Chapter 77

• As he stepped into the dimly lit room, he tilted his head to observe the body sprawled across the mattress, a lithe woman curled atop it. Richard Moore had always had an affinity for women who were as young as his own daughter and, fittingly, this one had blonde hair just like hers.
• His footsteps were silent against the floor, a reminder of how long it had been since he had embarked on a hunt like this, feeling the rush of exhilaration coursing through his veins. He could feel his fingers twitching toward the trigger, eager to act, but he managed to rein in his impulses—he was in control.
• The woman was the first to awaken, her large hazel eyes landing on him in startled recognition. With a finger pressed to his lips and a gun aimed squarely at her head, he impeded any notion she might have had to scream.