She rushed to the grass and wet her hands in the cool, evening dew, wiping down her chest to remove what evidence she could.
Would they come for her now? Was that what the helicopter was about?
Did she care? Leaving this place would be a blessing.
Sagging against the shed wall, Daisy dropped to sit on the ground, closing her eyes as she panted. She couldn’t do this. She wanted to go home. They could keep their money.
“She was a real screamer.”
Daisy stopped breathing, her eyes popping wide as her spine stiffened.
“Thought she’d pass out before I finished.” A deep laugh broke the silence.
The nearing odor of cigars had her huddling low.
“Like that would have stopped you,” another male voice laughed.
“A few slaps usually keeps them conscious, but you’re right. It wouldn’t have stopped me.”
The second one laughed again. “I keep telling you, you want your dick sucked right, find a stag.”
As they came closer, Daisy inched back. A terracotta plate she hadn’t noticed slid from a stack and clattered to the ground.
“What was that?”
The men paused, and Daisy held her breath.
“Probably just a cat or something. Come on, let’s find a bar.”
She waited until their footsteps faded along the pebbled walk before exhaling. Scooting back from the shed, she scowled at the terracotta pots that nearly got her caught. If there was a bar nearby, did that mean she was close to a safe zone?
She thought she spotted a green glow when she’d been running over a hill, but her mind had only been focused on getting away. Now that her fear had dissipated, however, her needs were screaming at her. She needed water and a bathroom. Something to clean her cuts and a change of clothes, if that was an option.
So she forced herself to keep moving, following the trail the two hunters had gone.
The pebbled path was a brutal carpet beneath her feet, but hours of hiding in offshoots of gardens had cost her too much in time. As long as the trail was empty, she wasn’t hiding. And right now, for whatever reason, the only company she had was the soft pitch of nearby jazz buzzing from the hedges.
Torches dotted the path, illuminating bright flower buds and well-manicured gardens. But they were nothing compared to the absolute beauty of spotting the green glow of a lantern ahead.
Daisy’s heart leapt, and her pace doubled. She still had a ways to go, but she saw it now, a beacon of hope in what had seemed like an endless night. Then she spotted another and another, the green line working like a connect-the-dots map through the distant landscape, leading her to salvation.
She was going to make it! She was going to get to a safe?—
Daisy’s blood went cold, and her steps faltered as Hadrian Welles emerged from the fog like a fever dream. His plum tuxedo and silver mask caught the distant torchlight and threw it back in shards, as he strolled toward her. “We meet again.”
He prowled closer, each step deliberate and lacking urgency. He moved with the confidence of a man who knew his prey had nowhere left to run.
“You look a bit worn since the last time I saw you. Almost as if you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.”
Pebbles scattered as she stepped back, never letting him close the distance.
He tapped his finger. “Is the beautiful 1922 still as virginal as she once was?” He grinned. “Or has the bell tolled for you—as it inevitably does?”
Her jaw trembled as she walked backward, switching directions and burning extra energy to keep her body safely out of reach.
His stride lengthened just enough to keep her in sight, to let her feel the distance closing by inches. He glanced up ahead and chuckled.
“Green lights. You’re so close.” He lengthened his strides so they were now side by side. “Pity.”
