Silence (22 page)

Jev cut the engine. “What were you doing back there?” His volume was low, his tone furious.

“Climbing the fire escape, what did it look like?” I shot back. My pants were torn, my knees were scuffed, my hands were scraped, and getting angry was the only thing stopping me from bursting into tears.

“Well, congratulations, you climbed it. And nearly got yourself killed. Don’t tell me you were there by coincidence. Nobody hangs out in that neighborhood after dark. And that was a Nephilim safe house you barged into, so again, I’m not buying that it was by accident. Who told you to go there?”

I blinked. “A Nephilim safe house?”

“You’re going to play dumb?” He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

“I thought the building was vacant. I thought the building next to it was the Nephilim warehouse.”

“Both are owned by a Nephil—a very powerful Nephil. One is a decoy and the other sleeps about four hundred Nephilim on any given night. Guess which one you walked into?”

A decoy. How smart of Hank. Too bad I hadn’t thought of it twenty minutes ago. He’d have the entire operation relocated by tomorrow morning, and I’d lose my only lead. At least now I knew what he was hiding. The warehouse was the sleeping quarters for at least a portion of his Nephilim army.

“I thought I told you to stop looking for trouble. I thought I told you to try normal for a while,” Jev said.

“Normal didn’t last very long. Right after I last saw you, I bumped into an old friend. An old Nephil friend.” I’d let the words fly out without thinking, but I didn’t see the harm in telling Jev about Scott. After all, Jev had taken my side when I’d argued with Gabe to release B.J., so he couldn’t hate Nephilim the way Gabe clearly did.

Jev’s eyes hardened. “What Nephil friend?”

“I don’t have to answer that.”

“Forget it. I already know. The only Nephil you’d be gullible enough to call a friend is Scott Parnell.”

I wasn’t fast enough to hide my surprise. “You know Scott?”

Jev didn’t answer. But I could tell by the quiet, killer look in his eyes that he didn’t think highly of Scott. “Where’s he staying?” he asked.

I thought of the cave, and how I’d promised Scott I wouldn’t tell anyone. “He—didn’t tell me. I bumped into him when I was out running. It was a brief conversation. We didn’t even have time to exchange phone numbers.”

“Where were you running?”

“Downtown,” I lied easily. “He stepped out of a restaurant as I was passing and recognized me, and we talked for a minute.”

“You’re lying. Scott wouldn’t be out in the open like that, not when the Black Hand has a price on his head. I’m betting you
saw him somewhere more remote. The woods by your house?” he guessed.

“How do you know where I live?” I asked nervously.

“You’ve got an untrustworthy Nephil shadowing you. If you’re going to worry about something, worry about that.”

“Untrustworthy? He filled me in on Nephilim and fallen angels, which is more than I can say about you!” I gathered my cool. I didn’t want to talk about Scott. I wanted to talk about
us
and force Jev to open up on our past connection. I’d been fantasizing about seeing him for days, and now that I had what I wanted, I wasn’t about to let him slip away again. I needed to know who he’d been to me.

“And what did he tell you? That he’s the victim? That fallen angels are the bad guys? He can blame fallen angels for the existence of his race, but he isn’t a victim and he isn’t harmless. If he’s hanging around, it’s because he needs something from you. Everything else is a pretense.”

“Funny you should say that, since he hasn’t asked me for a single favor. So far, it’s been all about me. He’s trying to help me get my memory back. Don’t look so surprised. Just because you’re a closed-off jerk doesn’t mean the rest of the world is too. After shedding light on Nephilim and fallen angels, he told me Hank Millar is building an underground Nephilim army. Maybe that name means nothing to you, but it means a lot to me, since Hank is dating my mom.”

The scowl faded from his face. “What did you just say?” he asked in a genuinely menacing voice.

“I called you a closed-off jerk, and I meant every word.”

He narrowed his gaze beyond the window, clearly thinking, and I got the distinct impression he’d found something I’d said important. A muscle in his jaw clenched, a dark and frightening look bringing a cold edge to his eyes. Even from where I sat, I sensed the tightening of his body, a current of underlying emotion—none of it good—flexing under his skin.

“How many people have you told about me?” he asked.

“What makes you think I’ve told anyone about you?”

His eyes pinned me in place. “Does your mom know?”

I debated another snide comment, but was too exhausted to put in the effort. “I might have mentioned your name, but she didn’t recognize it. So we’re back at square one. How
do
I know you, Jev?”

“If I asked you do to something for me, I don’t suppose you’d listen?” When he had my attention, he continued, “I’m going to take you home. Try to forget tonight happened. Try to act normal, especially around Hank. Don’t mention my name.”

By way of an answer, I shot him a black look and swung out of the Tahoe. He followed suit, coming around to my side.

“What kind of answer is that?” he asked, but his voice wasn’t nearly so gruff.

I stalked away from the Tahoe, in case he thought he could use force to stuff me back into the car. “I’m not going home. Not yet.
Ever since the night you saved me from Gabe, I’ve been thinking of all the ways I could run into you again. I’ve spent way too much time speculating how you knew me before, how you knew me at all. I might not remember you or anything else from the past five months, but I can still
feel
, Jev. And when I first saw you the other night, I felt something that I’ve never felt before. I couldn’t look at you and breathe at the same time. What does that mean? Why don’t you want me to remember you? Who
were
you to me?”

At that, I stopped walking and turned back to face him. His eyes were dilated to full black, and I suspected all kinds of emotion hid there. Regret, torment, wariness.

“The other night, why did you call me Angel?” I asked.

“If I were thinking straight, I’d take you home right now,” he said quietly.

“But?”

“But I’m tempted to do something I’ll probably regret.”

“Tell me the truth?” I hoped.

Those black eyes flicked over me. “First I need to get you off the streets. Hank’s men can’t be far behind.”

A
S IF ON CUE, THE SCREECH OF TIRES RANG OUT BEHIND
us. Hank would be proud; his men didn’t give up easily. Jev yanked me behind a crumbling brick wall. “We can’t outrun them to the Tahoe, and even if we could, I’m not dragging you into a car chase with Nephilim. They’ll walk away from a rolled or totaled car, but you might not. Better to take our chances on foot and circle back to the car after they’ve given up. There’s a nightclub a block from here. Not the cleanest place, but we can
hide there.” He took my elbow, propelling me forward.

“If Hank’s men check the club, and they’d be stupid not to since they’ll see the Tahoe and know we’re on foot, they’ll recognize me. The lights in the warehouse were on for a full five seconds before you dragged me out. Someone in that room had to have gotten a good look at me. I can try to hide in the bathroom, but if they start asking around, I won’t stay hidden long.”

“The warehouse you broke into is for new recruits. Sixteen or seventeen in human years and newly sworn, making them less than one in Nephilim years. I’m stronger than they are, and I’ve had a lot more practice when it comes to toying with minds. I’m going to put a trance on you. If they look at us, they’re going to see a guy in black leather chaps with a spiked choker, and a platinum blond girl in a corset and combat boots.”

Suddenly I felt a little light in the head. A trance. Was that how the mind-tricks worked? By enchantment?

Jev tipped my chin up, searching my eyes. “Do you trust me?”

Whether or not I trusted him didn’t matter. The hard truth was, I had to. The alternative was facing down Hank’s men alone, and I could guess how that would end.

I nodded.

“Good. Keep walking.”

I followed Jev into a retired factory that now served as Bloody Mary’s nightclub, and he handled the cover charge. It took my eyes a moment to adjust to the strobe light pulsing my vision between
black and white. The interior walls had been knocked down, allowing for open space that at the moment was crammed with gyrating bodies. Ventilation was poor, and I was immediately hit by a wave of body odor mingled with perfume, cigarette smoke, and vomit. The clientele was a good fifteen years older than me, and I was the only person dressed in cords and sporting a ponytail, but Jev’s mind-tricks must have been working, because amid the sea of chains, leather, spikes, and fishnets, no one batted an eye in my direction.

We fought our way to the center of the crowd, where we could hide and still keep watch on the doors.

“Plan A is to stay here and wait them out,” Jev yelled at me over the throb of music. “Eventually they’ll have to give up and go back to the warehouse.”

“And plan B?”

“If they follow us in here, we’ll leave through the back exit.”

“How do you know there’s a back exit?”

“I’ve been here before. Not my top choice, but it’s a favorite when it comes to my kind.”

I didn’t want to think about what his kind was. Right now, I didn’t want to think about anything but making it home alive.

I glanced around. “I thought you said you could mind-trick everyone. So why do I get the feeling people are staring?”

“We’re the only two people in the room not dancing.”

Dancing. Men and women who bore an impressive resemblance
to Kiss band members were head-banging, shoving, and licking each other. A guy with chain suspenders holding up his jeans climbed a ladder affixed to the wall and hurled himself into the crowd.
To each his own,
I thought.

“May I have this dance?” Jev asked with a sympathetic tug of his mouth.

“Shouldn’t we be finding a way out of here? Devising a couple more backup plans?”

He clasped my right hand, drawing me against him in a slow dance that was at odds with the racing music. As if reading my mind, he said, “They’ll stop staring soon. They’re too busy competing for most extreme dance move of the night. Try to relax. Sometimes the best offense is a good defense.”

My heart rate picked up then, and not because I knew Hank’s men had to be close by. Dancing this way with Jev tore down any chance I had at holding my feelings in check. His arms were strong, his body warm. He wasn’t wearing cologne, but there was an intriguing hint of fresh-cut grass and rainwater when he pulled me close. And those eyes. Deep, mysterious, unfathomable. Despite everything, I wanted to lean into him and … just let go.

“Better,” he murmured into my ear.

Before I could respond, he spun me out. I’d never danced like this before, and Jev’s skill at it surprised me. Street dancing I might have guessed, but not this. The way he danced reminded me of another time and place. He was confident and elegant … smooth and sexy.

“Do you think they’re going to buy that a guy in tacky leather chaps dances like this?” I scoffed when he twirled me back into his embrace.

“Keep it up, and I’ll put
you
in the chaps.” He didn’t smile, but I sensed an undercurrent of amusement. Glad one of us found something about the situation remotely funny.

“How do the trances work? Like a glamour?”

“It’s more complicated than that, but same end result.”

“Could you teach me?”

“If I taught you everything I know, we’d need a considerable amount of time alone together.”

Unsure if he was suggesting anything, I said, “I’m sure we could keep it … professional.”

“Speak for yourself,” he said in that same steady tone that made it hard to guess his intentions.

His hand was on my back, holding me against him, and I realized I was more nervous than I’d originally thought. I found myself wondering if the connection between us had been this electric before. Had being near him always felt like playing with fire? Warm and bright, intense and dangerous?

To keep our conversation from treading further into uncomfortable territory, I laid my head against his chest, even though I knew it wasn’t safe. Nothing about him felt safe. My entire body hummed under his touch, a completely foreign and riveting sensation. The sensible part of me wanted to dissect my emotions,
overthinking and overcomplicating my reaction to Jev. But a more physical and immediate part was tired of allowing logic to chase me in circles, constantly wondering about that gap in time, and just like that, I shut off the switch to my brain.

Piece by piece, I let Jev break down my defenses. I swayed and dipped against him, letting him set the rhythm. I was overly warm, my head clogged with smoke, and the moment began to feel unreal, only making it easier to believe that later, if guilt or regret haunted me, I could pretend it never happened. While I was here, trapped in the club, trapped in Jev’s eyes, he made it too easy to succumb.

His mouth grazed my ear. “What are you thinking?”

I closed my eyes briefly, drowning in sensation.
How warm I feel. How incredibly alive and vibrant and heedless every last inch of me feels next to you.

His mouth twisted into a perceptive, sexy smile. “Hmm.”

“Hmm?” I looked away, flustered, automatically using irritation to cover my discomfort up. “What does ‘hmm’ have to do with anything? Could you ever use more than five words? All this grunting and minced words make you come across—primal.”

His smile tipped higher. “Primal.”

“You’re impossible.”

“Me Jev, you Nora.”

“
Stop
it.” But I nearly smiled in spite of myself.

“Since we’re keeping it primal, you smell good,” he observed. He moved closer, making me acutely aware of his size, the rise and
fall of his chest, the warm burn of his skin on mine. Electricity tingled along my scalp, and I shuddered with pleasure.