Shadow Hunter (The Execution Underground) by Kait Ballenger Read Free Book Online Page A

him.
    Removing the stake from her heart, he pulled his cleaning rag from his pocket, wiped off the lacquered wood and placed the stake inside his jacket again, then closed the drawer, sealing the corpse inside, and walked to Tiffany’s side.
    Tiffany lifted her head from the trash bin. Shoving her hair away from her face, she inclined her head toward the drawer. “Is it closed now?”
    Damon nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”
    She shot out of the morgue and toward the car as if someone had lit a fire under her ass. Judging by her pale white face, she was more than a little spooked. She didn’t speak again until she slid into the passenger seat.
    “I thought you had a strong stomach,” he said as he slid behind the wheel.
    She shook her head. “I thought so, too.”
    Damon wasn’t surprised. Regular people thought being immune to motion sickness constituted a strong stomach. Dealing with the dead was different. She would need to toughen up for med school, if that was still her goal. She’d been prepping for her studies when they’d last communicated, several months ago. He opened his mouth to comment, but caught himself.
    Do not go there, Damon.
    He shifted the car into Drive and paused to plan out his next move. Getting the samples into the headquarters database via his personal analysis equipment before the evidence could be comprised needed to be his first priority.
    Within a few seconds they were back on the street, and he sped away from the hospital.
    She slumped against the headrest and closed her eyes. “Where are we going now?”
    He held back a string of profanities. Sending off the samples meant taking her to his place. What the hell would Mark say if he knew he was taking Tiffany home with him? His hands tightened on the steering wheel. The image of her lying across the black Egyptian cotton sheets of his bed sent his sexual imagination into overdrive.
    No. Nothing would result from her being in his home, near his bed. He owed Mark that respect. “To my apartment.”
    She let out a long sigh. “What for?”
    Damon shifted into gear. “To analyze the samples.”
    When they reached the Temple Building on Franklin Street, Tiffany’s eyes widened.
    “Holy guacamole! You live in the Temple Lofts?” Her eyes scanned the tall brick building. “Very nice.”
    He didn’t respond.
    She gave a slight laugh. “That’s definitely not where I expected you to live. I mean, obviously, driving this Beamer, I’d be stupid to think you didn’t have some dough, but dang. My little hellhole of a college apartment is nothing compared to this.”
    Damon slid out of the car and slammed the door. Tiffany followed suit.
    He led the way to the entrance as she trailed behind him. Several minutes later they were on the third floor. He unlocked his door and flipped on the lights.
    Tiffany followed him into the two-story loft apartment. Her face lit up. She glanced at the twenty-five-foot-high ceiling, clearly admiring the open staircase and the high quality furniture. Mostly black, white and tan. He’d gone for muted but classy, not to mention that he prided himself on keeping his apartment virtually spotless.
    “Wow. Very impressive.” She walked to the skyline window and studied the lights of the city.
    Damon closed the door behind him and locked the deadbolt. “What were you expecting?”
    She spun to face him. “Huh?”
    “You said this wasn’t what you expected from me. What did you expect?” He stripped his jacket off and laid it on the kitchen island.
    She shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess something a little bit...rougher around the edges.”
    He removed the Desert Eagle from the back of his pants and placed it on the counter.
    * * *
    T HE LARGE SILVER gun thunked as it hit the countertop. Rough around the edges? Try jagged on every corner.
    He watched as Tiffany ran her hand over the banister of the wooden staircase.
    “If you’re a member of the Execution Underground, what are you doing in