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I would've ignored it, but then I noticed the pair of big brown eyes watching the airplane from the third story window. It was a young woman with her hair up in a messy, dark brown bun. She was just peeking out, so all I could see was the view from her eyes up, but for some reason it made me go back to see where the airplane was.
What kind of person throws paper airplanes out of their windows down to busy, crowded streets? If she thought the night was going to give her cover, she was forgetting the blazing neon sign across the street from her apartment that was bathing her entire face in pale blue light.
An unsavory looking man ended up catching the airplane in the side of his head. He picked it up, looked toward her window, and seemed to spot her.
She ducked as soon as he saw her, but the guy was already set. He was rushing across the street for her apartment.
And it was none of my damn problem. Not a single bit of my goddamn problem.
Except I bent to pick up the airplane, which the guy appeared to have been reading something from. Sure enough, there was a sappy love poem in girlish handwriting and pink gel pen, complete with a final line that said exactly where to find Miss Casanova up there.
Jesus Christ.
I seriously considered leaving her to her fate. It would be natural selection. Anybody that stupid had it coming, after all.
But I looked at the sleazebag hurrying toward her apartment like a dog with a bone and couldn't help myself. I did a lot of swearing under my breath, but I followed after him.
The building smelled worse than the street outside, which was almost impressive. I jogged up the stairs to the scents of boiled cabbage and well-seasoned gym socks. The peeling yellow paint on the wall even felt sticky, for some reason, so I stopped running my fingertips along it like an idiot.
Thanks to the genius on the third floor, I knew exactly where to find her apartment and the creep from outside. Third floor, apartment 12b. Ideally, I'd just be able to drag the guy away and avoid having to interact with the woman. The last thing I needed was to make some girl cry when all I'd wanted to do was get out, clear my head, and get back to eating burritos in peace.
The guy was short, but that wasn't saying much. I usually stood above most people, anyway. Still, it only took one look to know I could've picked him up like a suitcase and carried him outside if I wanted. Being a well-trained diplomat, I started with a more subtle approach.
He was currently banging on her door. "You in there, sweetheart?" he asked in a far too breathy, ball-clenchingly gross voice.
"Okay," I said easily. "You can walk out on your own, or I can help you take the elevator."
The man hadn't noticed me, but he turned now to regard me. He was balding with eyes that weren't quite positioned at the same height on his face. No. That was being too generous. His face was about as put together as a jigsaw puzzle after a toddler gave it a go. He pointed toward the stairs. "There's only stairs. No elevator."
I pointed to the window. "I'll crank it open and you won't know the difference till you hit the ground. I promise."
He went a little red. "Look, pal. Just get lost, okay? I know this girl."
"That's why she's not opening the door, right?"
He gestured to me. "Why don't you go to a bar and pick up some model, asshole? You're seriously cock blocking me right now, so fuck off."
There were all sorts of regulations, rules, and penalties for people like me. In fact, we could be dragged before the high pack and dismembered for even telling a human about our existence.
But I also only kind of gave a shit, and I knew nobody would believe him. So I met his eyes and then gave the wolf inside me a gentle urging. Soft heat spread inside my eyes, and the world momentarily snapped into high resolution. I could see clearly enough to pick up the subtle thumping of his heart against his chest, neck, and major veins. It went from slightly elevated, to fight or flight levels as soon as he saw my eyes.
"Elevator, or stairs?" I asked again.
He stumble-ran past me, nearly falling down the stairs from the sounds of it.
"He's gone," I said, leaning into the door. I hadn't even had time to take a step away from the door when it yanked open and something hard collided with my head.
I was a sturdy bastard. I had supernatural abilities to heal more quickly and endure more punishment than any human could've dreamed of. But my head was ringing when I looked up and saw the small woman with a fucking metal baseball bat revving up for another swing.
