Chapter 11 #2
“You’re connecting things that aren’t…” He realized he’d lost control of the conversation, and he had that typical, weaselly tone to his voice, trying to wriggle out of it.
“And you put that ugly Devil of Jersey sticker on it on purpose.” That did it: he went quiet, not getting defensive, not angry, but stunned. I laughed again, but there was no humor in it this time. “Yeah. Didn’t think I’d put that together, huh? Real subtle.”
“You...how did you…” he sputtered. The airport noise was louder than the hushed murmur of his voice. I could hear what they were saying now, and, with shock, realized it was in French. He was already here.
Soldiering on, I let fury rather than fear guide me. “If only you’d managed to keep it in your pants until after this trip,” I said, my voice dropping, deadly calm. “You could’ve just taken it yourself.”
“Susie, listen…” he tried.
“No. You listen.” My heart was pounding now, adrenaline starting to spike.
“Whatever you’re mixed up in? Stay the hell away from me.
” I hung up before he could respond, and holy hell did that feel good.
Telling him off, I should have done that the day I caught him in bed with that bimbo.
Instead, I’d walked out and waited, shame-faced, for them to leave my home before returning.
My hands were shaking—adrenaline, fury—crashing hard after that wild ride. I tossed the phone onto the bed and dragged a hand through my hair, pacing faster now. The room felt like it was closing in, the walls pressing close, the air too thick.
Logan. The bag. The room. The sticker.
Raoul.
Everything was colliding in my head, thoughts moving too fast, my head threatening to explode. “I need air.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. I knew Raoul had told me to stay. He’d been extremely specific and extremely adamant about it. I grabbed my jacket anyway.
“I’ll just take a quick walk,” I muttered. “Five minutes. Ten. I’m not a prisoner.” I’d just stick to the busy streets; nothing could happen to me then. I wouldn’t even go far. I just needed air, and the hotel room felt like a cage after that call.
The hallway felt cooler and quieter, but the elevator ride was too slow and stuffy. By the time I stepped out onto the street, the night air hit my skin like a shock, crisp and alive. I breathed in deep and let the night air settle my ragged nerves. Better, but only for about thirty seconds.
Then the feeling crept in, a prickling at the back of my neck.
I turned down one street, hoping it would go away.
I crossed at a light and found a stream of people still walking the city like they owned the night.
Laughter spilled from a nearby bar. A couple brushed past me, wrapped up in each other.
Somewhere, music drifted through an open doorway.
The feeling didn’t go away; it actually got worse.
I slowed, my steps faltering. Someone was behind me.
I didn’t hear footsteps, nothing that obvious, but I felt it.
I turned casually, pretending to glance into a shop window.
Three figures. Not right on top of me, but close enough.
I saw their reflections, but couldn’t make out any features, just that they were men, and much bigger than me.
My pulse spiked. Okay. Okay. Stay calm. I picked up my pace, turning toward a busier street and weaving through a small crowd.
I told myself nothing could happen to me here, but I didn’t buy my own propaganda.
This was a mistake. I should have listened to Raoul and not let Logan get under my skin this way.
If I could just get back to the hotel, I’d be safe.
I turned another corner, then faltered. Oh, fuck, a dead end.
“Of course,” I muttered, because nothing was ever easy, and I’d proven myself terribly capable of getting lost in this city.
Granted, the catacombs incident didn’t entirely count; I was pretty sure something else had been at play there, too.
I had been guided by magical dancing lights then.
I didn’t think I’d be so lucky as to escape this jam, but shock still shivered through me when I spotted them at the mouth of the narrow alley.
All three of them. They were young and in shape.
Attractive an almost too-perfect way, their jaws sharp, their muscles defined beneath their shirts.
The one in the middle stepped forward, his gaze locking onto mine with unsettling intensity. “Hand it over,” he said.
“I’m sorry, what?” I didn’t know what it was they wanted me to hand over, but I knew this wasn’t a random burglary.
They weren’t after my purse, which I wasn’t carrying.
All I had on me was the cash in my compact mirror and a slim wallet tucked into the edge of my belt: a pickpocket precaution.
They weren’t after either of those items.
“Don’t play games,” another snapped. “We know you have it.” They fanned out in front of me, all dark-haired, muscled in that hit-the-gym-every-day kind of way. Sharp cheekbones and eyes that glimmered just a tad too much for this low light.
“I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.” Beyond them, safety seemed so close, but nobody passing by the mouth of the alley so much as looked in.
The first guy’s jaw tightened. “The bag.” Oh, you have got to be kidding me. They’d already slashed it to bits; they knew what they were after wasn’t in it, damn it!
“I don’t have your stupid bag!” I shot back.
His patience snapped, and unlike Logan, who was an idiot but harmless, this guy attacked.
I barely had time to react before he grabbed me, shoving me back toward the wall.
Adrenaline took over; I didn’t think, I just moved.
My hand came up, and I slammed it straight into his face.
He yelped, jerking back more from surprise than pain. For a split second, we both froze. Then his expression twisted with fury. “Oh, you’re going to regret that, you bitch!” I already did, because punching a guy in the jaw felt like punching a freaking wall.
He lunged a second time, his buddies following his lead. I stumbled back, thumping into the wall behind me and nearly tripping. Not fast enough. I curled my arms over my head and braced myself for pain.
A blur of motion cut him off. I blinked in confusion as cold air whipped my face.
Rising slowly, I tried to make sense of the abrupt change.
A figure—wide back and shoulders—shadows clinging to the sleek fabric of an expensive suit.
He moved like the night itself had decided to take shape: silent, lethal, unstoppable.
One second the men were advancing; the next, they were being thrown back, as if something had ripped the air out from under them.
“Touch her again,” Raoul said, his voice low and deadly, “and I will end you.” His eyes glowed gold in the darkness, brighter than I’d ever seen them before. Raoul, my vampire. I didn’t question how he’d found me, how he’d gotten here just when I needed help. I was simply relieved.
He stood between me and my attackers, and I wasn’t sure if the thugs had just moved back or if Raoul had shoved them away. Uncertainty flickered across their faces. He stepped slightly in front of me, his presence a solid wall between me and them. “Leave,” he said.
They didn’t argue, didn’t even utter a word. They backed off, tension coiled tight, then turned and disappeared into the night. I watched them go, surprised, even a little confused. Three to one meant they still outnumbered Raoul, but they ran off like they were scared.
My heart was racing, my breath uneven, but the fear was rapidly fading. I knew I was safe; I’d always be safe with him. Strange to realize, but I trusted a vampire, and damn it, vampires were still real.
Raoul turned to me slowly, his body lean and sleek in the new clothing he wore. An actual suit—probably expensive—and fitting exquisitely to his lean but muscular frame. Then I saw his face, and oh... He was furious. Not at them, because they were gone, at me. “You left,” he said.
I swallowed roughly, feeling like my reason for going out was flimsy now.
“I needed air?” I offered. How did I put into words how my stupid ex had made me feel?
His jaw clenched, displeased with my answer.
I probably should’ve been more intimidated; instead, I moved closer, my voice still shaky but defiant.
“They were asking about the bag. Logan’s bag. ”
That got his attention. His expression shifted, the tightness in his jaw easing, but his eyes flaring. “Tell me everything,” he said.