by Fine, Sarah
“It’s not booby-trapped, I swear,” I said, then sniffled.
He opened it slowly and carefully, like he didn’t quite believe me. By the time he lifted the lid off the tiny box, my heart rate was in the stratosphere. “Gracie,” he murmured as he laid the black-and-white photo, encased in glass, on his palm.
“It’s for your key ring. Speaking of having a piece of home.” I summoned the courage to look at his face, only to find him staring back at me.
“I get that. But you know what?” He leaned a little closer, and his gaze dropped to my mouth.
“What?” Oh my God, was he going to kiss me? Was I going to let it happen?
“Lately, it feels like—” He flinched and whipped around on the bench, staring at a spot across the square. “Shit.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me to my feet, sending my roasted nuts bouncing across the stone walkway. “We’ve got a stalker.” He yanked me forward, winding his way between booths.
“Who is it?”
“No idea, but we need to get some distance.”
“A Strikon.”
“No, a sensor.” His grip on my hand tightened. “Like me.”
That meant they wouldn’t need to see us to be able to follow us. If they were powerful enough, they’d simply track the vibe of Asa’s magic. “Any idea how sensitive?”
“Very,” he said in a hard voice as he leaped into the street. I shrieked as a yellow taxi came to a screeching halt barely a foot away from him. “Come on.”
I looked behind me at the glow of what we were leaving behind. “Do you know who it is?” Sometimes a natural’s magic was so distinctive that Asa could tell.
“No.” His brow furrowed. “I’ve felt it before, I think. A few times. But I don’t know who it is.” He wrenched the door of the cab open and bundled me inside, then barked an address at the driver—but not the one for our rented flat. “This relic is hotter than I thought, and we may not be the only ones making a play for it. We can’t go back to the apartment.”
“What about our stuff?”
“I’ll get one of my contacts to pick it all up and have it at the airport for us.” He fished out his burner phone and began texting.
“Oh, now texting is your thing.”
He snorted. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Are we going ahead or pulling out?” I asked, my voice betraying my fear.
“I never pull out, baby. It would ruin the best part.” He waggled his eyebrows without looking up from the screen of his phone.
He was trying to stem my anxiety, but tonight it wasn’t working. With trembling fingers, I swiped a drop of sweat off his jaw.
He caught my hand and squeezed it. “We’re gonna be fine.” He let out a long breath from between pursed lips. “I can’t feel them anymore. We’ve lost the tail.”
“For now.” My hand slipped to the hollow of my throat and clutched the vial of sand as our cab raced along the narrow street, the bright lights a blur. Home. I used to have such a rock-solid sense of it. And now it felt like an illusion, the danger circling all around me. Asa was the rock now, anchoring me in more ways than I wanted to admit. I mutely scooted closer to him as he texted his contacts, the light from his phone painting his skin a pale green in the darkness of the cab. He gave me a sidelong glance and turned slightly, opening his body toward mine. Offering himself.
We depended on each other. We were business partners; that was all. My fingers curled into the shoulder of his coat.
“It’s gonna be us, Mattie. It’s always gonna be us. I’m gonna make sure.”
“I know. You always do.” I stared past him, out into the night. Thanks to Asa, we were always a step ahead of all our enemies, seen and unseen.
But no matter how many times we escaped, no matter how long we stayed free, I couldn’t shake my dread of what would happen if they ever caught up.
CHAPTER TWO
At nine the next evening, as darkness fell over the city, we prepared to go our separate ways. Asa needed to make sure his contacts were in place, and I had to get myself in position.
“Just do what you rehearsed,” he said to me. He was wearing his usual cargo pants—pockets rattling and clanking and sloshing. His leather gloves scraped my skin as he pried my fingers loose from his hand. “I’ll be at the meetup right on time. I promise.”
I nodded, my mouth dry. I’d had the worst nightmares after we’d holed up in a shabby little hotel at the edge of the city, and I still hadn’t been able to shake the sense of foreboding that had settled on me last night. “Are you sure it’s safe?”
He tilted his head. “Safe? Are you serious?” I rolled my eyes, and he nudged my chin up. “You know I’ve got it set up so you’re not in any danger, right?”
“I’m not scared for myself, you idiot,” I snapped, glaring at the stone facade of the building behind him. Anything to avoid meeting his eyes.
“You worried about me, Mattie?” His tone was pure tease, and it made me want to kick him in the shins.
I twisted away from him. “Just be where you said you’ll be, when you said you’ll be, and I’ll be happy. I can’t wait for this job to be over.”
“You’ll be celebrating Christmas in London, baby.”
“As long as I’m not there alone,” I murmured as I walked away. With each step, I pulled my determination up around me like a pair of big-girl panties. I tucked myself into a little café and loaded up on caffeine while staring at pictures of the two mercenary dudes I was supposed to spot in the club. One had a doughy, pitted face and the other a shiny bald head. Both had cold, dead looks in their eyes.
“Crap. The timing.” I had completely forgotten to tell him I wasn’t sure how long the shift change would take. Asa had said we had to be in and out fast. I had no more than six minutes from the time I signaled the guard change to the time I had to be waiting for him outside. I pulled out my phone and shot him a quick text, hoping he would see it before the job got under way.
Anxiety sluicing through my veins, I marched out of the café and headed for the club. Tonight I would get it completely right. Asa was depending on me. I slid my coat off my shoulders, my muscles stiffening against the cold as I revealed my black dress with a sexy keyhole neckline. The dress clung to the curves that I’d regained over months of delighting in whatever local foods I could get my mouth on—brie in Paris, cannoli in Rome, fish-and-chips in Sydney, french fries at every stop. Now I had my cleavage back, and the slope of my hips drew appreciative glances, including from Asa. I rarely caught him looking, but when I did . . . I shivered and focused on my mission, smiling up at the tall bouncer.
“Back again?” His English was perfect, his accent that sexy eastern European lilt.
“I know what I like.”
“Meeting friends inside?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
His gaze slid up my legs. “Do they look anything like you?”
“I’m one of a kind.”
He laughed and pushed the door open for me. “I love Americans.”
Check. Or Czech, as it were. The bouncer was one of Asa’s contacts, and he’d just said the magic words. Things were rolling, and that was the signal that Asa was already inside. I walked up the crowded hallway and into the cavernous club, peering at the distant DJ booth up on the stage. On either side of the sprawling dance floor were two tiers of booths and tables bounded by glass walls. The club was packed on this Saturday night, the music deafening and pounding inside of me.
Squinting, I looked up at a little alcove just behind and above the DJ booth, where one of the new guards was standing. He was blocking the hallway that led to where the relic was hidden. If they kept to the schedule, any minute the other guard would come and relieve him. Now I just had to delay the new dude and let Asa’s contact take care of the guy up top. That would give Asa the few minutes he needed to swipe the relic and get out clean.
Sure enough, as I gyrated through the crowd, a bald guy in a gray suit slipped into the alcove, his cold e
yes on the gorgeous blonde in his arms—she was Asa’s contact. She sank to her knees, and Baldie leaned back, his eyes closed. Well, that was one way to distract him. I hoped he had some staying power. I had a slightly different approach planned, thanks to my partner in crime.
My gaze remained on the stairway that led up to the alcove where Baldie was being entertained while I inched my way over to the base of the stairs. I started to sweat. Where was the replacement guard? Had I missed him? If I had, would Asa see him in time? There were so many things that could go wrong.
“Excuse me,” said a deep voice, close to my ear. I started and looked up to see the mercenary with the doughy face looking annoyed—I was blocking his way.
I grinned up at him. “You’re a little overdressed for the party,” I said, eyeing his slightly rumpled suit. “Can you dance in that?” I asked as my hand crept toward the hidden pocket just inside the hem of my dress.
He smirked. “You think I’m here to dance?” He put one foot on the bottom step.
“You should be!” I ran my palm down my hip and slipped the tiny bottle free. Asa always knew what I needed. After listening to me describe the atmosphere of this club, he’d armed me with something he said would be absolutely perfect. “Come and dance with me.”
The mercenary’s gaze dropped to my boobs. “Maybe later.” I hadn’t moved, so he took my shoulders and began to move me out of the way. And that was when I squirted him dead in the face with the contents of my bottle.
“What the—” He released me and I staggered back, then got my footing and began dancing, blending into the crowd. The mercenary wiped his hand down his face, his look of irritation transforming into a grimace of pain. His pale skin turned chalky, then he doubled over and barfed all over the floor. Other clubbers leaped away from the splatter but kept dancing—it wasn’t so unusual for someone to overdo it. I’d seen the same thing happen in this very club on three separate occasions.
Wincing as another fountain of puke burst from the mercenary’s mouth, I looked up toward the alcove to see the shadow of the other dude still in place. I pulled my phone out of the neckline of my dress and shot Asa a text. Ready to rock?
I waited for a minute, expecting to see his response. Ready to roll. That’s what it was supposed to say. My phone buzzed. I focused on the screen.
Run
I read it just as a hard hand closed around my arm. The green-faced mercenary glared down at me. “You little bitch!”
I gouged my spiked heel into his shin and tore myself away, but collided with a couple of girls carrying glowing blue drinks. Glass shattered. My phone flew from my hand and clattered to the floor—where it was promptly stomped on by an overenthusiastic guest with slicked-back hair and sweat stains in his pits.
“No,” I gasped, lunging for it just as it was kicked beneath the feet of another tangle of dancers. Its screen went dark. “Oh, crap.” I glanced over my shoulder to see the mercenary, who had paused in his attack to spew all over the floor again, raise his head and bellow something up the stairs to his distracted partner. Then he snarled at me and dipped his hand inside his jacket.
Running seemed like a darn good idea.
I plunged into the writhing crowd, hoping the guy would have the sense not to shoot.
No such luck.
Even with the music pounding, the shots jolted the people around me. “Gun!” someone shouted as the crowd pressed back against walls and columns. With the strobe lights stroking the stampeding mob with pink and blue light, I had a clear view of the second mercenary bounding down the steps, his pants hanging open and his gun out. My heart in my throat, I turned toward the exit, only to find it blocked by a crush of bodies all trying to escape. And I was at the back, a small but convenient target as the sick guy, who could barely stand, pointed his thug partner in my direction.
Just as the mercenary raised his weapon, though, I was yanked to the side. Our bouncer contact pulled me toward a narrow hallway with brutal force and sweaty palms. “You can get out through the fire exit at the end of the hall,” he said. “For God’s sake, get out.” He disappeared through a doorway marked “Employees Only” as a few squealing women shoved past me. Another gunshot made me dive after them. I was too terrified to look behind me—there was nowhere to dodge or hide anyway, just a long corridor leading to a lit sign that read “Východ.”
I prayed that meant “exit.” But as long as it put a metal door between me and my pursuers, I really didn’t care. The girls in front of me hit the door with such force that it flew open, and I was through in an instant. The frigid air was filled with the sound of sirens. Like the others, I ran toward the street. I had no idea how many minutes had passed, but I decided to go to our prearranged meetup spot, which was one block up from the club, anyway. I hoped Asa would be waiting.
Assuming he’d gotten out safely.
A sense of dread welled up in me, making me shudder. And when I reached the street and turned toward our rendezvous point, I realized I had another problem—three police cars had arrived on the scene, and the road was packed with terrified clubbers. Some of the cops were cordoning off the area and pushing people back, not letting them pass on the sidewalks, while others ran inside the building.
It had been a crazily fast response. Had it been even a minute since the first shot was fired? Reeling and disoriented, I looked around, knowing I needed to reroute. Even if he had gotten out, Asa couldn’t exactly hang out on a street corner, out in the open. And yet, I knew he wouldn’t leave me behind—which meant he would risk himself to get me.
I leaned against a streetlamp, realizing that I’d lost my coat somewhere inside. “Oh God,” I said in a choked voice, avoiding the curious gazes of a few passersby. I wrapped my arms around myself. Asa would have no way of knowing I’d lost my phone. What if he’d texted me another place to meet?
“Oh God. Oh God.” I jumped into action and sprinted down the block, away from the chaos, then hooked a sharp right, planning to skirt around the crowd and come at the intersection from a different direction. But just as I reached the corner, a slender young man with a swoop of brown hair appeared and blocked my way.
“Hello there,” he said in a distinctly Russian accent. He fondled his ornate silver belt buckle, and his eyes settled on my chest. “Something tells me you’re the girl I’m looking for.”
“Nope,” I said. And then I ran. No looking back, just an outright sprint in the opposite direction. I could hear the thumps of his footsteps behind me and the huff of his breath, enough to know he was right on my tail and would tackle me at any second.
But then a motorcycle turned the corner and roared halfway down the block, approaching fast. My Russian pursuer let out a sharp grunt, and I turned to see him collapse onto the pavement, unconscious. Asa came to a screeching halt right in front of me, helmet on, holding his baton, which he promptly collapsed and shoved into his coat before tossing the spare helmet at me. It hit my chest, and I caught it by sheer reflex as I gaped at him.
“Come on,” Asa roared. “Get those little legs moving!”
I crammed the helmet onto my head and threw myself onto the bike behind him. “How the heck did you find me?” I was so relieved to see him that I giggled, high-pitched and near hysterical.
But as soon as I wrapped my arms around him, my laughter died. Something was wrong.
His entire body was drenched with sweat and trembling. Not with weakness, but with tension. It felt as if he were about to explode. But I held on tight as he took off again, shooting us down the block away from the club. “Are you okay?” I shouted.
“The helmets are wired,” he said, the sound completely clear, his voice as shaky as his body. “You just busted my fucking eardrums.”
“Sorry,” I whispered.
“Just don’t fall off.” He tilted the bike and executed a sharp right turn that made my stomach swoop.
“Are we being chased?”
“See for yourself.”
I glanced at the mi
rror on the handlebars and saw two black cars less than a block away. “Who is it?”
“Volodya’s people. They arrived just as I was swiping the relic. God, you have to stop touching me that way.”
I flinched. “What?”
“Fuck,” he whispered. “Never mind.” His hips shifted between my thighs and he leaned forward, but I had no choice but to lean with him if I wanted to stay on the bike. He moaned.
“Am I hurting you?”
“No,” he said in a tight voice. “Just . . . don’t move. Keep your hands where they are.”
Fear trickled icily into my belly. Something had happened, and I had no idea how to help. All I could do was hold on as we raced through the streets, bumping up on sidewalks, taking hairpin turns, changing direction, and finally streaking along a highway across the river. We’d left the two black cars in the dust miles ago, but Asa didn’t seem to be taking any chances. Finally, he whipped the bike into an alley and came to an abrupt stop, jumped off, and sprinted along, clearly expecting me to follow. I did, as quickly as I could, my ankles wobbling and my heart pounding. Finally he stopped. I leaned against a wall and panted as he reached behind a large trash bin and came out holding a duffel bag. He knelt and pulled a small object from an inner pocket of his coat, grumbling to himself in desperate tones. After a moment he simply dropped the thing into the bag and ripped the zipper closed, his hands seemingly too unsteady to manage anything else.
“You’re scaring me,” I said quietly.
“Let’s go.” He shot to his feet and grabbed my hand, then cursed and dropped it. “Let’s go.”
Utterly confused, I followed him down the street. The brick streets and classic architecture said we were somewhere in the old city. Asa strode quickly up to a facade lined with flags. Beneath a glass awning a sign read “Hotel.”
And what a hotel. As we entered, the marble floors gleamed beneath massive chandeliers. To our left lay an extremely fancy-looking restaurant, complete with tuxedoed waitstaff. Asa spoke briefly with the front desk attendant and then stalked over to the elevator.