Willow could still feel his strong arms wrapped around her as they stepped out into the cool night. He had been gruff with Madame Gauthier and utterly merciless with Estelle Dupont. To say nothing of the five heavily armed men he’d slain with his bare hands. And those monstrous talons.
If Willow had wondered about the breadth of his lethal abilities as a former Hunter, tonight all her questions had been answered in vivid, brutal detail.
Yet she felt no fear for him as she exited the townhouse at his side.
What she felt was a profound sense of gratitude. She felt connected to him in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to until she’d stepped into his embrace in the aftermath of the attack and realized he was holding her just as tightly. More so, even.
It was overwhelming, all the things she was feeling for Razor—feelings that had been building and deepening into an emotional bond she couldn’t deny.
She watched him make a quick check of their assailants’ SUV, which was parked in the alley. Even in the thin moonlight she could see the blood leaking from his wounds. Not that it stopped him or even slowed him down a little.
“You need to let me heal you, Razor.”
“I told you, I’m good.” It was the same thing he’d said when she voiced her concern inside the shelter moments ago. She knew him well enough to understand he’d probably power through even a near-mortal injury, but that didn’t make her worry any less.
He finished rummaging through the vehicle, closing the door with a low curse. “It’s clean. No IDs, no registration. Nothing to indicate who they were or who they might’ve worked for. They’re fucking ghosts.”
He’d searched the bodies inside and had found more of the same.
Raking a hand over his jaw, he turned to face her. “I didn’t see any tracking devices, but it’s too much to risk taking their vehicle.”
Willow took the flash drive out of her pocket. “What do we do with this?”
He held out his hand. “I’ll keep it safe for you.” When she hesitated, his gaze held hers. “Do you trust me?”
She nodded, realizing she trusted him more than anyone now. She gave him the drive and he put it in his front pocket. “We can’t use the train or any other public transit when we don’t know if there are more men like them lurking around the city. We’re going to have to hoof it for a while.”
“It’s okay. I can walk.” She frowned, looking at his alarming collection of gunshot wounds. “Are you sure you can?”
He stepped forward and tenderly cupped her cheek in his palm. Rather than answer, he leaned down and kissed her. It was only a momentary brush of his lips against hers, but the contact left her smoldering with desire.
When he drew back, his eyes were glittering with amber sparks. “Let’s get moving. I want to get as far out of the city as possible before we draw any more unwanted attention. Won’t be easy to do that when we’re both covered in blood.”
Willow’s hands were clean, but her white peasant top and faded jean shorts were stained dark red and sticky from her work on Madame Gauthier. “There’s a second-hand clothing shop not far from here, but it’s probably closed for the night by now.”
“Show me.”
They kept to the smaller streets, bypassing the main thoroughfare which was alive with traffic and pedestrians at close to 8PM. After a few minutes of weaving through the thickly settled city neighborhoods, Willow spotted the small resale shop nestled between a dry cleaner and another space with aFor Leasesign in the front window.
As she suspected, the second-hand store had closed a couple hours earlier. Razor didn’t seem fazed by that fact at all. He led her around to the service door on the rear alley of the small retail block, where he proceeded to open the locked steel door with the power of his mind.
Willow smiled. “That’s a handy trick.”
He shot her a wry, meaningful look. “I have many hidden talents.”
Silently opening the door, he motioned for her to hang back as he stepped across the threshold and peered into the darkened shop. Then he glanced back at her with a nod. “No one’s here, but stay close to me anyway.”
She did as he said, following him inside. The place smelled faintly of incense and the acrid smell of the dry cleaner next door. They passed a tiny washroom, then a pair of curtained fitting rooms and the payment counter on the opposite side, the floorboard creaking under their footsteps as she and Razor walked farther into the shop. Circular racks of hanging garments took up most of the floor space allowing only a tangle of tight walkways between them.
Willow gravitated toward a collection of flowy blouses but Razor shook his head. “Pick something boring and dark. All the better if it’s warm. We could be outside for a while, and it’ll be cold this far north.”
She nodded, drifting to a different rack while he studied her from where he stood near a table of folded men’s flannel shirts. “You need to try to blend in, Willow—although that’s not going to be easy.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a woman who stands out.” He frowned, his gaze drinking her in like a caress. “Do you even realize how beautiful you are?”
Although his compliment made her heart stutter, she scoffed quietly and glanced away from him. “Laurel was the beautiful one,” she admitted, busying herself with the rack of oversized sweatshirts in front of her. “Yes, I know, we were identical twins but if you looked close enough there were differences. Her eyes were a brighter green than mine. She didn’t have as many freckles. She was always smarter than me, prettier, thinner . . .”
