“What do people call you?” I whisper.
“Shadow.”
Of course they do.
“That’s not a name. That’s a weather condition.”
His brows pull together.
“You always mouth off when you’re scared?”
“Yes. Also when I’m hungry, tired, nervous, or dealing with men who grab me in gardens.”
“You were about to get caught.”
“You still grabbed me.”
“Saved you.”
“Jury’s out.”
This time, the corner of his mouth moves.
Barely.
It should not feel like a victory.
It does.
The rear door opens.
Music spills into the garden.
Shadow moves instantly, pressing me back into the narrow dark beside the hedge. His body covers mine from view. My palms land on his chest.
Hard.
Warm.
Alive.
Two men step onto the terrace.
One lights a cigarette.
The tiny flare shows his face.
Landon.
I suck in a sharp breath.
Shadow’s hand slides over my mouth before the sound escapes.
I point with trembling fingers. His eyes follow.
Something lethal passes over his face.
Landon exhales smoke and laughs. “The sister’s asking questions.”
