Page 72 of The Quiet Witness

“But-”

He raised a single hand. “No buts.” His green eyes cut into hers, a hint of something dark in them, as if they had turned to ice. The same look he’d worn when they met, when she’d crawled out of her hiding space on Christmas. “Please, do as I say.”

It set her on edge just enough to gather the blanket around her. The headlights were cut off, leaving them in the dimly lit living room that had been Lucien’s sanctuary a minute ago.

He turned, movements smooth and fast, as he picked up her book and shoved it back in its place. Dropped her glass in the sink, wiping his black shirt over the round circle her glass had left behind.

He strode back over to her, covering the distance between them in two steps, firmly gripping her shoulder. “Whatever you do. Don’t make a noise. Don’t give a hint that you’re here.” Her gut tightened into a ball as he squeezed again. “Understood?”

She swallowed, throat dry. Lucien traced the tiny movement that betrayed her fear. The sharpness in his eyes retreated briefly, lifting the veil to show the man who had helped her overcome a panic attack. “We’re going to be fine.”

She could only nod her head. At a loss for words, she stepped out of his grasp. Bare feet tapping on the floor as she rushed to her room. The second she’d slipped inside and turned the lock, a rapid knock beat across the house. Not a normal sound one would make at this hour of the evening. No. It carried the tune of a children’s song. Kate slid down the door. Heartbeat hammering in her chest, in rhythm with the haunting melody.

Who the hell was out there?

***

Lucien

The engine had betrayed the owner.

What the hell was he doing here?

Will and plain logic had taught them that limiting physical visits as much as possible would help safeguard their lines of work. Their very lives.

The last thing a killer for hire wanted was a nose meddling in on their affairs. He better have a damn good reason.

Molding his face to one of neutrality, he gripped the cool handle and pushed it down. Quieting the obsessive knocking into silence.

The wind rushed by, forcing him to raise a hand to his eyes. They narrowed at the man who was tapping his foot on the treacherous ice-covered steps.

“Took you long enough, Lucien.” His breath came out in wisps of smoke. Max knocked his boots against the wall before setting foot over the threshold.

Always. So. Goddamned. Loud.

Oh, what a day it would have been, if dear Max had tripped and fallen down the icy stairs. Lucien pictured the event in the papers. Accidents do happen. Maybe he should’ve helped his colleague with a teeny tiny push.

Too late. He squinted as Max brushed by, boots leaving behind small wet puddles. Any other day, he’d have said something. But, given the circumstances, he would give Max a pass. Just this once.

His colleague’s eyes scanned the room. Lucien followed suit. Amber flames licked at the air, their shadows dancing across the walls. A lone glass of liquor waiting for its owner, a book… discarded on its side.

All the signs of a lone man enjoying his evening. Max’s nostrils flared, as if he smelled Kate in the air. Better keep him occupied.

“To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The man in front of him ignored the question. Firing off one of his own as he continued his search. “What were you doing, brother? Your door is always open before I even set foot outside of the car.” He whispered excitedly. “Is there a lady friend here I should meet?”

Lucien snorted, face remaining impassive. “You know me, a lonely fox. No female company would hold out for long in my presence.”

Max chuckled as he rubbed his hands together. “Old habits don’t die, do they?”

“I guess they don’t.” He motioned for Max to follow him to his study. The man trailed behind him. Lucien lazily stretched his arms out above him in a show of relaxation. But he was ready. Ears piqued for the footsteps behind him to speed up and knock him over the head with brass knuckles.

As spine-chillingly annoying as Max was, Lucien knew what he was capable off. Committing the most atrocious act yet remaining human on the outside.

Is this how Kate feels? To be surrounded by a predator, remain on high alert in hopes of catching the blow before it falls?

He was no saint either. The things he’d seen and done. He wasn’t even sure if he could still pass for human. A beast skulked within him, waiting to rear its head.