Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
W hen I raised my head, the band was still playing. Damp hair was plastered to the side of my face. I ripped the elastic out of my hair, then reached for my purse.
My hand landed on silky velvet. I yelped. Mr. Clove-smoke was sitting at the edge of the booth, but he was wearing a leather jacket. What had I touched?
“Jeezus. You scared the shit out of me.”
He slid his chalk-white hand into a leather glove while I stared at him. His one-sided smile was the kind that would lead me into an alley.
“Open it,” he said, nodding at my purse, his face all hard lines and unyielding smoothness. He leaned over and awkwardly nudged my bag across the slick surface of the table with the now-gloved hand. I stared at it, then looked back at him.
Ordering my shreds of thought, I reached for the purse. Sizzling sparks arced to my hand. “Jeezus. What in the nine hells was that?” I asked, examining my unblemished skin for burns.
“Interesting term.”
“Old obsession with Dante. Did you see that?” The purse’s black leather looked normal and so did the silver buckle with its well-earned dent from decking a handsy asshole a couple of years ago.
Reaching out with tentative fingers, like it was some alien creature, I touched the purse again. Silver sparks crackled, and I yanked my hand back. “What the actual fuck? You saw it that time, right?” His damn sunglasses blocked his reaction.
Screw it.
Heart pounding, I grabbed the purse and clicked the clasp open with visions of it exploding or bursting into flame. But there wasn’t one spark.
Clove-smoke grinned. “Good. Now, hand me the package.” His accented words clipped.
“What package?” I replied coyly. The tape around the ring stuck to a tissue, and when I yanked it out, the package bounced, then rolled across the table. Inside, a red glow pulsed like a heartbeat. He reached for it.
I clamped his gloved hand down on the table a millimeter short of him touching the taped packet. “Not so fast. How’d you know I had that?”
“It was missing.” His accent turned S’s into Z’s and W’s into V’s, and his angled jaw clenched tightly as if he were grinding his teeth. The effect was more attractive than I could currently process and made him even more spectacularly annoying.
“You mean you taped it there yourself?”
“Something like that,” he replied with his crooked smile.
I squirmed, sorting through hazy thoughts, distracted by my unsettled stomach.
“First things first.” I snatched the ring back.
“Either you’re stalking me, or we are having one of those everything-is-a-coincidence nights.
So far I’ve thrown up on you and walked in on you having some kind of questionable hookup.
Now, I really need to know who the hell you are, what this thing is, why you want it—and why you’ve been fondling my purse?
” I shoved the taped package back into my purse and clicked it closed.
His lush lips opened to answer, and I held up a hand. “Wait. The glasses have to come off first. Wearing mirrored sunglasses at night is damned strange, besides the fact that the reflection is making me nauseous, so it’s for your own good.”
He didn’t move. I lowered my voice. “Either take them off, or I’ll do it for you.”
He flashed a tight smile turning his jaw to steel. “I’d like to see you try,” he said, leaning back.
Now I’d have to make good or look like an ass. I lunged at him, and he grabbed my wrist. His grip was iron, completely immobilizing it. With my left hand, I took a swipe at his glasses. In one smooth grab, he pinned that wrist too.
I twisted, but the cold hardness of him was… Well, damn.
“Okay, the sunglasses can stay,” I yielded with a groan. “Now, let the hell go of me.” I shook—well, attempted to shake my wrist.
He was taking his sweet time letting go. I kicked under the table to help him make up his mind. A muscle feathered in his cheek, but he didn’t flinch. After a few more seconds, his fingers loosened, and I ripped my hand out of his grip, rubbing my wrist.
I’m a big girl at five-eleven and change, and I work out. Pinning me could be done. Tyre could do it with one of his bowling pin arms, but this guy didn’t have the bulk. Maybe the virus, or whatever it was, was making me weak. Still, damn. Dangerous as hell.
“So, this ring.” I opened my purse, ready to focus on something other than my imminent death or him effortlessly incapacitating me.
“Who does it belong to—and why does it glow?” I asked, plucking the taped package out and examining it.
I glanced over at the bar. Jules was doing the register count.
It wouldn’t be long before I’d be bank bound.
I set the taped packet down and rummaged in my purse for my phone.
It was a quarter to three. Damn, I’d probably missed the pizza.
“It is mine, and you appear to have awakened it. Which is curious,” he replied, reaching for the packet.
I grabbed it before he could touch it. My reflection in his glasses was hollow-eyed with watery-grave hair.
I twirled strands, hoping for a curl to take, and ran the back of my hand against my rough lips.
Water would be good soon if I could keep it down.
Fiddling with the bubble wrap, I asked, “If it’s yours, what was it doing under the sink?”
He paused, sitting back. “It was stolen from me. You don’t look… well. Are you feeling well?”
“Yeah, I feel like crap, thanks for asking. Did you know it was under the sink?” This was turning out to be an interview. I needed a pen and paper. I turned the taped packet over and pulled the ring out. It was as ugly as I’d remembered. The whole ring didn’t glow, only the cracked red stone.
“No. You should give it to me and then rest.” He peeled off a glove and rubbed his chin as if in contemplation. The long pale fingers stroked the five o’clock shadow with a delicacy that was distracting .
“How did you know it was in my purse?”
His fingers rubbed in mesmerizing circles. “The ceramic and the water hush its call. With you, it calls out to me again, which is intriguing. But that is the glow. Are your questions done now? You’re wasting my time and putting yourself in danger. You’re obviously ill and need my help.”
“The ring talks to you?” I cocked my head, not believing what I was saying. Was he crazy or was I, for asking? I turned the ring over. The thing was gargantuan, and the band was etched with symbols.
“Talks, no. But it knows its owner.”
The room tilted. I blinked, gripping the table, trying to hold it together and keep the details straight.
“You mean you. You’re the owner, right?” I slid toward the edge of the booth. This guy was obviously cray cray. Maybe there’d be pizza left.
“Give me the ring. Please?” The way his bottom lip softened on that last bit was concerning. All I could think of was rose petals.
Holding up my hand, I shoved the ring onto my middle finger. By some miracle, it slid snuggly over my knuckle and fit perfectly. When I stood up, the stone flashed red, but the glow faded like the last firefly in a forest.
“You should not have done that.” He exhaled the words while rubbing his forehead like I was giving him a headache.
I tugged at the ring to pull it off, but now the metal was icy cold. My breath caught, and my throat went dry. “Tight fit.” I laughed as the room swam. I got the damned thing off and shoved the ring back into my purse, but now my hand on the table was the only thing holding me up.
“You’ve made a grave error in putting that on.
I think it is best if your questions end now…
” Clove-smoke’s voice trailed off, the echo now reverberating in my head.
His ungloved fi ngers caged my wrist like a cat on a mouse.
I froze like the prey I was, as his snake-like pink tongue uncoiled and slid down my forearm.