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Head bowed, she yanked open the door and froze.
Heavy, military-style filled her vision. Mud had dried along their edges, and she noticed bits of dried debris on the faded beige carpet. They weren’t Logan’s boots.
She swallowed and her gaze rose slowly, past long, muscular legs, a broad chest, and wide shoulders, until she rested her eyes on a man she’d never met before. She gulped back a pang of fear and froze.
He was a dangerous, lethal sort. She could tell. It was in his ice-blue eyes, aristocratic chin, and nose. His full mouth was pursed as if he was annoyed, and his brows were furrowed. His hair was thick and black, shot through with bits of silver. He pushed a long piece away from his face impatiently, his expression darkening even more, and Kira hoped he didn’t know how scared she was.
He was the man in black from the square. He was twice her size and there was no way Kira could get around him.
“Who are you?” he said harshly, his cell phone in hand while Logan’s still rang in hers. He hit a button and the sound stopped, leaving them with nothing but a dangerous silence between them.
Kira’s gut roiled but she refused to look away. Logan had taught her a few things and she knew she couldn’t show weakness. Even though she wanted to slam the door shut and hide, she squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye.
“Who the hell are you?” she answered instead, hoping the tremor that laced her words wasn’t too evident.
He studied her for a few moments, his steely eyes never wavering. He nodded to the cell in her hand. “That’s not yours.”
She shrugged. “No, it’s not.”
He leaned his shoulder against the door frame and Kira had to move back an inch or so. As well as being dangerous, this stranger was an arrogant son of a bitch. “Where is he?” Brow arched, he waited for her answer, but she wasn’t fooled. He was neither relaxed nor friendly.
Alarm rifled through her, but before she could react, the man pushed away from the door, his long limbs unfolding with surprising grace and a whole lot of strength. She stumbled backward and swore softly as it closed behind him.
Kira tried like hell to control her erratic breathing, but it was hard. She was scared. Rattled. And—as she gazed around the empty room—alone with a man who could tear her apart before she even opened her mouth to scream. The problem was, she didn’t know if he was friend or foe. Was he part of the league? Was he connected somehow to Logan and his friend Bill?
She’d met him once—Bill, an original seraphim and head of the league of guardians—and Logan trusted him. Apparently the only reason she was alive was because of Bill—because he’d ordered Logan to retrieve her from the gray realm.
The stranger pocketed his phone and glanced behind her, at the bed with its tumbled sheets, at the pillows strewn across them. The mess said lovemaking loud and clear. His nostrils flared and his gaze swung back to her, his eyes slowly traveling from the top of her head to the bottom of her boot-clad toes. She knew what he was thinking and she raised her chin.
“I’m not going to ask again. I need to find Logan.” His voice was subdued, but there was a hard glint in his eyes.
She arched a brow and carefully tugged the edge of her jacket sleeves so that her wrists were covered. The scars there were too personal … too painful for anyone but Logan to see. Where are you?
For the moment she didn’t sense danger, but in this world where nothing was as it seemed, she knew things could change in a heartbeat. There was a knife in her bag, a charmed dagger Logan had given her. He’d told her to always keep it on her body because she’d never know when it would come in handy. Smart words. Too bad she’d not listened.
“I don’t know—”
“Cut the crap.” He spoke with some kind of accent, one she couldn’t place. For a second her gaze ran over him. She noticed how long and elegant his fingers were. It was unexpected, when paired with the powerfully intimidating figure he presented.
She narrowed her eyes, the bag now loose in her hands, having slid from her shoulder. “I’ll give him a message.” There was no point lying; the man knew Logan had been here, and for the first time real fear seeped into her bones. Something was off. Really wrong.
The stranger ran fingers through the long strands of hair at his nape and swore, something unintelligible. But it was a curse. There was no mistaking his anger, or the tense set to his features.
“How long has he been missing?” he asked harshly.
“Missing?” Alarm filled her eyes. “He went for food …” Oh God. She fell silent and stared at the stranger.
“Fuck.”
He grabbed his cell and turned slightly. He waited a few moments. She slid her hand inside the bag and felt the cold, hard blade, but she froze when he spoke.
“Cale, it’s me.”
A pause.
“I’m here, he’s not.” The man’s eyebrows lifted as he glanced at her once more and she thought that maybe they’d softened a bit. “Yeah, she’s safe for the moment.” He nodded and then pocketed his cell phone without saying another word.
For a few moments neither spoke, and then he tipped his head toward the bag in her hands. “Save it. I’m not the enemy.” His hand reached for the door. “We have to go.”
