What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(35)

Disgusting.

Or maybe it was the lack of decent lighting. The one narrow window was boarded over, leaving the space bathed in shadows.

He gave a shake of his head, tucking the pictures in the pocket of his heavy parka. He should have posed the women upstairs before he’d had his companion carry them down the rotting staircase, but they would have to do.

He didn’t have time to make changes. His schedule was already tight.

A shame since he’d had a text from his informant that Carrie was on her way to Baltimore. It would be delicious to stay and toy with her, but he had to get home for the holidays. He couldn’t risk having people asking where he was, or why he wasn’t around for Christmas.

He’d drop the pictures into the mail. Maybe to her house. She’d eventually find them, right? Or maybe her PR person again.

But first he had business to finish.

Stepping back, he watched as the younger man paced around the women, his square face even more jaundiced in the fluorescent light.

Butcher was still eager, even after he’d spent the morning abusing his female. Clearly, his bloodlust was escalating.

A good thing his expiration date had just arrived.

“They look so peaceful,” the younger man said, his movements jerky.

Hunter took a step back, a tiny smile playing around his lips. There was no reason he couldn’t have a little fun before he rid the world of one more monster.

“Do you think so?” he asked.

“Yes.” The younger man’s hands twitched, blood still staining his fingers. A messy, childish monster. “Death must be a relief,” he continued.

Hunter released a low chuckle. “I doubt they thought it was a relief. They screamed and pleaded as if they wanted to live. Even after we’d all had our turn with them.”

Butcher turned to face him, his too-wide brow furrowed. This wasn’t part of the game. The younger man liked to be comforted after the violence.

“Their lives are miserable, right?” he demanded. “That’s what you said. They flaunt their bodies and tempt men to do bad things. It’s not like we would want to hurt them if they didn’t beg for it.”

Hunter pursed his lips, refusing to soothe the man’s swelling distress.

“Completely their own fault, hmmm?”

“It is.” He stomped his foot. Like a petulant child. “You said—”

“A tale begun in other days, when summer suns were glowing,” he softly quoted.

“What does that mean?”

“Do you believe everything you’re told?” Hunter demanded, his expression mocking.

“I’m not stupid.”

“Actually, you are,” he assured his companion. “Unbelievably stupid.”

The younger man flinched, his eyes filling with tears. Hunter had been able to manipulate his companion with the approval he so desperately craved. Withdrawing that support was like a knife in the heart.

“Why are you being so mean?” he asked.

Hunter strolled forward, his hand reaching into the pocket of his coat. He’d already ensured his favorite pistol was tucked in there. Loaded and with the safety off.

“I think we all must occasionally be honest with ourselves,” he drawled. “You, my friend, are a butcher in name and deed.” He nodded his head toward the dead women who lined the floor. “Just look at your handiwork.”

Butcher hunched his shoulders. “It wasn’t me. We all did it.”

Hunter reached out with his toe to lightly touch the nearest body. The female had been his. Not very satisfying, but his side trip to the hotel in Kansas had meant that he hadn’t had the same opportunity as the others to choose a proper victim.

Sacrifices, sacrifices.

“Yes, so much easier as a group, isn’t it?” he asked in soft tones.

Belatedly sensing the danger that prickled in the stale, nasty air, the younger man took a sharp step backward. His gaze darted around the gloom.

“Where is everyone else?” he demanded.

“It’s the holidays, my dear boy.” Hunter closed the space between them. It wasn’t really necessary. He was an excellent shot. But it was so much more satisfying to witness death up close and personal. “It would look suspicious if we weren’t home.”

“What about Assassin?” The man licked his dry lips. “You said he was coming to join us.”

Hunter smiled. “I’m afraid he was detained.”

The younger man’s frown deepened. Maybe he didn’t know what detained meant. Or maybe he realized that he wasn’t getting out of the cellar alive.

“Where is he?”

“He decided he wanted to stay with our previous victims.”

“What does that mean?”

Hunter considered before he confessed the truth. Why not? It wasn’t like the man was going to have the opportunity to tell anyone.

“I shot him in the head and left his body in the farmhouse. Eventually he’ll be found.”

Butcher gasped in shock. “Why?”

“Because he was a weak link.” Hunter pulled the gun out of his pocket and aimed it at his companion. “Just as you are.”

“No.” The man held up his hands, as if he could stop a bullet with his fingers. Idiot. “We’re a team. You said so.”