“Then he has to die.” The ruffian-for-hire had threatened her. Her family. What if she had a large family like he did? He would do anything to protect them.
Pink gaped at him. She did that a lot. “I don’t know what circus decided to spit you out, or what wardrobe from Narnia, but life hasvaluehere. And murder has consequences.You can’t just kill people,” she insisted.
“Fine.” Annoyed, Piers flipped his sword around and brought the hilt down on the man’s temple. Thug Two slumped to the side, unconscious near the refuse pile along with the rest of the garbage. With any luck, he’d have forgotten this coveted crystal when he woke up as well as the blonde woman. He might also have forgotten his own name, but Piers didn’t consider that his problem.
~2~
Sophie’s life hadgone from normal, if a little boring, to utterly insane. How could a handful of days make such a difference? She kept wondering if she’d blinked and woken up in an alternate reality—one where she had to flee her house in the middle of the night when she heard people breaking into it, where hopping from hotel room to hotel room in the city under false names didn’t throw off the people chasing her, where she ran for her life—repeatedly, where incredibly hot—if really strange—men jumped in to help her for no apparent reason, where Greek gods were real, where…
She started breathing so fast her vision turned spotty.
Where she was about to have a breakdown.
“Breathe. Slowly.” The man put his hand between her shoulder blades. He didn’t press, or rub, or do anything, really, but the heat from his hand gave her something to concentrate on other than the ice-cold panic beating through her system.
Or maybe that was the freezing-cold crystal in her pocket. The Shard of Olympus. The darn thing wasn’t a rock. It was an icicle. And itnevermelted.
Sophie drew her shoulders back and took a deep breath. She shook herself out a little. The man let his hand fall away from her, and oddly, she missed it. But her pulse was getting back to normal, and they had to get the hell out of here. Novalight’s lackey could wake up any second. Or more could come. He seemed to have an endless supply of minions.
“We need to go.” She glanced from side to side at the miraculously still people-free alley, at a loss for what to do next after days of exhausting herself and her resources. She was a French teacher, not a millionaire expert at subterfuge.
Nerves made that odd, low buzzing hum in her veins again. It was almost electric. Her fingers tingled with it, heating. She shoved her hands in her pockets.
“Do you, um, have a place in the city?” Her latest hotel room had been compromised—hence today’s run-for-your-life episode. She’d lost a toothbrush and her pajamas, but everything else was in her car, which she’d parked in a whole different neighborhood.
The man shook his head.
Darn. Maybe he was from New Jersey.
At least these two hired guns from Novalight Enterprises would think twice about chasing her down again. She’d given everyone who’d come after her the slip so far, but she’d never left anyone unconscious. She giggled.
“Are you well?” Her rescuer’s gray eyes filled with concern for her. A cowlick lifted his black hair away from his forehead, even though parts of it were long enough to brush his cheekbones. He had a strong brow. A strong jaw. A strong—and swollen—nose. A strong everything, really.Wow, those arms were like tree trunks. And he didn’t even look cold when he was wearing…a toga?
Sophie swallowed more inappropriate laughter. “No. I don’t think I’m well. Are you?” He looked as if he’d been hit by a bus on the way to a costume party.
“I’m…not entirely certain,” he answered.
Well, that made two of them.
He offered his arm as though they were headed to the dance floor for a waltz. Sophie automatically slipped her hand through the crook at his elbow, and they strolled out of the alley to the music of a police siren in the distance. Hopefully, the cops were after someone else.
When they’d put a block between themselves and the Novalight security agent, Sophie steered them east toward where she’d left her car the night before. She didn’t know New York that well and had figured her car was safest in a central neighborhood. Hopefully, it was still there.
“Do you have a name?” she asked the man beside her. She was glad he’d stuck around so far and kind of dreaded the moment he’d leave her.
He shrugged.
“Does that mean no?”
“Everyone has a name,” he answered.
“Well, can I have yours?” Sophie let a teasing note creep into her voice. This guy was taking being an enigma to a whole new level.
He pursed his lips. Full lips. Extremely kissable. A little tinged with blue now that he was cooling down from the fight. Poor guy. He wasn’t dressed for December.
Sophie couldn’t believe she was noticing her companion’s physical attributes when her life was in danger and stopping Novalight from taking over the world was apparently at stake, but it was too hard not to. Her rescuer was glaringly handsome, even all scratched and bruised, with a somewhat freshly broken nose, and in his bizarre Caesar outfit. All that was missing was the laurel wreath crown.
Her brows flew up. She stopped and pulled him to a halt. “Do you not remember? Do you have amnesia or something?” Judging by the state of him, she was pretty sure he’d been knocked in the head a few times.
