Grrr. Too bad the walls couldn’t move an inch inward and trap him.
She shoved aside the wooden crate blocking the manhole. As she grasped the lid, he reached out. “Let me.”
“Please. As if.” With a grunt, she heaved the heavy iron cover away, and it fell with a resonating clang. She spun and went feet first through the hole, landing on the first rung of the ladder leading down into the gloomy tunnel and stagnant air. This entrance was some distance from her basement, but since she had to do a tour, it worked. A bald light hung by a cord on the graffitied wall, barely illuminating the damp place.
Shadow descended then stomped through the labyrinth deep in the city’s underbelly, Mister Pain-in-her-Ass close on her heels. Heck, she didn’t have time for this, playing guide. She had to find Joyce and convince her to leave this hellhole.
“Guess it’s nothing like your fancy castle, huh?” she taunted. He remained silent. “Nobody gives a shit about these people,” she plowed on. “They have nowhere else to go, no support. Down here, in the forgotten, they all congregate.”
“Why areyouhere?”
Like she would spill. “‘Cause I love the smell of poverty and watching people starve. You know, the usual fun stuff girls like me enjoy.”
His deadly pale stare nailed her like blades. She rolled her eyes and dropped her acerbic attitude. “This Refuge borders on Rough’s territory. He’s one of the gang leaders you want. And do me a fave, don’t draw his notice—Christ! The way you look is definite to get me in a shitload of trouble,” she muttered, irritation resurging.
Raised voices had her stilling. Shit, she grabbed his powerful forearm and yanked him behind a pillar and into the shadows as several of Rough’s thugs sauntered past.
A mind-churning scent of pure male, stormy nights, and cedar enfolded her, causing her heart to thud harder. Man…she inhaled sharply, his closeness making her too edgy—
“He wants her, the new one with the wild hair,” a low growly voice dragged Shadow back. “Make sure it happens.”
Joyce?
The poor woman. She’d escaped her abusive ex, only to have these assholes after her.
Blood pounding in her skull, Shadow peeped out from their hiding place behind a square pillar. Three of them. She would kill the jerks. Teeth gritted, she moved, but Nik hauled her back, keeping a tight hold on her upper arm.
“Let go,” she hissed. “They’re after another woman for their horny, freakin’ leader, the buzzards!”
“You think you can handle those humans?” He held her flaying arms easily like they were some pesky insect’s wings, which irritated her more when she could usually break free of anyone.
“If I can kill demoniis, I sure as hell can deal with them.”
“Not on my watch.”
She scowled. Good thing she would be rid of him by tomorrow. “FYI? I don’t need aman’shelp in staying safe. I do fine by myself.”
Ugh, she must have lost her ever-loving mind agreeing to this farce.
No, wait, he threatened to hand her over to the cop. The jerk.
Besides, she didn’t want a fight here where the inhabitants could get caught in the crossfire, especially the children.
She shot him a frustrated look, taking in the threadbare, faded gray t-shirt delineating every muscle on his big, hard body. Faded black jeans covered his heavily muscled thighs, sporting a partly ripped back pocket, hanging halfway down his tight ass, and a couple of holes in the knee area.
If he thought dressing this way would make him blend amidst the homeless, yeah, Mr. Big, Tough Guardian was very much mistaken. But then Rough never let size matter, not when he had guns to do his talking and thugs to make a point.
Moments later, they left the stinky sewers behind and headed out into an open section of the old subway. A line of bare bulbs flickered above, casting a dim light over the open space.
“This is The Refuge.” She waved her hand around the reality of life for those shunned by society. The odor of boiling meat masked the usually fetid, damp smells of the underground. Her stomach rebelled, and she kept breathing shallow. Noise drifted to her, but everything appeared subdued as usual, even the kids playing with a punctured soccer ball.
People claimed several spots as their own with cardboard boxes or tarps separating the little dwellings. Most ignored them. Some glanced at her and Nik then went back to minding their own business.
Shadow cut Nik another furtive look—and gaped.
Next to her plodded a gaunt man with hunched shoulders, as if life had failed him repeatedly. Even his tatts had disappeared. He radiated the downtrodden.
She stumbled to a halt. “What did you do to yourself?”
