Page 66 of Girl Anonymous

She came out wearing black leather leggings, a body-hugging sleeveless camo T-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Black boots completed the ensemble.

He smiled when he saw her. “I told Andere I wanted an outfit you could fight in. I’d say he’s been watching too many biker movies.”

“Or dominatrix movies!”

He winced. “Please. I don’t want to think that about Andere and…no. Please no.”

He, she was displeased to note, wore brown cargo pants, a midnight blue golf shirt, a brown jacket (probably to cover the bulge of his pistol), and brown running shoes. “You look comfortable.” The bottle was gone from the dresser, so she knew the jacket concealed that, too.

He grabbed a NOLA baseball cap, pulled it on his head, opened the door, and gestured her into the corridor. “Are you not comfortable?”

“Physically, yes.” Every bit of the leather was buttery soft, easy to move in. “Mentally I feel as if I’m missing a whip and some chains.” She ran down the flight of stairs, glanced up to see Dante standing, staring at her as if it wasn’t only Andere who enjoyed the random dominatrix fantasy.

Ha! Danger permeated the air, each breath could be her last, and something about the prospect of death balanced by the prospect of sex enhanced every aspect of this moment. She took the corner and started down the next flight of stairs, then popped back to catch him in mid-stride. “The pants are tear-away,” she said.

He missed a step, jumped, landed, stumbled again, and when he righted himself, he moved so swiftly that if she hadn’t been prepared, he would have caught her and—she didn’t know what he would do. Tear away the pants?

She sprinted down to the ground floor and into the dark quiet kitchen. Catching her as she bolted for the closed back door, he pulled her close. “Stop,” he said. “Quiet.”

His body was tense; she didn’t know how to read that. Wariness as they prepared to leave? Or sexual need that must be reined in? She guessed the answer to both wasyes.

He opened the door, stepped out ahead of her, did a visual check, then gestured her out. “That car.” His voice sounded perfectly normal, the tone conversational.

That carwas an SUV, a couple of years old and a generic silver color.

Rain splattered her as she hurried to the passenger door. “I thought it would be the limo.”

He walked close behind her, and with his hand on her elbow, he helped her in. “They won’t be looking for this car.”

“That’s for sure. It looks like a soccer-mom car.”

“I have my soccer-mom fantasies.” Now that he had her in the car, he lingered as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “Will you wear rolled-down cotton socks and white tennis shoes for me?”

“I’m wearing tear-away leather leggings and you’re lusting after cotton socks and white tennis shoes?”

He pointed his thumb at his chest. “Midfield defender.”

He had surprised her. “You played soccer?”

“In high school. Why do you sound surprised?”

“Team sports seem so…normal.”

“High school was normal. Team sports were normal. How do you think guys get soccer-mom fantasies?” Leaning in, he kissed her surprised mouth. He shut the door and came around. “Make sure you’re belted in.”

“Of course.” She clicked the seat belt. “Out of curiosity, what are you expecting on this trip?”

“Nothing. But I haven’t lived this long by not anticipating everything.”

My God. The world he inhabited.

She heard his voice in her head.You are one of Jånos’s tribe. Think what you like; you were born to this world, same as me.

Damn him. She didn’t want his voice in her head.

He put the vehicle in gear, pulled out, and drove without headlights up the road to Angelica’s estate. The gates opened.

He drove in.

---