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“Heard there’s a rogue engine on the loose.”
This could not be happening.
Slowly, Shay turned around to face Roman Devlin, who looked all kinds of pissed—and all kinds of stupidly attractive in his tattered gray jeans, black combat boots, and a baggy, heavy metal band shirt with the sleeves ripped at his shoulders.
With a swallow, Shay forced herself to look at his face—at that pissed-off expression that spelled murder.
Roman drawled, “Wonder why that could be.”
She lifted her chin. “How big a raise did you give your employees to steal my engine?” This mechanic shop was on neutral ground; she’d thought it would be safe to be towed here, but it seemed Roman had spread his shadows beyond the Gray Zone.
Why did that not surprise her?
She had royally screwed up by choosing to steal from him. Anyone else—literally anyone—and she guaranteed she wouldn’t be in this mess right now. But this man—this absolutely infuriating Darkslayer—was relentless. He just wouldn’t let it go, would he?
He made a sound of disapproval. “Oh, I can’t give them the credit for that. That was all me, pup.”
Her cheeks splotched with anger. “You son of a bitch.”
Roman’s frown deepened into something very deadly. Was it just her, or did the gold in his irises darken right before her eyes? Even the warm cast to his tousled dark hair was suddenly absent.
Was it the fluorescents? Was it the sunlight streaming in through the window that was in dire need of washing?
Roman said, “Where’s my necklace?”
She scoffed. “You think I’m going to give it to you after this?”
“Where’s my necklace?”
“What are you, a parrot? I need my car so I can find my sister.”
A moment of silence. And then, “Fine.”
Shay blinked. “Really?”
“Sure. I’ll trade you: your engine for my necklace.”
She bared her teeth at him, the spark of hope in her chest doused by the ice-cold waters of this perpetual raincloud. That’s what Roman was: a raincloud, darkening her life everywhere he went with his sour mood, eye-twitch, and silly ripped clothes.
“You’re a big stupid-head!” she snapped.
“That’s creative.” His humorless snicker confirmed Shay’s suspicions that he didn’t know how to laugh. “Deal or no deal?”
“No deal,” she said, talking over him. “How about this?” She crossed her arms and tipped her weight to one leg. “You help me find my sister, and then you can have your necklace back.” He didn’t bat an eye at her mention of her sister; every Darkslayer house in Yveswich knew she was missing now, no thanks to anyone but Shay.
Of course, Athene was trying her hardest to cover it up, but, much to her extreme disappointment and anger, her least favorite daughter had decided to staple missing person posters all over the city, drawing attention to the problem her mother should’ve acknowledged weeks ago.
Anna had been abducted—of that, Shay had no doubt. She needed help, and it seemed the only one who was willing to give it was Shay. She wouldn’t let her down—and she definitely wouldn’t let this brooding, idiotic Darkslayer get in her way.
That Darkslayer was staring at her. “Fine,” Roman bit out.
And then he turned and walked out the door, the keys that were carelessly half-stuffed into the front pocket of his jeans jingling.
Shay blinked. What?
She pushed through the door and ran after him, bells clanging as they thwacked against the glass. The sun beat down on her head, sending a flush of heat through her body. Despite the warm spell, there were storm clouds brewing on the horizon. Not surprising. The cold always won in Yveswich.
“Where are you going?” she called.
