She raced onto the central island and came to a screeching halt not far from him. The cars on the opposite side from where she’d started didn’t provide an opening, whizzing by too fast for this cricket to risk launching herself into them. She sucked down air, her face red from cold and exertion. Piers swiftly took inventory. Tall. Blonde. A good runner—although he wasn’t sure how in those little boots that hugged her ankles. Her puffy pink upper body apparel rose and fell on quick breaths as she frantically looked behind her.
Something in the woman’s wide, frightened eyes made Piers’s chest tighten. He followed her gaze, seeing two men step into the street, risking the oncoming cars to narrow the gap to the target they were obviously chasing.
“Shit.” She spun in a half circle, feverishly looking for a way off the central island that didn’t involve certain death—or at the very least, broken bones. Grimacing, she gathered herself to run.
Piers’s protective instincts roared to life, and he reached for the woman just as she decided to throw all caution to the wind. His hand closed around her upper arm, stopping her from rushing headlong into traffic. She whirled on him with a gasp.
Bright blue eyes shot even wider than before. So blue. They punched into him like twin lightning bolts and stole the breath from his lungs.
“Don’t cross yet.” He sounded just like the people all around him. Since that went far beyond luck, he knew it was sorcery. “You have to wait for the striding man to hold back the metal wagons.”
She gaped at him. “What? Let go of me!” She started twisting.
Piers turned his grip to stone, even though he didn’t want to hurt her. “You’ll get yourself killed.”
“They’llkill me!” She glanced sideways at the oncoming men.
“Why?”
“Why?” Her jaw dropped farther. “Because they’re hired thugs, and someone paid them to!”
Piers nodded. That was good enough for him to defend her. She could be lying, but he didn’t think so. Something about her bright, inflated attire and tight little head covering with the multicolored zigzags running across it told him she was trustworthy, while the burly men in dark clothing hunting down a lone woman probably weren’t the good guys.
“Stay here. Stay behind me,” Piers said.
Her delicate brows snapped together. “Why?” She glanced toward the two big warriors. “I have to get out of here.”
Piers followed her frightened gaze again. He had to admit, the two men looked formidable. Large. Muscular. One was blond. The other had brown hair. Beyond that, they looked interchangeable. Same size, shape, and posture. He wouldn’t have minded having his brothers with him right now, but since he was alone, he’d handle it.
“Stay,” he repeated, letting her arm go with a little squeeze to help convince her.
She wrenched away from him. “I’m not a dog!” Her frosty indignation hit him at the same time as the cold wind barreling down the thoroughfare. She looked him up and down, probably seeing his goose bumps. “Just because you escaped from…I don’t know…the set ofGladiatordoesn’t mean you get to order me around like some Roman general!”
While her words themselves made sense to him, Piers had no idea what she meant by any of that except forgeneral—which was true. But right now, he didn’t have time to deal with his questions. The warriors arrived on the central island, barely sparing him a glance as they focused on the woman.
“Nowhere left to run,” the fair-haired one said with a satisfied chuckle.
Her breath shuddered. She backed toward the cars racing behind her, her golden hair flying on the wind, her eyes wide with terror.
“Stay!” Piers growled.
Her eyes snapped to his. She swallowed and stopped moving.
“Hand it over.” The second man’s flinty stare was as dark as his hair and clothing. “Give up the crystal, and you can stop running. Don’t you want to go home to your family for Christmas? Or maybe we should paythema little visit?”
Behind Piers, she sucked in a sharp breath. Anger sparked inside him, and he placed himself even more squarely in front of her.
“I think you should leave now,” Piers ground out. The hired ruffians could go back the same way they’d come, cars and all. The magic would change soon anyway. It alternated.
The blond jerked his chin at Piers. “This isn’t your problem, Zorba. Go back to the Theater District.”
The other man moved closer, holding out his hand and beckoning for this crystal the woman must have in her possession. “There’s no reason for the same thing to happen to you as to your friend in California. He took something that wasn’t his and sent it to you. He should never have put you in the middle of this. All my employer wants is the crystal. He doesn’t give a shit about a French teacher from Connecticut. And you”—his eyes flicked to Piers—“get out of the way, asshole.”
This insult was obviously in fashion. Piers was going to have to start using it. “No. Leave her alone and back away unless you want to lose that hand…asshole.”
Piers didn’t check over his shoulder for confirmation. If the woman wanted to hand over the crystal, she would. Instead, she’d led two ruffians on a difficult chase they were obviously sick of. Good for her. He smiled.
Both men’s demeanors shifted. Half a step back, shoulders stiffer, necks shorter, brows lowered. Had they only just now noticed the broken nose and blood on his teeth? People weren’t very observant in Apple.
