Pn1 (10 page)

"Oh for the love of Mom, where are you?"

"At work," Gillian squeaked.

"Gillian Constance Montague."

"I'm scared." Gillian's body cowered from practiced memory.

She could hear her sister throwing things on the other end and a

not-so-private argument between Brad and her. Great, now she could

add relationship butcher to her skill set. That was not going on her

next resume, which she suspected she'd be putting together once her

heart and lungs worked in concert.

"Where will you be?"

"Outside I guess under the bright lights, but I'm going to wait

awhile before going out. Just don't honk, okay?" Gillian gulped. She

could see Liz rolling her eyes and brewing up a storm of swear words

to use on her.

The phone went dead. Gillian looked at it in her numb hand and

limply put it back in her pocket. On second consideration, she pulled

it out, made sure the sound was completely off, not even on vibrate,

and put it firmly away.

60

When she couldn't take counting the shadows and determining if

the black pools were growing closer, she slid up the door and opened

it as quietly as caked, dirty hinges allowed. Closing it behind her, she

remembered to lock it. She wasn't sure if she was locking what she

feared inside or out with her, but it seemed the dutiful thing to do.

Looking at the key, she didn't know whether to keep it or not, but if

the key was found here then Patryk would have lied for nothing, and

men didn't usually lie without reason. And the reason inevitably

would lead to Sebastian. Gillian stifled a dry heave that tried to

invade her throat.

She dropped the key into her pocket and waited; she really didn't

want to know why Patryk thought lying to his brother was necessary.

It wasn't like they were having a secret boss-employee tryst or

embezzling money together.

God, was that why he thought she was there? Did he think

Sebastian would think so too and lash out at her? How could anyone

think that about her?

She had wanted to make sure the shipment of supplies to Doctors

Without Borders went smoothly, nothing more. It was her first big

allotment of money from the fund she oversaw. Did Patryk think she

was breaking into the warehouse to sell the supplies? He could crush

her, kill her, just by bumping into her.

* * * *

girl and making sure Sebastian wasn't returning from his scouting

with the other. She was either very brave or humanly stupid. She

certainly was clueless about the work location, but the way she'd

prickled when Sebastian talked indicated deep within her a set of

survival skills capable of being jumpstarted, senses that could be

tuned into the natural world, if only ... Refusing to go where his

thoughts wanted to, he settled into watching, waiting, and listening, a

normal night really, save her presence keeping him company. Her

personal perfume kept him company from where she'd brushed her

oils off on his shirt. He suckled his shirt to memorize her scent inside

and out.

61

He had no problem having her musk around him, and in that laid

the problem because if he liked the smell so would Sebastian. If

Sebastian messed up one more time there was nothing his status could

do to protect Sebastian from the clan. Rules were rules. Everyone

knew that, everyone but Sebastian.

62

By the time, Liz's car lights swerved into the drop-off zone, Gillian

was blubbering and grateful she hadn't put makeup on to go out. The

car lights hurt her red eyes, but she walked through their throbbing

beams to skitter over to the passenger side and wrench the door open

before slamming it shut. "Drive, just drive. Okay."

Gillian sat on her hands to keep them still, her teeth chattered and

her head whipped around to make sure the dark was staying put.

"Okay now you are scaring me. What happened? Did someone try

to rape you, rob you? And why are you are work at this hour? You

don't exactly work on Madison avenue." Liz twisted the steering

wheel hard, making the tires screech, but it got them in line with the

exit drive. "Do we want police to find us or not?" Her foot paused

over the brakes.

"No, no police. I didn't do anything wrong though." Gillian

nervously got her seat belt on. She stared at the rise and fall of her

chest.

Liz looked at her out of the corner of her eye then turned away to

get them onto the closest thing to a major road that went to and from

the docks. "You didn't answer me."

'I'm ... okay. No one hurt me." Patryk had touched her, but she sure

as heck wasn't going to explain that to Liz. "I got scared, thought

someone was following me and then I was scared to leave the

warehouse grounds."

"Someone probably was following you, at this time of night, in this

neighborhood." Liz clenched the steering wheel and sighed

exasperatedly. "You told me you would be careful taking this job."

"Can we talk about this later, please? I just want to get home, lock

the door, and call in sick tomorrow." Gillian stared out the window,

refusing to look back towards the water.

"You call in sick? If you do that I'm dragging you to the ER. What

happened?" Liz turned long enough to glare at her.

"I told you, I spooked myself, nothing more." Gillian looked away,

opting for the warehouses over Liz's stare.

63

She managed to avoid interrogation pitfalls until Liz pulled up to

her building.

"This had..."

"It won't Liz, I promise." Gillian leaped out of the car before Liz

could follow through with a diatribe and waved goodbye while

dashing to her apartment building.

Swiping her key in front of the censor, the click sound made up for

all the disturbing noises from earlier. She squeezed through the

entrance and shut it behind her. Leaning against the cool glass, she

waited until she heard Liz sharply pull away, leaving tire tread behind.

Ah, just as expected.

Pushing herself upright, she walked up the three flights of stairs

instead of sealing herself in an elevator shaft. With her apartment

door between her and the outside world, she allowed herself to flop

onto her bed fully clothed and pound the comforter into submission.

She hated being vulnerable, despised it. All her life she was the

one people picked on for being small, or quiet, or the good one, or, or,

or... She was tired too of calling Liz or someone else to get herself

out of a mess that shouldn't exist, wouldn't exist if people were as

scared of her as she was of them. Not even their housecat growing up

was ever scared of her, even if she was vacuuming.

Working into being defiant, she kicked off her sneakers without

undoing the laces. Yes, the world hadn't ended and her toes were a

little freer, but she needed more, much more. Yanking off her coat,

she tossed it in the vague direction of the front closet instead of

properly putting it on a hanger and placing it un-rumpled in the closet.

Her internalized mother and Liz screamed, but that was the worst that

happened. The propriety police didn't bash down her door and the sky

didn't fall on her. She doubted the jacket was capable of being afraid

of her, but she had put it in its place and refused it a hanger.

This had to end. She didn't want to feel like something that went

squish and squawked when stepped on or always scurried into a hole

in the night. There had to be a point in her life when she was the one

with claws and fangs to put a little dread in someone else's life. Not

to permanently traumatize anyone, but couldn't people at least stop

64

pushing her off the sidewalk or apologize to her? Not closing doors in

her face would be a nice start.

Was it so wrong to want the power for once, the feel of being in

control and not stepping out of the way? She could use it for good of

course, most of the time. Not all monsters had to be fully bad.

As if waiting to give her an answer, her door rattled on its hinges

with a rapid fire of knocks.

Gillian crawled off her bed, over her jacket, and stared at the door.

The knocks came again, quicker this time. "I know you're in there

Gillian, open up. Your neighbor was nice enough to let me in. I'd

hate to wake up anyone by knocking for another hour."

Her stomach caved to the floor. Patryk? How? When? Where?

Shut up.
Power had to start somewhere, and didn't magical things

happen in fairy tales when the heroine stared down the monster or

slayed it? This was her apartment. That meant she had to be the

heroine. It was her door, her place, her time.

She forced herself to get off the floor and keep her chin up. There

was no reason she couldn't do this, nothing to hide, nothing to fear.

Making sure her pounding heart didn't show through her stretch top,

she settled her hand on the doorknob and twisted it on the third round

of knocking. Keeping her knees from clamoring into each other, she

faced him with what she hoped was a look of disinterest.

"Patryk, whatever in the world are you doing here?" Did that sound

flippant and at ease? She forced herself to keep the door open and

remain where she was instead of making a dash for the bed and

burrowing under the comforter. God, how could someone look so

sexy and scary at the same time? He exuded confidence and that

always got her, made her want to get closer in hopes it would brush

off on her and give her a leg up in the world.

"I told you that you owed me an answer and I've come to collect."

He walked inside until their chests were resting against each other.

"Do we have to do this with the whole world watching? I've never

been one for an evening soap opera."

Grudgingly she let go of her hold on the door and walked

backwards into her own living room. Okay, she could do this. She

65

had the home turf advantage and she was not going back to being

small and skittish, that was for mice and she was a grown woman with

the curves to prove it.

Flouncing her reddish hair into a wavy mess, she put her hands on

her hips and didn't budge when he slowly closed the door behind him

and walked up to within inches of her chest. She had to kink her head

back to look up into his eyes, but she offset the height difference by

cocking an eyebrow just like she'd seen the nasty girls in high school

do, like Liz did all too often.

Now all that was left for her to do was jump him and show him

who was boss.

Jeez, who was she kidding, could she jump Tarzan and live to get

her next paycheck? Could she jump Tarzan and live through the take

down she'd get in return. The initial romp, all two nanoseconds it

lasted, would be fun but heinously short. Okay she really was sleep

deprived.

"Are you done planning your attack?" Patryk blew her hair away

from her eyes as he spoke.

Gillian flummoxed her stance by dropping her hands and looking at

his chest. She took a few steps back from him, hoping the cleaner air

unsaturated with his musky smell would help her plan better and not

so obviously. "How did you know what I was doing?" Things were

not going as she'd intended. Couldn't he just recoil so she could play

the aggressor?

"People don't lie with their bodies, only their mouths." He sidled

around her and planted himself onto her sofa with his legs casually

splayed open.

She wondered if the sofa would hold up under him first then came

around to realizing she was angry he felt the right to do so. Stomping

like a two-year old, she placed herself between his legs and glowered

down. "I thought this was my house."

"It is and I was sure you were going to remember your manners and

invite me to sit down." He folded his arms over his chest and stared.

"What were you doing at the warehouse?"

66

Leverage, she needed leverage. "I was making sure the drivers

didn't bollocks the shipment going out. It was my first solo gig and I

wanted it to go ahead without problems." Folding her own arms she

squinted. "You calling me a liar?" Sketchy ground she treaded, but

she refused to let someone come into her place and scare her into

saying something untrue. She watched him lick his pink lips and nod