Hyper Lynx (The Lynx Series Book 6) Fiona Quinn (the dot read aloud .txt) 📖

focus, then I might lose my prey. I had found this twilight place somewhere between meditation and alertness. I tasked my brain with noticing my surroundings, searching out that delicious fly so that I could flick my tongue and savor the rewards of lying so still. It was a place where I didn’t feel my legs falling asleep from draping over the side of the branches or feel the cold wind bite at the tip of my nose.

It was a place of nothingness and expectation.

Eventually, the doors on the bar had banged open, and people trickled out and toward their cars. Hanasal wasn’t one of them. I checked my watch—something I tried not to do during stakeouts, lest I be discouraged that only one or two minutes had passed. I was rewarded with the surprise of last-call o’clock.

What do you do in a bar all alone for so long?

Ah, not alone.

I slowly pulled my phone from my pocket and videotaped Hanasal stumbling across the lot with his arm draped across a woman’s shoulder. He pulled out his car keys, pointed in the vague direction of the sedan, and pressed the fob. His car barked twice as his lights blinked, and he grinned a wide toothy grin. Startlingly white teeth. A Cheshire cat. The woman who was with him steered them to the car, and they climbed into the back seat.

What the heck? I was too high up to get a good angle on the backseat interior. I rounded to the back of the tree and shimmied my way back down. Lying on my stomach, I crawled on my elbows toward his car.  It was the only vehicle left on this side of the lot. I slid my hand up alongside the door frame between the front and back windows and videotaped what was going on inside.  When the woman spoke, I slowly lowered my arm and snaked my way back into the tree line.

The woman exited, made a phone call, walked to the street, and waited for the car that came five minutes later.

Hanasal stayed in the back of the car.

I opened the video. It was very dark in the interior, with the only illumination coming from the parking lot lights. From what I could make out, Hanasal pulled a wad of money from his breast pocket, peeled a couple of notes off, and handed them to the woman. The woman tucked the cash into her purse and then slid her dress bodice to the sides to expose her bare breasts. Hanasal licked at them greedily. He squeezed them and tweaked at her nipples. The woman grimaced and moved her hands over his to stop him from hurting her. She smiled and cocked her head to the side, then petted a hand down his chest and said something to him.

Hanasal slid his hips forward on the seat and spread his legs wide. Thank goodness the angle was bad, and I couldn’t make out the image. From her position, though, I’d imagine that she had unzipped his pants and dragged out his dick.

Huh. I wonder what the king and his daughter would think of you getting your wanger sucked off by some woman—and in public, no less?

Would this video be enough to get him called back? Maybe it was traditional for men in that kingdom to have certain forms of relations outside of the marriage. I certainly couldn’t hand this evidence over to the police. His being a john couldn’t be prosecuted. His willy was free to get sucked in public, no problem. Shithead.

I had closed the video and waited. Nothing. I prowled toward his car.

Hanasal was stretched out in the back seat. With his mouth hanging open, his tongue draped loosely over his lip. He was passed out, his dick lying limply under his hand.

The alarm hadn’t chirruped when the woman exited; the alarm wasn’t engaged. I edged the door open. It was as cold inside the car as it was outside, but I still slid onto the seat and pulled the door almost all the way shut so the wind wouldn’t rouse him from his alcohol-induced, post-orgasmic coma.

His keys lay on the floorboard. I pocketed them. With the tips of my fingers, I stroked along the breast pockets of his jacket where I had seen him put his money. There was nothing there. I continued down to check the outside of his pants’ pockets, hunting for the prescription bottle. I didn't find it, either.

I had searched the car seats and along the floorboards, finally pulling the container out from under the driver’s seat. The lid was separate from the bottle. Whatever had filled the bottle was now gone.

After snapping a picture of the label, I exited the car and headed home.

I remembered thinking that I was supposed to train with Spyder in just a few hours. He’d have questions. I had no new answers.

“Hey, are you okay?” Destiny asked, coming out of the shower, her hair wrapped in a towel, frayed at the edges with faded pink stripes.

I fought to pull myself back to the here and now. “Okay?”

“You’re very still, staring out that window.”

“Yeah.” I sent her a smile. “I was just—whew!—kind of overwhelmed by a memory. There was this man. He did…really bad things. Sometimes he pops up unbidden, and I relive that time.”

She gripped at the top of her dress, pulling the rounded neckline tighter around her throat. “Bad?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You and me…We’re going to be okay. Eventually. We’re both going to right our ships and sail off into a gilded sunset.”

Destiny’s focus wavered off. “I hope so,” she whispered.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The next day was very much a repeat, only it was my turn at the red-eye, and Destiny took the early bird dinner shift.

Yesterday, Prescott and Finley assured me that Destiny was