Of Shadow Born (6 page)

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Authors: S. L. Gray

BOOK: Of Shadow Born
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"Someone tried to kill you tonight." He pitched his voice so low that the rumble of his words turned her skin to gooseflesh, as if each letter had a palpable weight. "You don't have to like me but I'm not going away."

And there was the problem: she
did
like him. What she knew of him, which admittedly was next to nothing, and really should have had her examining the inside of her head. Yes, he had some brutish qualities. Yes, barking orders and inviting himself home was annoying, but if he hadn’t been there tonight, would she be alive?

She had to clear her throat and wet her lips to speak. The expression she read in his eyes promised she'd have a fight on her hands if she thought she could dismiss him. And if she listened to the voices in her head, she'd confess she
still didn't want to be alone.

"Nobody stays in my apartment but me. It's private space. Sacred, you understand."

An eyebrow lifted. "Warded?"

"What?"

Kade snorted. "Never mind." Her plan to distract him backfired. He tugged a hand free of a pocket, caught her wrist and pulled her toward the building's stairs. "You've got a new roommate. You should be glad I don't snore."

She jogged up the stairs behind him as he took them two at a time. He let her go when they stood outside her door, watching as she rummaged
the keys from her purse. She slid one into the lock and felt the tumbler snap open. Then she paused, head bowed and gaze on her hands. Was she really going to let him in? Had she lost her mind?

She didn’t believe in magic, but something he
'd done melted the threat away. She briefly considered the idea that this had all been an elaborate performance, meant to convince Melanie to take home the handsome hero for a one-night stand. Noura had been trying to set her up for months, but not even she would go far enough to get Melanie shot.

Oh God. Someone had shot her!

She looked up and found him studying her intently. Heat threatened but didn't make it all the way to her cheeks. "I could call the cops." The warning held no weight.

Kade's shoulders rose and fell. "Could," he agreed. "If you really want
ed to get rid of me. But." He braced his hand against the doorjamb just above her head. Not stopping her. Not trapping her. He leaned into her bubble of personal space but they didn't, quite, touch. "They'll just send someone else."

She was abruptly too aware of the shape of his mouth, the breath tickling her cheek again, the shadow of stubble on his chin. The inappropriate throb of desire. She swallowed hard and pried her gaze away. "Who's they?"

He cracked a faint, one-sided grin. "Invite me in. Pour me a drink. We'll pretend we're friends. I'll answer your questions." He paused, then added, "Please."

Melanie pushed the door open. When he said, "Ladies first," she stepped in.
Please
, her thoughts echoed.
Don't let this be a mistake.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Five

Melanie didn't entertain in her apartment often. Make that ever. These rooms were her sanctuary, an escape from life at the office and the bustle of San Francisco's streets. She wasn't used to having anyone else take up her space and breathe her air.

Certainly no one like Kade.

The living room seemed smaller with him in it, somehow. When she'd found the place, she agreed with the landlord that it was a bargain. She'd seen too many postage-stamp-sized apartments and choked at the rent they asked for supposed luxury. Here, though, she had room to move. The walls didn't feel too close or cramped.

The architect had clearly never met Eric Kade.

Melanie edged around him as he took stock of her belongings, a faint frown painting shadows between his eyebrows. She used the sofa as a barrier between them and cleared her throat.

"Something wrong?"

"I don't know," she answered, curling her fingers into the top of a couch cushion. "You're frowning."

"Thinking." He paused and amended, "Surprised. It's not what I expected."

Melanie's gaze traveled the room. What could possibly be so shocking that he had to comment? The few pieces of art hung straight on the walls. She'd dusted the ceiling fan just yesterday. "What are you seeing that I'm not?"

"You." He sounded
— looked — confused.

All right. So maybe their styles were colliding. He probably decorated with milk crates and build-it-yourself furniture. She liked the sleek, uncluttered lines of a modern look. She liked brushed leather and warm wood. He probably favored plaids and antlers on the wall.

"It
is
my place. Shouldn't it suit me?"

"Yeah. I just expected it to be more buttoned down."

Noura had complained that the place looked antiseptic when she came to visit unexpectedly a few months back. Nothing personal, she said. No character. Melanie had been working on that ever since. Apparently it had worked. Apparently it wasn't as boring as she seemed to be.

"I choose to take that as a compliment.
"

"It was," he agreed. "You're welcome."

She'd take that too, rough edge and all. He didn't seem the sort to flatter easily. Given the night she'd had, she could use every reassurance that she hadn't gone crazy. That things would be okay. That some part of the world was still normal. Home was about as normal as it got.

He stepped
toward the coffee table. Suddenly the sofa barrier didn't seem like enough. He held her gaze while he moved, then sat on the couch, settling beneath her as if she'd invited him to get comfortable. As if they weren't strangers and he hadn't muscled his way into her home. As if she hadn't let him like some kind of fool.

"About this staying thing."

"You won't know I'm here."

Oh yes, she would. "I'm not a roommate kind of person, and if you take over my living room, I promise you, I'll notice." If he was sleeping there
when she got up to make coffee, she'd have to be quiet. She'd have to tiptoe in her own home.

And he didn't have luggage, so would he sleep in his clothes? Or in his shorts? Or in nothing at all?
She might be able to find reasons not to object to that, but she'd have to let him stick around to be sure. That was harder.

Then again, he had been right beside her for the weirdest experience of her life. He'd been trying to help.

He got one night. One. After that, she'd kick him out. She pursed her lips and straightened to march down the short hall leading to the sole bedroom. She stopped at the linen closet, jerking the door open a little harder than strictly necessary.

"The sofa doesn't fold out. You'll have to make it work the way it is. It may be too short," she warned with a
touch of vindictive glee as she wandered back to the living room, a bundle of sheets and one blanket the shield she carried against her chest.

"My knees bend." He'd stretched an arm along the back of the couch, completely taking over.
She stopped at the edge of the room, staring. When the silence went on too long, his expression warmed, faint amusement kindling in his eyes. "Want some help with that?"

Melanie's stomach gave a rebellious hop of recognition. She saw interest in his gaze
among other things. Curiosity. Determination. A hint of the heat that had nearly overwhelmed her and had her craving dark corners before all hell broke loose in the bar.

And that reminded her
. She still didn't know exactly what was going on. "I'm fine, thank you," she said, sounding prim even to her own ears. "You're enjoying this far too much." She dropped the bedclothes beside him and refolded her arms. "So."

"So?" He twisted
on the couch to face her.

"So," she repeated, eyebrow rising. "You were going to tell me about that nonsense in the pub."

The humor bled out of his eyes. For a moment, Melanie wished she could take the words back. She liked the hinted-at smile barely lifting the corners of his mouth, no matter that she'd seen it mostly when he fought not to laugh at her. Amusement made him seem approachable, not the hard-jawed and imposing defender who sat on her couch now.

"You can call it nonsense, if you want. I call it saving your life."

Irritation had changed to worry. Now worry became confusion. Melanie sat on the bundle of blankets beside him, wanting honesty now most of all. "Then they really were trying to shoot me."

Kade shook his head. "Shot you. Would have, anyway."

"If it wasn't for you." Her hand dropped to her abdomen, covering the spot that had cramped so painfully. When she closed her eyes, she remembered the crack of the shot being fired and the sensation of the bullet passing through her. Of his hand pressed hard against her ribs. Her eyes snapped open. "What did you do to me?"

Kade studied her a moment, then rubbed a hand over his face and sat forward, elbows
braced on his knees. "It's complicated."

"Be that as it may, I think I have the right to know. Especially since it's a matter of life and could
have been my death."

"Nobody's going to die," he said. The words were edged and dangerous. They had the weight of a promise.

"How did you know to be there? How did you find me? You said you saw me earlier, but how did you know? I don't go out often enough to be predictable. Dalton's is a favorite place," she allowed, "but we're there at best every other week. If someone's stalking me—"

"You wouldn't know until
it's too late. You'd never see them coming."

"But you would?
" She heard the disbelief in her voice and managed somehow not to grimace when she saw his shoulders tense. "I'm sorry." She took a breath. "I don't mean to offend you, but I'm not sure what’s real and what I made up in some sort of panic. I need—" She reconsidered her words, watching his fingers curl and flex. "I'm asking you to explain. In small words. Please?"

His jaw worked, muscle bunching and relaxing as he chewed an answer. His gaze lifted to hers. He gave a faint nod.

Then sat back. "The men you saw tonight, weren't. Men," he clarified. "They were creatures. Marionettes. If things had gone their way, you'd be dead and they'd have been gone before you hit the floor. No mess, no fight, no screaming and no one to remember seeing them. They make good assassins."

Melanie's blood went cold. It took two tries to make words come out again. "I don't understand. Who'd want to kill me?"

"Everyone's got enemies."

She shook her head slowly. "I don't. I don't know that many people here. I haven't been
in the city long enough. I can't think of anyone I've insulted or hurt in any way."

"Maybe it's not someone you know."

Melanie paused. "Then how could I be any sort of threat? Don't you have to know someone pretty well to want to kill them?" There was another question to regret, judging by the shadow that slid through his gaze. She tilted her head. "Why do I feel like I'm having half a conversation?"

Kade made a low sound that could have been a growl. He certainly moved like a caged animal as he
stood again and headed toward the door. There wasn't a lot of room in here for pacing. He looked like he'd give it a shot anyway. "There's a lot to tell you and not much time." He shoved a hand through his hair again, making pieces stick up here and there. Melanie's fingers itched with the urge to tuck them down. Traitors.

"You work with artifacts, right?" Now he had his hands at his waist, a very superhero pose. Which went we
ll with daring rescues from disappearing men. "Putting them back together."

Melanie shook herself.
Pay attention.
"Restoring them," she corrected, nodded, then frowned. "How did you know?"

Kade went on as if she hadn't asked. "You got a new shipment today, didn't you? Straight out of Egypt. Broken pottery, old linen, that kind of thing."

Melanie narrowed her eyes. "If you're not going to answer, I don't think I want to, either. I don't have to," she insisted. "I haven't done anything wrong."

She had him there. Triumph thrilled through her when whatever he was going to say stuck in his throat. "I'm not accusing you. You got a shipment, right? Broken pottery—"

"And old linen. This is insane. You really have been following me, haven't you? Who are you, Mr. Kade? Really?"

His lips quirked like he might smile, but his expression
didn't warm and the solemnity never left his eyes. He leaned forward from the waist as if to make sure she understood the weight of his answer. "Someone who
really
wants you to put the pieces back together."

She'd been about to point out his skill at being vague when she suddenly
thought she understood. Oh no. Curiosity and confusion were replaced by a pulse of dull anger. Of course. She should have figured him out before now. She'd been warned this might happen while she trained, but she'd never been approached. Not until tonight.

Well. If he thought she was a sell-out, that it would be this easy to get her to ruin her whole career, he had no idea who he was dealing with.

She bit back a rush of fierce words and ignored the flutter of nerves. She stood and brushed past him to unlock and open the door. "Never mind. This is a mistake. I think it's time for you to go."

 

One step forward and two steps back. Kade locked his jaw to keep from grinding his teeth. "We just got here."

"Yes." Melanie's chin dipped enough to give a nod toward polite manners. Other than that, she pretty clearly wasn't in the mood to be friendly any more. "You were very kind to walk me back and see me safely home, but as you can tell, I'm fine now." When he didn't move, she
opened the door even wider. "Good night, Mr. Kade."

They should have sent someone else. Someone who had an inkling of how to deal with people in general and women in particular. Or just this woman. Kade studied her, the stiffness of her posture and her unflinching stare, and he tried, really tried, to
swallow his temper. If she wasn't going to listen, how was he supposed to help?

He didn't work with a partner and he didn't want this case. If only he could convince himself he didn't care what happened to her. He exhaled a breath of laughter. "Suit yourself."

Her lips thinned as if he'd insulted her. Hell, maybe he had, but it wasn't by intent. "I don't see what's so funny." Her chin lifted higher.

"And I don't
know what I did wrong." Kade spread his hands like a shrug. "What'd I say that's got your back arched up like a pissed-off cat? You wanted answers."

"I got them," she said crisply. "I should have known before I asked." She straightened her shoulders. He hadn't noticed the slouch or thought she could possibly hold herself tighter. "I'm not interested in selling to you
, Mr. Kade. I'm being polite and not calling the police. Take the out you've been offered and go. Please," she added with the hint of a smile that looked like it must hurt.

"Selling?" She'd confused him again. "The artifacts?"

Another nod. "I don't deal in black-market goods. Just talking to a man like you puts my job in jeopardy."

"A man like me."

"A broker." She said the word like she'd tasted rotten eggs.

Now it was Kade's turn to take offense. "I'm not here to buy anything." He could feel the skin between his eyebrows crease
again. "What you have isn't for sale. I want them put back together. I represent a lot of people who do, but I'm not a broker and I'm not a thief. If I was that kind of man, I wouldn't have bothered saving your life."

"Wouldn't you? It'd be a good way to get me to trust you."

"So I could screw you over again? I can be an asshole, but I'm not that bad."

"But that's the
point. I don't know you. You turn up out of the blue, play hero, and now I'm just supposed to, what? Let you run my life? Do you have references? A business card, at least?"

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