Clearing my throat, I looked away from him. “What if, um, what if I don’t want to stay at this meeting?”
“Answer a few questions and I won’t attempt to stop you.” When I risked a glance at him, he nodded slightly as he added, “You have my word.”
It shouldn’t have matter if he gave his word or not. And yet . . . I believed him. I considered my options. I couldn’t escape him by running and if I tried, I had no doubt he would report me to Weard Enterprises and they would send hunters after me. But, if I went somewhere and listened . . .
I swallowed hard and then nodded. “Okay. I choose the place.”
“Of course.”
Mind racing, I tightened my grip on my keys to keep from dropping them again. “There is a, umm, a coffee shop on the corner. We can go there.”
Mr. 10 nodded. “I will follow you there.”
He stepped around me taking his warmth with him.
Shivering, I turned to my car and managed to get the key in the lock. As I unlocked it, I darted a glance at his retreating back. He stopped in front of a black sedan and turned back to me. Our gazes met, and he bowed his head in what could have been considered a salute. “I am glad you were not injured this morning, Hope.”
I gaped at him like a complete idiot before I turned back to my car. Yanking the door open, I knocked the edge into my own knee before I managed to slide into the driver’s seat. I slammed the door and buried my head in my hands. “What is wrong with you?”
I ran my hands through my hair, wincing when my tender scalp reminded me of the unpleasant hair pulling earlier. I took a deep breath and blew it out. I wasn’t powerful, but I still had some of my wits about me. I would find a way to creep out of this trap. Like a clever little fox temporarily hemmed in her hole by a baying hound . . . or a stalking cheetah.
Turning the car on, I worked to calm my still jittery nerves. Maybe working for dragon shifters in Mississippi wasn’t the worst option. Dragon shifters had to hide their true natures and so they took care to control their employees, even if they were among the Fae. If I started low enough in the company, I likely wouldn’t need to interact much, if at all, with any of the actual dragon shifters. Mississippi was far enough away from both Olympia and Chicago that I could stay out of sight and hopefully fade from the mind of Mr. 10.
Having a potential avenue of escape in place was enough to let me drive to the coffee shop and get out of the car without feeling too desperate. My nerves settled further when the coffee shop proved just as busy as I had prayed. And, all the numbers were 3s with the occasional 4 sprinkled throughout. Okay, I could do this. I only promised to answer a few questions, and then I could slip away.
There was a warm presence at my back and I looked up to see Mr. 10’s steady gaze. One corner of his mouth quirked up in a not quite smile, as his gaze flicked from me to the buzzing crowd. He nodded and then breathed, “Check.”
“I will find a place to sit,” I gasped.
“What would you like to drink? A latte? Iced Coffee? Tea?”
“Hot chocolate.” The words fell out of my mouth before I could quite recover from the incongruous clash of a dangerous man, one of the deadliest men I had ever crossed paths with, mildly inquiring about my drinking preferences. In a too delicious British accent that almost made me want to ask for tea. And, I avoided tea when not sick.
Feeling like a fool about to get snared instead of slipping the noose, I quickly turned away and wove through the chattering patrons. Finding a little table stuck in the far corner, I slipped into the chair closest to the emergency exit. I had to get control of myself. It wouldn’t matter if I left after the first question if I couldn’t keep from falling into Mr. 10’s trap of false safety. If nothing else, the 10 I could still see blazing over the rest of the crowd of numbers in the shop should deter me.
I needed to be more careful. I didn’t know why he felt so . . . non-threatening. His number . . . 7s and 8s were usually so intense that I couldn’t help feeling wary around them, especially if they were paranormals. I had never crossed paths with anyone higher than an 8 before Mr. 10 showed up, something I had always thanked God for given how jittery 8s made me feel. But, Mr. 10 didn’t have that same feel to him. He felt . . . different. If I couldn’t see his number, I probably would have laughed if anyone had told me about it. The numbers never lied. They were the one thing I could trust.
I thought of Harry Smalls and hid a grimace. Something had happened to his number, to him. Something I didn’t understand. Digging into things would only bring disaster, and I couldn’t bring myself to want that. Someone else would figure out what happened to him. I just needed to keep my head down and get as far away from Olympia as possible. Maybe Sharon and Beth would agree to do blind referral letters so I wouldn’t need to share with them where I was going. Or what company I might aim for in that new state.
“One hot chocolate for the lady.”
I almost jumped out my seat when a lidded cup was placed in front of me. A frantic glance up had Mr. 10 looking almost amused again. He sat down his own drink, which was in one of the shop’s in-house mugs, as he continued, “And tea, earl grey, for myself.”
“No mug?”
His blue-green eyes met mine as he said with just a hint of humor, “I thought you might wish to leave abruptly and it would be a pity for you to leave behind a hot chocolate because of it. I considered getting some biscuits, but I thought you wouldn’t be willing to take any food from my hand at the moment.”
I looked down before my lips betrayed me by curving up. Gingerly folding my hands around my cup, I closed my eyes as I gathered my thoughts . . . and my sense of self-preservation. Keeping my voice low, I said, “You wanted to ask a few questions.”
“I did.” There was a pause that stretched long enough that I was compelled to open my eyes and look up at him. He was watching me with a thoughtful expression before he continued, “Where is it you are from, Hope?”
“Nowhere in particular and everywhere in general.”
His eyes narrowed for the briefest moment, and I tensed expecting harsher more focused questions. Then he relaxed in his seat, nodding. He took a sip of his tea. He looked so harmless that I could feel my muscles relaxing despite what my brain was screaming at me. No one should be relaxed while in the company of a 10. Of course, 10s weren’t even supposed to exist anymore. Unless their numbers had experienced a reemergence in the wake of the high numbers’ vicious campaign against Spotters.
“Where did you go to school?”
“Small college no one ever heard of,” I replied automatically. Never mind the fact that I hadn’t been able to stay long enough to finish my degree. I had only been able to afford one class before I was forced to move on again. Fortunately, my first two employers just needed a warm body to answer the phones and were more than happy with my high school diploma. The third fired me, which was why I had abandoned my college goal.
“Family live around here?”
It took all my willpower not to flinch or to touch the sapphire teardrop hanging from a fine silver chain around my neck. Meeting his eyes steadily, I shook my head. “No. No family.”
“I see. Do they live elsewhere? In the States?” He studied me and then asked, “Or perhaps out of the country? Turkey? Israel? Greece?”
“So you think just because you’re sitting with an olive skinned woman, I must have family currently living in Turkey?” My eyes widened as the corner of his mouth crept up. Feeling warm and panic beating its frantic wings again, I hurried to add, “Or Israel?” Fuming more at my own slip than his prodding, I frowned at him. “Well, I don’t.”
“What about Greece?”
“Certainly not,” I stated tartly. I reached blindly for my purse as I continued, “I don’t know what these questions have to do with anything, but I’m done answering them. I don’t want any trouble, and you don’t have the right to dig into my past or my present. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go home.”
As I reached
for my cup of hot chocolate, Mr. 10 covered my hand with his. He didn’t grab or even wrap his fingers around my wrist to hold me in place. He didn’t need to since I froze the moment his fingers brushed the back of my hand.
He leaned forward slightly, keeping his voice low, as he said, “One last question, Hope. You have the power to save hundreds if not thousands of lives just as you did this morning yet you hide. Why?”
Pursing my lips, I looked away from him. I couldn’t answer. He may not have called me a coward outright but the implication was there. And, it stung a lot more than I expected.
“Have you considered how much more you could do? How many people you could save if you worked with Weard Enterprises? You wouldn’t need to be an employee if you don’t want to move to Chicago. You could do just as much as a consultant.”
A wry laugh escaped me before I could stifle it. Pulling my hand out from under his, I shook my head. “I don’t care what kind of ribbons you try to put on that place. I’ll never work for them.”
He sat back in his chair. I braced myself for the angry denial or the switch from a suggestion to a threat. I had heard and occasionally witnessed enough reactions from Weard employees when their company’s reputation was questioned to expect either one. The latter had grown more common in the last few years. Of course, I normally left town before seeing such a reaction myself.
But he didn’t do either. He studied me almost like he didn’t know what to make of me. I reached for my hot chocolate again, feeling a surge of relief when he didn’t try to stop me this time. That didn’t stop my heart from beating frantically as I expected an outburst or some sort of attempt on his part to stop me again. He was still looking at me so I offered a little nod. “I’m afraid I have to go now.”
I rose from my seat, shoulders tensed and hands trembling, and then wove through the even larger crowd. A quick peek over my shoulder proved he was still sitting at the table, 10 blazing above his head as he sipped his tea. Turning away from the incongruous sight, I increased my stride as I slipped out of the coffee shop and made my way to my car.
I was in my apartment and checking my go bag before I was struck by a new realization. He never called me a Spotter. I sank onto the edge of the bed taking a shuddering breath. Running over our encounters, I nodded slowly. It was true.
Not once had Mr. 10 said the word ‘Spotter’. Maybe . . . Maybe he didn’t actually know what I was and that’s why he was behaving so strangely for a high number. He was trying to smoke me out, make me run as confirmation of whatever his suspicions were, which meant . . . I needed to stay put. For now.
Still the thought of continuing to work at Halliman’s when Mr. 10 was roaming around and, worse, noticing me sent a chill down my spine. I looked at my go bag. I had been forced to drop everything and run in the past. Running now with no job security waiting for me and no way to bring references for a better job made me hesitate, especially when I remembered the lease on my apartment had a stiff penalty for breaking it. It could easily wipe out what remained of my savings after the disaster of having a car wreck in February because some juvenile Sasquatches spooked an entire herd of deer into the road when I was driving back from delivering files to a tense relocation meeting in Port Angles. If Mr. Halliman hadn’t insisted the company help pay some of the damages because it happened on company time, I would have been in deep trouble for paying rent. As it was, I was forced to live hand to mouth until June before I was able to get by without using the majority of my paycheck to keep the electricity on and a roof over my head.
I bit my lip as I rubbed my fingers together. I needed to get through at least two more months before I could risk leaving and letting my lease lapse. I definitely couldn’t afford any more meals out. Not if I wanted enough savings to have options beyond sleeping in my car until I found a new place to land.
My mind flashed again to Mr. 10. A dangerous man, a threat, but if he was really just fishing and trying to spook me, then . . . well, it was working. I rubbed my temple as I weighed the options. Running now could be more dangerous than staying, and the thought alone terrified me. I didn’t want to go to work knowing Mr. 10 was not only in the building but now suspected me. If I left now . . .
After staying in my apartment for the next three days courtesy of Mr. Halliman’s understanding and some sick leave, I still didn’t have a solution. I spent most of those days huddled in my room searching for job openings in other states. Every time there was a noise in the hall or from one of the neighbors, I would jump out of my skin terrified Mr. 10 had sent Weard Enterprises after me at last. The thought of seeing him again was equally alarming. The only reason I returned to work Friday was because I needed hours. The damage to the exec level’s reception area had been cleaned up, leaving only a few mars against the desks and far wall that attested to something unpleasant daring to occur, and I hadn’t seen Mr. 10 at all. It was almost too good to be true.
Sharon mentioned that I was going to receive additional pay for not only filling in, but coming back. Apparently one of the other receptionists had quit over the incident, saying her sense of safety had vanished. I could completely empathize with her. Somehow I made it through the workday without making any errors despite how often I jumped when someone spoke to me or came in through the doors. Fortunately, they all assumed my nerves were due to the encounter with Harry Smalls. I was congratulated several times on my bravery in coming back. Bravery, ha! If only they knew. I was such a quivering mess that it was a miracle I didn’t run screaming into the streets. Running away from Halliman’s and Olympia and, better yet, the whole of Washington State seemed more and more appealing as time ticked by far too slowly.
Finally, Sharon came by and offered a tense smile. “Miss Hope, it was good to have you here today.”
I offered a faint smile of my own. “I am grateful to have survived.”
The older woman nodded sagely as she patted me on the arm. “As am I. Although, I have to say you did better than I did when I came back yesterday. I scared the entire level into a panic when Mr. Halliman came in while I wasn’t paying attention. Poor man, I don’t know which of us was more frightened when I screamed.”
My smile grew as I covered her hand with my own. “I’ve bitten my cheek so many times to keep from screaming out loud, it’s awful.”
“Monday will be better, Miss Hope. The repairs will be finished this weekend and no one will be able to guess anything unpleasant happened here.” She paused and then added, “That is, if you are coming in Monday. Or do you wish to return downstairs? I can probably arrange for a temp to come in if that’s more comfortable.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s all right. I can work up here as long as I’m needed.”
Sharon looked so relieved that I didn’t have the heart to even hint I might be leaving town in the near future. It seemed . . . cruel. I left then, my heels clicking loudly against the marble floors of the lobby. But, I bypassed the elevators in favor of the stairs. It was just late enough that Beth might get on the elevators, and I didn’t want to get stuck listening to her many reasons why I should go out with her and the others. As I reached the landing for the sixth floor, my steps slowed of their own accord and I couldn’t help eying the door like it was a portal to my doom. Or at least to the equally dangerous Mr. 10.
I stopped a minute and then slipped off my heels. Grasping them in one hand, I continued down the stairs in my bare feet. Now there was the occasional jingle of my keys, but for the most part I was able to descend the stairs in near perfect silence. I didn’t run down them. However, I kept to a quick trot. Cameras had been added to the stairwells, and I didn’t want to bring security down on my head because my anxious desire to escape the firm had caused me to race pell-mell down the stairs. I also didn’t want to be breathing so hard that I couldn’t hear anyone trying to come up behind me.
By the time my feet touched the landing on the first floor, I was a little winded. I needed to get back into taking the stairs including up to the se
venth floor. Slipping my heels back on, I took a few deep breaths before I dared to walk through the door that led to the lobby. I could see the crowd was thinning already as I made my way to the elevator bank and pressed the button for parking.
Some miracle must have happened because no one else stepped into the elevator with me. Thank God, no more small talk or awkward explanations or unfounded praises of my bravery. I slumped against the back wall of the elevator as the doors started to close, then they opened again as a blazer covered arm shot between the doors. I straightened as a blazing 10 filled my vision before the man himself stepped in with me.
He nodded to me. “Hope.”
I stared at him barely managing a nod. His icy blue collared shirt made his blue-green eyes turn a lovely shade of pale blue. After a too long moment, I realized I was still staring at him like some besotted girl who had tripped over one of Cupid’s arrows. I quickly turned my face to the elevator doors. I thought I heard a muffled chuckle, but didn’t dare to look at him again. Suddenly, everything about him annoyed me including his delicious accent. No, no it was not delicious. It was a very nice . . . It was a British accent, nothing special.
Were my cheeks burning? I almost closed my eyes as I prayed they weren’t showing a blush. My complexion was a creamy tan, but I hadn’t spent as much time out in the sun so my tan wasn’t as dark as it could have been . . . and possibly not enough to hide a very ill timed blush.
It felt like hours before the elevator finally came to a halt and opened its doors. I hurried out of them and then forced my steps to slow once more. Running from a cheetah or a sphinx would only turn you into prey. Running from a man sent by Weard Enterprises who was already suspicious of me would only end in disaster.
“How was your first day back at work, Hope?”
I heard his steps coming closer, and then he was lazily strolling in comparison to my somewhat clipped pace. I was definitely taking three to four steps for his every one. I sensed him coming a little closer and didn’t dare look at him as I murmured, “It was . . . uneventful.”
Rogue Spotter Collection Page 3