Heathens & Hold Ups (Book 2 of the Heathens Duet)

Chapter 23- Jaxson

Whistling would be a step too far, I tell myself. Though the urge to do just that is hard to ignore. I want to play with her, not act like some cartoonish villain twirling my pencil moustache and cackling into the wind about my master plan to take over the world. Besides, world domination is just so pedestrian of a goal.

My steps are calm and measured as I follow the frantic trail Callie makes through the trees. Toying with the mask at my side, I contemplate slipping it on. Not my usual one, a two-piece Oni mask that splits apart at the nose. So many ways to play in this new mask, I smile to myself. The idea has been bouncing around in my head for the past year. I had so much fun chasing her down in the tunnels. Although it would be so much better in the dark, with our most recent activities I don't have the ability to wait for a better opportunity. D warned us that Rivers was headed into town. I'm holding out hope he brings that slime Vernon.

Still, the sun is starting to set and if we're still out here during twilight, well a beast can only hold out on its baser nature for so long.

"Oh Bambi," I call out conversationally. "Did I ever tell you what I plan to do when I catch you?" I place the top half of the mask on, my eyes scoping the trees as I adjust the horns. I chuckle as I hear a twig snap in the distance, more than I expected for her to cover since we started our little game. She really has been training. A few steps more and I pause, giving her a moment to try and tame her racing heart.

"My obsession with you has only grown," I confess. "I guess absence really does make the heart grow fonder. Consuming me, that's what you've done. Unleashed me to the point I no longer belong to myself. I exist only for you and my brothers. You're perfect for us, you realize. A perfect fit to the puzzle we hadn't even realized was missing a piece," I silently stalk forward to her harsh pants.

"Last chance to run from me Bambi." Taunting her, daring her to give me the hunt my blood sings for. "I can smell your scent in the breeze. Cherries and sunshine, Dario calls it," I shake my head at the memory. Hard to believe it's been a year since that fateful day. "He's wrong you know. It's bright and sweet, yes, but earthy and moody. The two sides of you always fighting for dominance." Coconut milk and patchouli. I couldn't put my finger on it before or perhaps it's changed just like the woman herself. I like this version so much more. She stronger, less afraid to feel, to want.

Twirling one of her blades through my fingers, I count down from three before I fling it into the tree I suspect her of hiding behind. Movement out of the corner of my eye has her half circled behind me from where I thought she was as she takes off running again. A haphazard zig zag pattern takes her quickly out of my sight as I walk over to the tree where her blade is stuck fast. Prying it out and shaking off the debris, I replace it in my belt.

With the sun setting behind us, I place the other half of the mask on, obscuring the bottom half of my face as well. The dry brushed steel look, paired with the black and gold horns cuts an ominous figure, if I do say so myself. The crafter was surprised I picked it instead of the more popular red, white, or black styles, but for me the choice was simple. I'm no collector, so the traditional red or white held no value to me. Black felt like child's play to me, so basic. The easy, intimidating choice. No. I don't want to fade into the night, hiding in the shadows and dragging her into them with me. I want to be the monster she sees coming, the beast she can't outrun. Earning her surrender after she's fought for her escape. It just tastes that much sweeter when she comes apart for me.

Picking up my pace until it's a light jog, I throw my head back in sheer excitement. This is what I dreamed of during the past year. Chasing her through the tunnels, that's where I fell for my little doe. Even with the overwhelming fear shining in her eyes, she fought to outsmart me, evading, and erasing her movements through the labyrinth of false passages. I'm not too worried about losing her completely despite the larger, open playing field.

Careful planning always wins out. That and the tracker tucked into both the bracelet she's yet to take off since we gave it to her and the one tucked into each pair of her shoes. It'd be cheating to make use of, so I've ignored it. it's only there in case she really does win and I have to rescue her from herself. Dario kept telling me it was overkill, but he still helped get them all online. The others might ignore it, but he's just as obsessed as me.

She's faster now, more conditioned, despite already having clocked a few miles. Daylight is slowly running out though. There's still enough to see, but another hour and she'll be struggling. I doubt she thought to grab her flashlight before she cut out from her bag and the trail. Besides, my girl is much too clever to broadcast her location. The adrenaline coursing through her will be making it hard for her brain to do more than work on autopilot, telling her to get as far away from me as fast as she can. It'll be hard to slow down, to make rational decisions.

I'm counting on it. The leaves she trampled underfoot in her haste stand out like neon when you know what to look for. I've never been so grateful for the mask that hides the tickled grin stretching out along my face. Running at first was smart, the more distance the better. As I follow her trail, her steps become smaller, more closely clustered like she slowed down, retracing her steps. Knee down I trace my hand over one of the imprints, feeling out the ridges and depth of her impression in the mud. Clever pet indeed.

Rising to my feet, I slowly clap my hands. Positive reinforcement is always the proper way to reward such behavior. She walks carefully, always has. I noticed it first in the bunker and once we knew her background, it all made so much sense. Deeply ingrained in her, she still does to this day, putting her weight on the balls of her feet rather than the heel. These clustered prints tell a story. They appear random at first glance until you look closer. They flip, the heel of her shoe pressing deeper in the ground and the ball a mere kiss against the ground. She walked backwards, well her shoes did. Numerous ways to do it, changing her gait, strapping her feet to the tops backwards. Though if I know her, I would bet on the second.

Changing your gait is almost impossible for most people past a few steps or without plenty of time and repetition. It's natural. So much so is it ingrained in us that facial recognition is no longer enough to track someone who doesn't want to be found. They now track the way you walk. That is why I get sent out the most often. A chameleon, at least that's how I was trained. To become anyone, blend anywhere, among a whole host of other skills. I doubt the others know the whole scope of skills I possess, though I know Riggs suspects more than he lets on. He allows me my secrets and I allow him his, at least from the others. There are no secrets to me.

Rustling in the distance, closer than I would have expected has me launching myself towards the sound. Only a frightened bird, squawking its displeasure. The scent on the breeze though, that's my prey. She's baiting me, looping around me in large patterns, toying with me as much as I am her. I did make myself ultra-visible with my mask. It's wise to keep me in sight. Can't run from something if you don't know where you can run to.

As much as she attempts to control this game, she can't. I've been scoping out her running habits for far too long. Tracking her favorite routes, parks, times, and more. Meticulously paying attention to every different factor that lead us to this moment.

With a decisive throw, I fling one of Callie's blades into the bark of a tree about twenty feet away, give or take a few inches. Leaves crinkling can't hide her shocked gasp.

Got you Bambi.