He frowned. “That would be a wise choice.”
Her hand was on the door. She needed to get out of that room.
“How can I reach you?” he said. “I’d like to show you the new Manhattan.”
“The gallery. Like always.”
“I don’t want to talk to Harriet. I want to see you again.”
Rowan inwardly cursed. The look in Michael’s eyes was one she’d seen before. He was looking at something he wanted, wanted so badly he was willing to do something violent to get it.
She should have stayed dead.
“Now is not a good time.” She cleared her throat to hide the crack in her voice.
He didn’t look happy, but he nodded his head, his eyes turning as hard and cold as ice. “Be careful, Rowan. I’d hate for your next death to be the real thing.”
Chapter Twelve
She’d lied. Nick knew Rowan had lied and he knew why. She’d gone to see this Verinetti guy, risking her pride and maybe her safety to find out what she wanted to know. And she was doing it for those kids. The moment he saw the way she looked at them, he understood she loved them. She wasn’t their mother, but they were her children. And didn’t that just hit him right in the heart? He’d been one of those kids once and she… she was an angel. He admired the hell out of her drive to help.
Although she’d asked him to wait, he couldn’t leave her to face this guy on her own. What if she needed backup? He followed at a distance and watched her slip into an office with a man he presumed was Verinetti. He took cover in the shadows, around the corner of the hallway that led to the men’s room. And now he stewed, wondering what was taking so long. Wondering if he should kick in the door and pull her out of there. He had no right to feel this level of possessiveness. She wasn’t his wife or even his girlfriend. And he wasn’t some sort of stalker who felt the need to control a woman just because he was attracted to her.
Only, every time he looked at her he had this feeling, deep in the core of who he was, that they shared a karmic connection. He wasn’t a man who believed in reincarnation, but she was beyond familiar. Something about her spoke directly to the most feral part of him. He desperately wanted to understand why, and the only way to do that was to get closer to her. Was it any wonder then that the thought of her alone in that room with her old flame was like a sliver of wood lodged under his fingernail.
The click of the door opening had him peering furtively around the corner.
Rowan appeared in the doorway. “Be careful, Rowan. I’d hate for your next death to be the real thing,” the bastard’s voice said from the office.
Next death? Nick didn’t understand what that meant, but he understood the tone. That was a threat, and it made Nick grind his teeth.
The office door closed behind Rowan. She looked both ways, then headed straight for him. He flattened himself against the wall and waited for her to pass. She did. He was sure she hadn’t seen him. But then she stopped about five feet down the hall in front of him.
“Nick, what are you doing here?” she whispered over her shoulder. She turned slowly and looked directly at him. “I thought I asked you to wait in the lounge.”
“I didn’t think you’d seen me.”
“I didn’t. I smelled you… your cologne.”
“I’m not wearing any.”
“I asked you to wait for me,” she said again, more firmly.
“I’m bad at doing what I’m told. What did you find out?”
She frowned. “This isn’t safe, Nick. You should go. We can talk later.”
He had to stop himself from laughing. “If it’s safe for you, it’s safe for me. I have training and this.” He opened his jacket and showed her his gun.
She scoffed. “You don’t have training for this.”
“What did he tell you?”
She shifted and released a deep sigh. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
“No.”
“Then be prepared, because you might see some things you don’t want to see. And stay close to me. I’ll protect you.” She turned on her heel and started down the hall.
