“Play a game with me, Evelyn.”
Behind the mask, I imagined his eyes sparking with dark interest.
He never answered my questions, I noticed. He always changed the subject, or threw another question back at me.
A distraction tactic.
“What kind of game?”
“The deadly kind.”
A click echoed across the clearing. He’d c****d the gun. His finger hovered on the trigger.
And he aimed at the tied man’s head.
I swallowed hard. Every muscle in my body tightened. Still, I did my best not to show my fear. If he smelled it—like a shark smelling blood—he’d bite.
“Killing with a gun isn’t your style,” I said with a shrug, voice flat.
His shoulders shook with laughter.
“What’s that saying?” he asked, slowly moving the aim until the gun pointed directly at his own head. “There’s a first time for eve
