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“Downstairs.”
She shook her head and turned to face him.
“Can you bring them up.” It wasn’t a request. She wanted her clothes. It was after ten in the morning and she was in Cedar Creek—oh hell, how was she going to get back to the city? She hadn’t driven here. He had! Then she remembered taxis. Thank God for taxis. They went everywhere.
“Soon.”
“What?” She tugged at the robe. The thing was coming undone again. “Why?” Vivienne swallowed and faced him. “Look, Conall—um—last night—I don’t—I’m not like that—don’t—I don’t do things like this so….” She cleared her throat and looked back to the rumpled sheets of the bed. “I just need my clothes and your address so I can call a cab, and you’ll never see me again.”
His fingers caught her chin and he forced her look at him. His expression was serious.
“I know what you are and are not, Vivienne, and I have every intention of seeing you again.” She opened her lips to protest but his finger touched them, silencing her as a vivid image from last night replayed in her mind and sent her to all shades of red in the span of a few seconds.
He chuckled as if he knew what she was thinking. She pushed his hand away and walked to the other side of the room.
“Take a shower. When you’re finished, your clothes and bag will be here.” Turning to glare at him, she saw the upward tilt of his lips. “Are you hungry?”
“No.” She was.
“Come down after you’re dressed.”
Vivienne gave a quick shake of her head, feeling her curls bounce around her face. “What’s your address?”
“Come down and I’ll tell you.”
Vivienne scoffed and rolled her eyes. He smiled and turned to leave.
“You know, some people would call this kidnapping, Mr. Athelwulf.”
Slowly, he turned to face her. “Some people would, Vivienne….” She opened her mouth to speak but he effectively cut her off. “But not you.”
Her scowl was back in place as he grinned and walked from the room.
***
What was that?
Drew groaned, rolled over, sat up, and placed both of her hands over her eyes. The sound came again, the sound of something shattering. Was that glass? She immediately went on guard.
She looked at the time. It was after ten, so both Viv and Max were at work. The only reason she was still home was because it was Thursday and on some Thursdays and Fridays the gallery opened at noon. She sat still, and listened. Someone was moving around in Vivienne’s bedroom. Slowly, she came off the bed and reached under it for her baseball bat. Clutching it to her stomach, she silently crept to Vivienne’s bedroom.
When she stood before the opened door, the sight that greeted her wrung an involuntary scream from her lips. Feathers, glass, rumpled sheets, piles of clothes. Someone was definitely in their apartment! A curse reached her ears and as fear held her rooted to the entrance of Vivienne’s room, a glass vase was suddenly thrown from some hidden part of the bedroom. She watched as it spiraled upward, spinning before coming down to the ground in a loud crash. Glass exploded in all directions, and a piece nicked at her lower leg.
The slight pain forced her into action. Drew turned and ran, praying she got out of the apartment before whichever psycho was in there caught her. She opened the door and ran down the hallway, screaming as she did so. She’d never been so terrified in her life.
She’d just arrived at the ground floor when someone caught her. Drew tried to pull away, but the person enveloped her in warm arms. She focused on his face and relaxed. Max. His hair was slicked back, his face serious. She didn’t think to ask why he wasn’t at work; she was simply glad he was there. Collapsing against his chest, she breathed frantically and gasped out, “Max, someone’s upstairs. In Vivienne’s room.”
He didn’t react as she expected. Instead, a frightening stillness came over him. He easily set her away from him. “Wait here.”
“No! Max, it’s too dangerous. Let’s just call the police. Oh God, Vivienne left for work this morning, didn’t she?” Drew’s eyes widened. “She wasn’t here, was she? She’s at work, right?”
He nodded and then he was running toward the staircase, his boots slapping against the linoleum floor. Drew stared after him, feeling her unease grow. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust that Max could hold his own against a thief: she knew he could. Max knew karate, and some other martial arts, but still she worried. What if there was more than one? And no doubt, they had guns! Panic set in. Max couldn’t dodge bullets like Neo in The Matrix. This was real life, not some Keanu Reeves movie.
