Once the crowd passes, he pulls me down toward the opening, taking in the damage. There’s only darkness; the full moon overhead is our guiding light. The theater lights are shot out, and the ticket booth window is closed behind a thick metal screen. A few bodies lay on the cement, snow packed from the rush, but no one moves.
I don’t see Reese.
Withdrawing his gun, he hands me his knife. “When we get home, we’re going to have a conversation,” he warns.
He glances behind us, and over his shoulder, a spark of silver moves in the shadows. My hands react, pulling the gun from my side, ripping a stitch with it. Leveling it on his shoulder, he stills and becomes the perfect stand.
Two bullets fire, soaring through the dark. My gun kicks back at the wrist, but I brace, expecting it. A gasp fills the air, and thepat-patof metal hitting flesh, before there’s a heavy thud. Whoever it was didn’t get their shot off, falling back into the snow like the trampled innocents.
Blessed silence.
Until the Reaper grabs my face, pressing our foreheads together.
“Alongconversation,” he threatens. “Starting with what the fuck this was.”
Nodding, my shoulders drop. That’s fair. Besides, my plan might not have gone exactly how I wanted—I had questions that needed to be answered—but my suspicions were confirmed.
Reese Silva is in bed with the Board. I don’t know how; I don’t know why, but I’ve been seeing the enemy without ever knowing it.
21
MAEVE
“You’re fucking bleeding again,” he growls, fresh on my heels.
The car ride went as expected. Tense, full of silence, and his hand on my thigh. I removed it repeatedly—might have thrown in a few threats—but by the third time, he pulled over, wrapped his fist in the seatbelt, and tied me to it.
A bit overkill, but his point was made. I wasn’t going anywhere without him. No one else was touching me. Not anymore.
Looking to my side, fresh dark blood stains my dark blouse. Probably not the best idea to put my gun next to my wound, but it’s where I’m most comfortable.
He lifts my shirt, fingers cold, and I shiver. But it’s not from the temperature, but his fury that seems to wrap around me like an overprotective hug. That anger would level buildings if he wanted—and it’s directed at me.
“You pulled a stitch.”
“I saved your life,” I counter. “Remember? Gun. Bullet. You didn’t see him.”
“Maybe if I knew what I was looking for,” he snaps, tugging me close, finger curling into my skirt. It stays there, our bodies pressed intimately together, and his familiar scent surrounds me. “And I didn’t spend most of the night looking for you; I wouldn’t have needed you to save my life.”
“Howdidyou find me?” I raise an eyebrow. “Are you tracking me?”
He smirks. Slipping my phone from my coat pocket, he waves it into the air. “You should know better than to ask that. Your brother is a tech genius. Of course I am.”
Un-fucking-real.
“Now,” he drawls, sliding a foot between mine. Every curve of my body is cushioned by his hard muscles. My throat bobs. “Explain. What happened back there?”
My jaw audibly snaps shut. I don’t want to admit my stupidity—not to Killian. That the man I met at a random coffee shop, who seemed disarmingly sweet and kind, whom I ran background checks on, was connected to the Board. The same people who wanted to kill me planted a guy in my life.
Why? To get information? That was a fucking idiotic joke. I never told Reese anything.
To kill me? That would be a better option. But he never tried—he didn’t even kiss me. How was he supposed to get close enough to end my life?
None of it made sense. What was the angle?
“Ace!”
Killian growls, and I exhale, relief exploding in my chest. Hayes shuffles down the hall, and it’s only then I notice the absolute chaos that’s happening in my house.
