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They scoured the underground rooms and corridors, searching for Reiss. Noah checked the waiting and recovery rooms, eventually finding the man’s belt. He wouldn’t leave it behind if he had simply quit the tournament. He spotted a puddle of wine on the floor nearby, but no cup. Noah sniffed the wine and tasted a small drop, feeling his tongue burn. He looked around and noticed a broom closet with broken doorknob. Noah pried it open with his sword, and out fell Reiss’s corpse.“Of course,” Noah muttered.

He’d already showered so his short messy hair had been combed back and was still damp. He was wearing his slacks and belt, but no button up shirt on yet. He liked to wait until his hair was a bit drier before he put it on. As he pulled cups and the coffee tin from the cupboards above, she couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles shifted on his back, the sparse long hairs that sprouted from his back and shoulders. He only got to the gyms on the weekends, but he walked around job sights a lot for his work, so he had a nice balance between muscle and leanness. Before last night she wouldn’t have given it a second thought, but now she sat there with her mouth open, staring like a dead fish.

“That’s funny, considering you look kind of like his wanted posters,” the bounty hunter replied, showing a flier with a sketch of Noah in his hat and coat.Noah, who had taken a seat at the bar and lit a gonlief cigarette, huffed in faux annoyance. “Insult to motherfucking injury. He stole my wife and my look, and now I got little shitheads mistaking me for the guy I plan on skinning alive.”“And who are you?”