Dad will hate me.
Guilt ate at me with sharp silver teeth. My father would understand if I told him the truth about what’d happened—if I was brave enough to admit I’d left without telling anyone. He would forgive me.
But what would this man think of me? He’d rescued me, and instead of being relieved, I’d almost burst into tears because a necklace that was worth a few thousand had been taken.
A life was worth more than a bauble. I wasn’t a silly child anymore.
I’d never been a silly child.
I won’t start now.
Breaking into a jog, I caught up to him and touched his forearm. “I’m sorry. I made it seem like I wasn’t grateful. That I was blaming you for not getting it back.” I licked my lips. “I’m not. I’m just sad I let them take it, but you’re right. It’s only a necklace.”
He slammed to a stop, his eyes locked on where I touched him. He swallowed hard. “You don’t have to explain to me.”
“Yes, I do. I owe you. I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of princess.”
He shifted, his mouth pursing as he looked me up and down. “What birthday?”
I blinked. “What?”
“How old did you turn?”
“Oh, um—” I struggled to tell him. Not because I wanted to keep my private life private but because he was older than I was. He looked mid-twenties with hardness only born from fighting every day of his life. I was soft where he was sharp. I knew how to fight but in boardrooms and on conference calls, not on the streets.
He sighed. “I get it. You don’t have to tell me.” Pushing away, he continued walking; his jeans scuffed by his dirty sneakers.
“No, wait.” I trotted after him. “I want to tell you.”
He paused as I returned to his side, comfortable beside him even though I didn’t know him. “I turned nineteen.”
He laughed, low and short. “Wow, I knew you were young but not that young.”
“How young did you think?”
His eyes tightened. “Twenty, twenty-one.”
“That’s not a big difference.”
He pushed off again, wedging his hands into his pockets, revealing a habit. “Still a teen.”
I didn’t let that irritate me. “How old are you?”
A slight chuckle sounded as he pulled his hood back up, hiding his shaggy black-brown hair, adding yet more shadows to his handsome face. “Older than you.”
With the hood and the night sky, his face danced on my memory, already fading—as if my eyes hadn’t captured his features enough to imprint long-term recollection.
I crossed my arms. “Tell me. I told you.”
He glanced at me sideways. “Twenty-five.”
“Six years. That’s not much.”
“It’s enough to get some people thrown in jail.”
“Some people?”
He tossed his head with a tight roll of his shoulders. “Forget it.”
We walked in silence for a moment, my fingers trailing once again to my naked throat. I hated that I’d forgotten about my necklace. That I hadn’t taken stock and asked for it back. Did that mean I wasn’t worthy of such a gift—if I didn’t appreciate it enough to remember?
In a rash decision, I said, “You know, if I had remembered to ask for my necklace, it wouldn’t have been mine anymore.”
He scowled, waiting for me to continue.
“It would’ve been yours.”
Surprise flickered over his obscured face before finally settling into polite refusal. “No.”
“No?”
“Just no.”
Prickles raced down my spine. Half of me wanted to force him to accept the imaginary gift. A sapphire could’ve converted to showers and meals and a roof over his head rather than dangle around my silly little neck.
But he hunched his shoulders—not in a regretful way but more regal, more honorable than I’d ever seen. “I don’t need your fucking charity.”
His curse cut through our odd conversation.
I couldn’t undermine his good deed by forcing him to hypothetically accept something he would never have. But he had to know how much I appreciated his help. “I’ll give you more money when we get home, okay? I’ll make sure you’re compensated—”
“I’m not after your damn money,” he snapped. “If I was, I could’ve done what they did and robbed you where there were no witnesses.”
The busy city faded around me. “You wouldn’t.”
“You don’t know me.”
“You’re right. I don’t.” I ignored my sudden shiver. “So tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“What do you want? Where are you from? How can I return the favor?”
He bared his teeth. “I want nothing. I’m from nowhere. And you can’t return it.”
I didn’t let his fisted hands or taut body sway me. “Wanting nothing isn’t true. And you’re from somewhere...but I get if you want to keep it secret. Surely, there’s something you need.” I waved my arm at the congested pavement. “You’re not walking for your health.” I pointed at his bloody hands. “Talking about health, you should probably have those looked at.” I moved closer, grabbing his wrist without thinking.
He stiffened.
Electricity sprang from him to me and me to him and every which way around us until we stood in a web of sparks from just the simplest touch.
His jaw clenched; his eyes narrowed and dark. Placing his hand over mine on his wrist, he ever so slowly pulled at my fingers until my grip was no more. Dropping my hand from him, he whispered, “There is something.”
I shook my head, lost and confused and so scrambled I couldn’t follow. He noticed the question in my eyes, answering for me. “There is something I want from you.”
“What? What do you want?”
He glanced away as if he hadn’t meant to say that. For a second, he looked like he’d bolt into the crowds and vanish. But then he cleared his throat. “Do you trust me?”
“What?”
His chocolate eyes locked on mine again. “Do you trust me?”
“I just met you.”
“Doesn’t matter. Yes or no.”
What should I say? That yes, in some weird way, I did trust him. Or no, I wasn’t stupid enough to trust someone who beat up two guys and then kept me longer than necessary in an alley.
He glowered, his intensity once again causing goosebumps. “Yes or no. It’s not hard.”
Slowly, I nodded. “Yes, I trust you.”
“Good.” He wrapped an arm around my waist and yanked me off the footpath. Without a word, he herded me across the road. Reaching the other side, he let me go but didn’t move far away.
Shared body heat hummed between us, growing thicker with things I didn’t understand. Things all so new and foreign but desperately wanted. “Where are we going?”
“Central Park.”
“What?” I slammed to a halt. “You can’t be serious. No one goes in there at this time of night. For safety reasons and for security. It’s not open.”
He grinned; the streetlight above him painted him in a golden glow, looking part angel, part devil. “I know a way in.”
I backed up. “I’ve changed my mind. Let’s just go home.”
His face darkened then solidified into determination. “You don’t get to do that. You just agreed to trust me.” He stepped forward, his chest brushing mine. The cheap material of the bomber jacket rubbed the lace of my bra, making me achingly sensitive. My neck bent to look up at him, drinking in the way his hair ran wild around his face, and his beard masked him, revealing only what he wanted to reveal.
“I’ll take you home afterward.” His hand came up, brushing aside a wayward blonde strand, his fingers kissing the side of my face.
I jolted but couldn’t move away. The concrete had turned into super glue.
Before I could reply, he dropped his touch, grabbed my hand, and dragged me toward the wall of Central Park.
He lo
oked over his shoulder as we patrolled the rock barricade. Hauling himself up, he swung his legs over and dropped into nothing.
I dashed to the wall and looked down.
In the darkness, I barely made out his shape a few feet below.
His head tilted toward me, once again cloaked in the shadows he seemed to rule over, only his hands and face visible as he reached up. “Jump. I’ll catch you.”
You’ll catch me?
I wanted to yell, but the occasional late-night dog walker on the other side of the street kept me quiet. This was illegal. I didn’t want to get caught. Imagine the publicity if this got out that I’d snuck out on my birthday, almost got molested, gave my dinner to a homeless guy, then gallivanted around the city doing bad things with a total stranger.
Who the hell am I?
I should turn around and find my own way home. I should hop in a cab and pay the driver when he dropped me off with the petty cash that was stored in the cloakroom upon arrival at Belle Elle.
I had so many options.
So I had no excuse when I deliberately chose none of them.
I slung my jean-clad legs over the wall, inhaled deep, and let go.
Chapter Nine
HIS ARMS WERE warm steel.
He caught me in my semi-slide as I plummeted down the rock wall. He didn’t manage to catch my entire weight, and my legs jarred as they hit the ground, but he cradled my torso with infinitesimal gentleness.
We stayed like that for far longer than necessary, swaying in each other’s embrace, somehow deleting the stranger danger and becoming acquainted instead.
He cleared his throat, moving back.
I shivered as his arms unraveled, leaving me to my own gravity, removing himself from my orbit.
He waited until I had my balance before striding into the gloom. “Now that we’re in, keep an eye out for security guards.”
Fear multiplied. “Guards? As in guards with guns?”
“Probably. Doesn’t everyone in America own a gun?”
I hated that he was right. Even my father had one locked in a case at home. Not that he’d ever used it—that was why we had bodyguards.
The thought of how different our worlds were made me self-conscious. What would he say if I admitted that the building glowing the brightest on the horizon was mine? That I crunched numbers and paid bills on a daily basis valued at more than he’d probably seen in his entire life?
He didn’t notice my sudden heavy steps as he slinked through the few bushes and disappeared into the dark.
Following him, I did my best not to imagine monsters in the swaying foliage and remain level-headed. I missed Sage. I missed her whiskers and long, silver tail. I missed normalcy and a place where I was in charge and not the universe taking me on a jeopardy-filled odyssey.
But even as homesickness filled part of my heart, freedom filled the other. The longer I was in his company, the more I found the confidence to be the girl who stood up to crooks in nothing but her bra. To speak my mind and chase after a man who did strange things to my stomach.
And above all, not to embarrass myself.
Whoever my guide was, he had an air of aloof confidence that made it vital he saw me as strong not weak if I wanted him to notice me and not just pity me.
We didn’t speak as we navigated the bushes. A few lights here and there offered illumination, while the flashlight of a security guard patrolling in the distance made us hug the treeline.
“Where are we going?” I whispered.
“You’ll see.”
Our sneakers scuffed through brush and twigs, so loud to my ears but no doubt unnoticeable by whoever enforced the laws about breaking into this place.
Popping from the undergrowth, we dashed across a path and entered a grassy field with caged baseball courts under the half moon.
“Come on. Hurry.” He held out his hand, guiding me toward the super high chain link fence. “Climb.”
“What?” I peered into the star-lit sky. “Are you insane?”
He looked over his shoulder as a branch snapped. “Hurry.” Pushing me upward, he didn’t give me a choice. His hand landed on my ass, searing his fingerprints into my flesh. A comet somehow fell from the dark velvet above and lodged itself in my chest.
It took every ounce of concentration to climb when all I could think about was his fingers touching me where no other man had before.
He followed me, scaling so much faster with experience. Reaching the top, he slung his body over and just let go. His black-clad body fell with all the grace of a jungle cat.
I didn’t have the balls.
I crawled over the top—thankful there was no barbwire—and climbed down a few rungs before finally dropping to the stable ground below. My fingers smarted from gripping the harsh metal.
He showed no sign of being affected at touching me in an intimate place so I didn’t either—even though my ass cheek throbbed as if he’d spanked me.
“Won’t they see us in here?” I glanced around for security cameras. I spied one aimed at the home diamond. “Wait.” I hissed.
He turned around, his eyebrow arched in question.
“The camera.” I cocked my chin at the lens glinting in the starlight.
“It doesn’t work.”
The way he said it made it sound as if he knew exactly why it didn’t work. So he’s a vandal and a vigilante?
Fighting my nerves, I paced after him until we stood in the center of the field. All around us (outside the chain link) were manicured lawns and sweeping trees to give watchers a spot of shade on hot days.
Once in the middle of the playing field, he fell into a cross-legged position and tugged my hand to join him.
I struggled against his weight for a second but finally gave in and joined him. The moment I was sitting, he pushed my shoulder.
My abs clenched against his pressure, trying to stay upright.
But it was no use.
His eyes locked on mine, adding more authority until I gave up fighting and followed his command. Down and down, until my spine kissed the soft grass.
My heart chugged blood like it was starving.
Untangling his legs, he reclined, slowly slotting his body along mine, stealing my breath, making every cell spring into tiny knife-like blades of sensation.
His gaze landed on my lips, drawing awareness and concentration into overpowering levels. My head swam with the possibility of him kissing me. His gaze hooded, his own thoughts of kissing me coating his face.
I didn’t know how I felt about him kissing me. Would I let him? Would I scream?
I hated to admit that I would let him. That I’d probably kiss him back. That despite my wariness, I trusted him, and if I was going to do something as reckless as kiss a total stranger under the moon in the middle of Central Park, it would be this nameless man.
Is this what he meant when he said he wanted something from me?
Did he think I was easy?
A sure thing?
Even with such awful thoughts in my head, my body didn’t buy into the shame.
My chin arched. I licked my lips. The world stood still.
He swayed closer, propping himself up on an elbow to hover his face over mine.
Oh God, he’s truly going to kiss me.
My first real kiss.
Something I would remember for the rest of my life, regardless if I remained a spinster to Belle Elle or married a man who would always be second best to my career.
But then...he stopped.
Pulling back, he shook his head and lay back down. “What the fuck am I doing?” Cradling his head in the palm of his hand, he looked up at the moon. For the shortest glimpse, a tortured need glimmered in his gaze then disappeared.
I sucked in a much-needed breath, trying to decide what the hell just happened.
My mouth went dry. My chest full of feathered wings. Jitters took over my motor skills as I replayed the almost-kiss over and over.
A few minutes tick
ed past.
The grass rustled as he sat up, digging his hand into his hoodie pocket.
Pulling free a wrapped chocolate bar, he glanced at me with a faint glint of possession and indecision.
My stomach growled at the sight of food, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since a mouthful of spicy beef burrito. He smirked at my noisy tummy then courteously but reluctantly offered me the chocolate. “Here. You sound hungrier than I am.”
My hand came up, accepting his gift. Waiting to make sure I had hold of it, he dropped his arm. He sighed heavily, finding it hard to tear his gaze away from the chocolate and focus on the moon.
His own stomach gurgled quietly as he placed a splayed hand over his waist and pressed down.
Everything inside me hurt. The vulnerability of him in that moment. The generosity of giving up the only food he had, even though he was most likely starving. I worked with people on a daily basis who would rather throw out entire platters of food than donate it to those in need. The news on TV was full of greed and cruelty and rich assholes thinking only of themselves.
And then there was him.
A man I didn’t know. A savior I’d only just met. But someone who had a profound effect on me in the hour we’d been together.
He sighed again, swallowing hard as he finally tore his gaze away and looked at the stars.
When was the last time he ate? Where did he get a candy bar? When was the last time he’d eaten anything more substantial than just chocolate?
My hunger turned to indigestion as I did my best to guess his story. His body hunched as his stomach stopped growling. His sneaker-covered feet were thread bear and rubber-worn, speaking of so many miles traveled and no sanctuary found. The silver glint of the moon played on the black of his hoodie, making it seem as if he dressed in liquid mercury.
My hands shook as I opened the candy bar and slowly unwrapped it. His jaw clenched at the noise of the wrapper. The soft rustling of grass hinted he wasn’t as relaxed as he appeared. The tension rippling off him was that of a starving wolf wanting to attack its prey but finding restraint...barely.
I couldn’t stop staring at him. Couldn’t stop my heart from pushing through my ribs to go to him. To demand his name, his background, to know how he had such a power over me.
Crown of Lies Page 7