Page 4 of Darkest Kiss

She laughs like it’s the biggest joke. Marc studies his bread plate like it owes him money.

Maybe I should run off. It would certainly shut her up for once.

"Here I am," I say. I drop back into the booth.

Dinner ends the way it always does with my family, fast and without ceremony the second Kathleen decides it's over. No check comes. Marc doesn't ask for one, Sherrie doesn't bring one. We started coming here a few months ago and I don’t think we’ve paid the bill once.

The burst of cold is immediate when I step outside. I tug my jacket closed, looking around. Half a block down, in the gap between the shuttered dry cleaner and the empty building next door, he stands.

My follower, blond and big and still as a held breath. My whole body tingles again.

Uncle Marc sees me staring and follows my gaze. “Do you know that man, Noemi?”

“No.” My lips curve up. “But he seems intriguing.”

“Noemi!” Kathleen hisses, her hand closing around my arm. "You will do no such thing. He could be a serial killer for all you know. You see him, you go the other way. You don't speak to him, you don't look at him, you cross the street."

"Funny." Heat climbs into my voice and surprises even me. "You spent a whole dinner telling me I'm too fragile to host a book club in my own store. You threatened me with the psychiatric unit. Now you’re saying that I should be afraid of every man I see on the street. What aren’t you telling me?”

Something moves across Kathleen's face in a way I’ve never seen before. The look she gives me is cold and calculating. “You don’t know what you’re asking for, little girl.”

I yank out of her grasp. “Or maybe you’re worried that I do know.”

Marc's hand lands on her shoulder. "Kathleen." Quiet, a warning of his own. He tips his chin past me, down the block, and when I follow it, the blond man is nearer than he has ever let himself come. He's crossed from the dry cleaner to the lip of the streetlight's dead zone, close enough now that I could pick him out of a crowd.

His eyes are light, blue or green, and they’re fixed on me with such intensity that I shiver. He’s perhaps a few years older than me. And he’s so handsome that making eye contact with him knocks the breath from my lungs.

Kathleen releases my arm. The smile clicks back into place. "We worry, is all. Get home safe, Noemi. Text me the second you're through the door."

She kisses the air beside my cheek and steers Marc off toward their car. I stand on the freezing sidewalk wondering what the hell just happened. I’ve never seen my aunt lose interest in a fight like that.

What the hell is going on?

Distracted by watching my aunt and uncle disappear, I miss the moment when my follower melts back into the shadows. When I turn back and find him gone, I huff.

There goes my chance to stroll on over and ask him what he wants.

Hugging myself, I point myself toward my apartment and start walking. Somewhere in the first block two decisions settle in and refuse to be argued out.

I'm going to find out what my aunt and uncle were really saying back there.

Chapter Two

Rian

"This is your third kill this month." Ransom doesn't scowl exactly, but he doesn't look pleased as he navigates our Range Rover across the intersection, coming to a smooth stop at the curb on the other side. His dark hair is still wet from the shower because he raced over to meet me when I sent him an SOS text.

Ransom is the boss of our crew. On paper, his bespoke suits and signature Rolls Royce Wraith scream private equity. Off paper, he’s the head of the King crew, our little organization that’s definitely not mafia. He’s clever, cunning, and also maybe a legit psychopath.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “I’ll make this one fast.”

Ransom is used to issuing demands and dropping bodies, not chauffeuring his surveillance guy around. But everything has been flipped on its head in the few months since the crew arrived in New York City.

He eyes the mask that I’m clutching. “I swear to god, Rian. You’ve really got to get your urges under control. And that’s coming from the guy who burned down a whole shopping center because the owner pissed me off.”

"I know." I start to open the door, but he stops me by pressing the child locks.

"Rian. Look at me." Stifling a sigh, I do. All I want is to get out of this Rolls Royce Wraith and start my hunt, but Ransom often acts as the voice of reason. Sometimes I can't hear it over the sound of Beast calling for someone's blood.