Page 26 of Hunter or Hunted

“What’s the weird part?” I leaned against the counter behind me. “That I killed a guy, that you killed a guy, or that you want to do it again?”

Silence set in. The corners of her eyes twitched. Something curved across her lips, but I couldn’t call it a smile. “None of those.”

Was now the right time for this conversation? Would there ever be?

“Alright.” I gripped the lip of the counter behind me on either side. “Walk me through it then.”

“You acted like I was stupid.”

I frowned. Almost said that wasn’t true. But that was how she perceived it, regardless of how I’d intended it. “I don’t think you’re stupid.”

“You think killing Evan is.”

My mouth opened, then clapped shut.

Because yes, I did. Premeditating anyone’s murder was a stupid thing to do.

“I think it’s dangerous,” I said.

“Obviously, it’s dangerous.” Honey scampered off and jumped onto the couch. Gwen leaned back in her seat. “That wasn’t the word you used yesterday, though.”

“I have a habit of coming off condescending. Rhiannon has been telling me so my whole life. I’m sorry for that.”

“I can deal with a little condescension,” she said. “Hypocrisy is another story.”

She didn’t understand. Not because she was stupid, or because I thought she was stupid, but because I didn’t know how to explain it.

“I wasn’t trying to be a hypocrite either,” I said. “I don’t have a problem with where you stand on this morally. If I had the power, if I could snap my fingers and make assholes like that disappear, I would.”

“So it’s the logistics you have an issue with?” She propped her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand. “Because, like I said, I did it before. If I plan, if I prepare, I can handle the logistics.”

I crossed my arms against my chest. “I never said you couldn’t.”

“You made it sound like I couldn’t. I can, and I did.” She narrowed her eyes. “And don’t give me any shit, alright? I know I dumped him into your creek and everything, but even if you hadn’t helped me, even if you hadn’t dragged him out, he could’ve washed miles and miles down the river. Someone would’ve identified him, maybe, eventually—And yeah, I know. I forgot to take out his ID. But that’s what I’m saying. Someone would’ve found him eventually, maybe, and it never would’ve come back to me.”

My snort was louder than hers had been. And of course, the second it came out, I realized how condescending it sounded. But if she wanted to get into it, fine.

“Bullshit. You’re Simone’s best friend. Simone would’ve been the number one suspect, because his mom is currently shouting from the rooftops that she’s the suspect. And someone would’ve gone down for it. Probably you, because even if—and it’s a big if—she was willing to take the fall for what you did, you would’ve stepped up. You wouldn’t have let her go to jail for it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She squinted me over. “‘Even if.’ Are you saying you think Simone would turn me in?”

10

SEBASTIAN

Adeep breath lifted my chest. Blowing it out, I spun around. I opened one cabinet, then another. “Where do you keep your flour?”

“Spice cabinet, over the stove,” Gwen said. “But don’t change the subject, Sebastian. That was a big accusation.”

When I tossed open the cabinet door, the big plastic container labeled FLOUR stared back at me. I grabbed it, then a bowl from the cabinet I’d gotten the plate from, and laid it out on the counter. “I didn’t accuse anyone of anything.”

“You implied an accusation.”

I poured some flour into the bowl, eyeing the spices perched on the back of the stove. Garlic, salt, pepper, cayenne, paprika. Those would do. Dumping them into the flour mixture, I shook my head. “It’s a possibility.”

“No, it’s not.” Fury burned Gwen’s voice. “Simone would never turn me in. She wouldn’t.”

She hadn’t so far, and that was a good sign. Didn’t convince me that, under the right—or wrong—circumstances, she wouldn’t. But, to avoid the argument, I said, “Alright. If you say so.”