Creature of Habit (Creature of Habit #1) (17 page)

"Grant!"

I looked down to find Olivia below me and Elijah kicking Caleb's amputated arm across the floor.

I surveyed the damage from above. Elijah's shirt was torn, revealing deep scratches across his chest. He grimaced as Olivia poked and prodded, assessing his injuries. She, on the other hand, was spotless, not a hair out of place.

"They're burning beyond the parking lot. In a pit," Elijah informed me, rubbing the spot where red teeth marks broke the skin. "That fledgling was a bitch. All teeth and nails."

I looked at Olivia and she shrugged. “That vampire underestimated my size and my ability. He thought too much. Definitely not spontaneous enough for a challenging fight.”

I jumped down. Elijah nudged the arm again with his foot, watching it as it continued to twitch. He asked, "What happened to the rest of him?"

"He's gone. But Sasha knows where Amelia lives. She's there or going there now. I don't know." I heard the tremble in my voice. "Eli, take care of Caleb's arm. Olivia, call Amelia and keep her out of her apartment. Call me when you find her." They both nodded, wishing me luck. "I'm going on foot, it will be faster."

In a flash I was out of the mill, traveling through the wet, dark woods, fear taking over my body. I'd been late too many times as far as Caleb was concerned. He had the upper hand on me time and time again. It was understandable now that I knew he had been tracking me and had access to my mind. Regardless of my failures, I couldn't let the same thing happen with Amelia.

Driven to protect her, I felt the branches push past me as I traveled through the forest, each mile beneath my feet taking me one step closer to her or Sasha. I would deal with whichever one I met first.

~*~

I waited in the shadows of Amelia's apartment, phone in hand. Olivia was on the other end assuring me that Amelia was safe. Not only had she been able to see her, she spoke to her on the phone for clarification.

Unfortunately, Olivia had not been able to get a position on Sasha which meant she could be in the apartment right now. I used the traditional method and climbed the stairs to get to her unit. At her door, I took out the key I made and pushed it into the lock. The minute I opened the door I was struck by a wave of Sasha's scent. I listened intently but couldn't hear any noise from inside the apartment. I shut the door quietly behind me and entered the small foyer. There was nothing noticeable missing or any signs that a vampire had been in the apartment. In fact, if not for my superior senses, Amelia would have no evidence at all that there had been any kind of break in.

I quickly swept the apartment, noting that Sasha had spent the majority of her time in Amelia's room. Again, nothing seemed disturbed.

My phone vibrated and I pulled it out of my pocket.

"She's gone. Do you know where she went?" I asked, thumbing along Amelia's bookshelf and stack of mail to see if anything was missing. Everything seemed to be in place.

Olivia spoke quickly, "No, I can't see her. Some flashes but nothing concrete. Amelia is on her way home, though. I don't think you want her to catch you in her apartment."

"Thanks. Talk to you soon." I ended the call.

From the window in the living room I saw Amelia turn into the parking lot. She seemed hesitant to get out of the car and I wished I could go down there and ease her fears. Amelia finally got out of the car. She looked around the parking lot and then almost sprinted to the stairway. Was she always this scared?

Once she was out of view I tracked her movements by the sound of her feet as they echoed off the steps. I placed my hand on the door, feeling the vibrations of her movements as she approached. Her keys jangled, shaking nervously, as she fumbled them in the lock, dropping them once to the ground with a soft clink.

Her breath came out in gasps from her run up the stairs. I wondered what it would be like to feel her breath across my face. I pressed my forehead to the door, willing her inside. Outside, her heart sounded like a thousand drummers, ricocheting through my bones.

thump thump thump thump thump thump….

The knob twisted and the door opened a fraction. I saw her foot poke around the sharp corner.

I took one last look at her fingers wrapped around the edge of the door and slipped out the window, into the night.

Chapter 28

Amelia

I stepped in my apartment and closed the door quickly behind me, triple locking it as fast as my trembling hands could move. I was freaked. Panicked. I took a couple of deep breaths to calm myself down from Olivia’s calls. The first one was no big deal and I passed it off as a friendly, although random, call. The second one set me on edge when she inquired about my location. She sounded relieved when I said I was on my way home. Apparently, she had a hunch so she wanted to check on me.

A hunch? What the hell did that mean?

In light of the weird stuff with Sasha I wasn't taking any chances. I glanced around the house and everything seemed in place. I fought the urge to open the closet doors and peek under the bed. I had no doubt that if Sasha wanted me she would just come out and do it.

I went to my bedroom to change out of my work clothes. I walked to the dresser and began digging though my drawers, annoyed that I hadn't taken the time to wash clothes recently. I found a pair of gray cotton shorts and reached in to my T-shirt drawer and pulled out the first one. I sighed deeply when I saw the faded worn colors.

Let It Bleed
.

The Rolling Stones had that right. I pulled it up to my face and sniffed the scent of laundry detergent. I'd washed it when I got home that night, horrified at the streaks of dirt and bleach that wouldn't come out. The bleach was so concentrated it actually ate holes though the fabric in several places. I felt terrible ruining Mr. Palmer's shirt and guiltily shoved it under the clean clothes, trying to put it out of my mind. I eyed the traitorous pile of laundry overflowing the hamper and cursed the fact my buried sins had floated to the top.

Tossing it on the dresser, I dug though the drawer looking for something comfortable to wear. I was left with a never been worn or washed freebie shirt from my bank and my ex-boyfriend’s baseball shirt from freshman year.

Neither had much appeal.

Out of options, I put on the tattered, soft Rolling Stones shirt and a hoodie, refusing to look at myself in the mirror. On my way to the kitchen a sharp knock echoed off the door. I froze, wondering if I should open it or pretend I wasn’t home. I was going with ignoring it until whomever it was knocked again. Only a little louder. Murderers and kidnappers didn’t knock did they? Of course not. Drew probably lost his key again. I walked to the door and pushed up on my toes, peeking through the spy hole. All I could see was pale flesh and arguably the most angular jaw I've ever seen. 

I quickly unlatched the locks and opened the door to find Grant Palmer standing in front of me doing that thing where he is trying to look calm but his jaw was clenched so tight I wouldn’t be surprised if it snapped in half.

I pushed a lock of hair behind my ear and frowned. "Hey, what are you doing here? Is everything okay? Did I forget something?"

He awkwardly shoved his hands in his pant pockets and then pulled them back out. He was fidgeting. Mr. Palmer didn't fidget. Something was up. "May I come in?"

Realizing I barely had the door open at all, I swung it wide enough to allow him inside. He brushed past me, lightly grazing my hand with his own. A spark of energy shot up my arm.  He murmured an apology, looking a little horrified. Was it because I’m an employee, or a woman?

I suspected neither one sat well with him.

"Wow. Do you keep the air on full blast in your car? You're like an icicle," I joked, rubbing the side of my hand where we touched, attempting to break the tension of my boss being in my house. Again.

We faced one another in the middle section of the apartment, the tiny area between the door and the living room, overlooking the kitchen. The entire living area was smaller than his closet.  That only exacerbated the fact he was close to me, too close, and he smelled like rain and leaves. His nostrils flared slightly and he looked anywhere but at my face. If he wasn’t gay I’d assume he was asexual.

He gave me a tight smile. "Something like that.”

The room filled with one of our uncomfortable silences. I gestured to the living room. "Please, sit down. Can I get you anything?"

He shook his head no and he sat in the arm chair so I took the couch. He looked ridiculous sitting in our undersized IKEA chair, like a supermodel sent to a J C Penney photo shoot instead of Abercrombie & Fitch. I settled back in the cushions and tucked my legs under my chin.

"Why are you here, Mr. Palmer?" I asked, trying to desperately figure out what he was doing at my apartment so late at night. I nervously ran my fingers up and down the pull cord of my hoodie.  “Is there an emergency? Do you need something done for work tonight?”

He took a deep breath and looked me in the eye. "I'm not sure how to explain all of this, Amelia, but I've been watching your apartment since the unfortunate assault downtown. I hate to inform you, but there has been a breach of your security this evening."

His words were formal and business like. I wasn't exactly sure what he meant. "You've been watching my house."

He nodded slowly and explained, "Yes. Well, my security firm has, since the attack by Sasha."

I felt my brow crease and my breathing picked up a notch. "And your security firm thinks someone broke in?”

"Yes, I’m confident that they are correct.” He must have sensed my panic because he added, “It’s okay, she has left the premises now.”

I looked at him sitting in my affordable Swedish chair, in his five hundred dollar shoes, his perfectly muscular arms peeking out from under his black t-shirt, calmly telling me a sociopath had broken into my home. Today. Tonight.

I hopped off the couch and paced a small circle around the apartment. I didn’t know which information was the most alarming. Sasha in my apartment or Mr. Palmer having people watch me. Something about my very small, insulated world had taken a turn toward the surreal.

I rounded the couch and stood in front of him. His long legs bent in front of him, cramped in the small space. "When were you going to tell me you've been following me?" I asked.

His eyes locked with mine. "I was hoping not to have to."  I stared back, incredulous. He continued, "I hoped she would go away. That she would leave you alone. But she has not."

In that very moment I felt a sudden but distinct shift in our relationship.

I sat back down on the couch and wrapped my arms around my legs. Closing my eyes, I felt the tears pooling behind my lids and I wished them away. I wished for strength but it didn't come. What was happening here?

"Why me?" I asked from behind my knees. So quiet I was sure he couldn't hear me. “There is absolutely no reason for this psycho to have a hard-on for me.”

"I'm not sure," he responded.  “Amelia, I don't know why she picked you specifically, but she is very dangerous. You have to take precautions against her and the others."

I gasped. "Others? The boyfriend?"

He nodded solemnly. I rested my chin on my knees, trying desperately not to freak out, but I was failing miserably. My breathing accelerated and my palms turned slick. Mr. Palmer continued to sit across from me, perched on the edge of the chair, looking extremely uncomfortable.

“Amelia?”

The panic attack hovered over me like a wave, threatening to take me under. "Oh my God.”

He blinked, uncomfortably. “What do I do? How can I help?”

“Talk. Say something. Do a dance.”

This time he blanched. “Dance?”

The wheezing started and bile rose in the back of my throat.

“Uh, well, okay,” he floundered. “Let’s see…my other assistant, Genevieve, the one that interviewed you. She’s a member of my family. I had another PA, before her, a graduate like you, but she got engaged and moved with little notice. I needed someone consistent for a while and she agreed.”

The panic crested, not better, but at the same time it wasn't getting worse. I wasn't expecting this type of information but I was fascinated by his revelation. He raised an eyebrow and continued, “So you’ve actually met most of my family. That’s pretty rare since I try to avoid them most of the time.”

I gulped for air. "Why do they bother you so much?”

He shrugged. “It’s complicated. They’re intrusive and think they should have opinions in everything I do. They don’t always approve of my lifestyle.”

“Sounds like pretty typical family behavior.”

“Maybe.”

“If that’s half your family, who haven’t I met?”

We sat together, my steadying breaths the only sound between us. Occasionally I could see Mr. Palmer's Adam's apple lob up and down when he swallowed. “Ryan and Sebastian are twins. They’re sixteen and completely out of control.  Well, Sebastian’s okay but he’s gone through a lot in his life. Ryan is an absolute knucklehead.

“Again, pretty typical about sixteen year-olds.”

“I guess, but that’s the thing about my family, Amelia, everyone carries a lot of baggage. We sort of came together out of necessity—not genetics.”

“Wait, you’re not related?”

“Not by blood. The house in Black Mountain, it’s more like a group home than anything else. We were all brought together by Miles, the real founder of the Palmer Foundation, and he’s helped everyone assimilate from their old lives.”

I couldn’t imagine what sort of life Mr. Palmer had before this, but I got the feeling there were a lot of things I didn’t understand or know about him.

Letting out a deep, uneven breath I relaxed, just a little. “What am I going to do? Should I call the police about the break-in?”

“The police are limited in what they can do in a situation like this.” Moving fast enough to make me blink, he was crouched in front of me, balancing on the balls of his feet. His dark hair was close enough for me to touch and pushed back haphazardly. I felt his cool breath caress my face as he declared, "My security team will use all of its available resources on your case, Amelia. I promise to keep you safe."

As much as I wanted to believe him how could he make this type of promise? How could he guarantee my safety? He was only a man. Sure he was rich and had resources, but beyond that? It wasn’t as though he was Bruce Wayne.

“Thank you, Mr. Palmer. I’m not sure how much you can do but I won’t turn you away.”

I leaned back into the couch, resting my head in a thick, soft pillow, exhaustion taking over. No one else was offering to protect me so I had no choice but to put my faith in him.

He was still there, crouching next to the couch. I could see the lean bands of muscle that stretched up and down his forearms as his hands clenched into balls. He gave me the most wonderful lopsided grin and said, "You're tired. I should go."

Alarmed at the thought of him leaving, I sat up and clutched the edge of the couch. "Will you stay? At least until I fall asleep?”

He hesitated, running his palm over his jaw.  Caught in some kind of internal struggle, he shut his eyes. I’d asked for too much. He was just a man—not a superhero, I reminded myself, again. He was busy and owed me nothing. I should be thankful for the security watch.

“Of course,” he said, returning to the seat across from mine.

“Thank you, Mr. Palmer.”

I laid my head back into the pillow, shifting my jacket to get more comfortable.

"Amelia, before you go to sleep, two things…

I glanced over at my dark guardian angel cloaked in the shadows. “Sure."

He cleared his throat and said, "First, can you please call me Grant? Mr. Palmer seems a little formal under the circumstances."

I laughed. “Okay, Grant.”

I heard the smile in his voice as he laughed with me and waited for him to continue. He paused long enough that I stole another glance in his direction. He was looking at me intently, eyes narrowed, crease in his forehead. Confused, I felt my hair and wiped my face, feeling self-conscious. "What?"

He stood up and walked over to me, lifting his hand. I scooted back under his scrutiny and felt his fingers as they wrapped around the zipper of my hoodie. In a quick motion, he tugged the zipper down. "Are you wearing my shirt?"