As I turned and headed toward my car, I took a deep breath, words slipping from my mouth before I could stop them.
“I was given the gift once and failed. I don’t deserve a second chance.”
CHAPTER 20
Josette
Fear.
The emotion was ugly and demanding, feasting on every aspect of current life just as it had done in my past. I’d fought valiantly to rid myself of the anger and terror of being found, the nightmares that had plagued me for months after leaving everything I’d ever known.
With the earlier attack, it was all coming back to me, breaking through the padlocks and forcing me to face the past. Real monsters did exist and all of them seemed to be wearing tailored suits and driving fancy sports cars.
A maniacal laugh pushed up from my throat. Now I was comparing the attributes of various cold natured beasts disguising themselves as decent human beings.
The floor was my haven and had been, the only place I’d felt safe. It was a symbol, at least according to the single psychiatrist I’d bothered to see years before. Here I was again, sitting on thecold, hard floor. Only this time in a stranger’s house. Although Sinclair was much more than just a stranger.
I leaned my head against the cabinet door, staring up at the ceiling. A scorpion tattoo. While Sinclair hadn’t offered any explanation of why my recollection was useful, I could tell he’d expected or even hoped the answer would be the one I’d given him.
It hadn’t been the tattoo I’d seen on the man that had bothered me. The moment butterflies had found a permanent home in my stomach and my pulse had skyrocketed had been because of the necklace the strange man been wearing.
The same dagger with a diamond-encrusted handle I’d remembered from years before. The same one Zane had worn and so many others in his little clan. Or cult. Or whatever he’d wanted to call it. Young men believing they were allowed by their birthright to rule the world.
Their group had grown significantly over the years, at least from what little had been written about them, stories told by tenacious reporters. After I’d fled Savannah, I’d tried to pay attention to the snippets of articles and their increasing power before finally deciding that emotionally, all I’d been doing was allowing Zane some continued sense of control over me.
Then something had come over me only a couple of years ago and I’d searched for any recent articles. There’d been none. I’d taken it as a sign I was free.
But what exactly had I thought I’d been free of?
Now I found it difficult to believe the mystery man’s sudden appearance in my coffee shop was simply coincidental. No, he hadn’t said anything, but he hadn’t needed to. That I hadn’t feltcomfortable enough to mention the detail to Sinclair meant I couldn’t trust him.
Or that I was fearful of what he’d do.
Or maybe even worse, I wouldn’t mind if he hunted them all down.
I tapped my head against the solid wood, groaning at my ridiculous thoughts.
Seeing him gunning down so many people without any hesitation had caused a strange combination of fear and awe.
In the end, I’d cheered him on.
Despite everything that had occurred, my skin had tingled from his touch, my heart hammering from the closeness and wild charge of electricity we continued to share. I knew deep down inside that I couldn’t just ignore my feelings for him. The taste of his lips stayed on mine.
The lingering scent of gasoline and smoke, gunpowder and his exotic aftershave was powerful in a way that I’d never be able to explain to anyone. I found it evocative, keeping the goosebumps flicking across my skin.
A nudge from Indiana’s head reminded me he wasn’t interested in my daydreaming but in the treat I’d discovered in the nearly empty fridge.
“Here you go, my beautiful baby. A little cheese always makes everything better.” I was sitting on the floor in the kitchen, enjoying being at Indiana’s level. In truth, I was also uncertain I could stand without swaying or falling. For all the bravado I’d shown before, my defiance constantly amusing Sinclair, I felt puny.
There was no other word for it. Other than maybe lost.
Indiana was still shaken, although the pup had been a brave soul, suddenly becoming a guard dog after being my emotional support for years. My valiant furry hero. The way he’d lunged from the shattered window had been amazing and I was still shocked he hadn’t been cut to ribbons on the thick, broken glass.
When the first bullets had started to fly, two hitting the driver’s side of Sinclair’s Charger, I’d thought for certain none of us would survive.
When the asshole biker had started driving a sledgehammer against the window, I’d screamed at the top of my lungs, even considering bolting from the other side. But the craziness of fires and bikers circling Sinclair and his men had kept me petrified.
But the moment I’d been yanked from the window, I’d fought with everything I had.
