Page 16 of The Immortal's One
She checks the screen, frowning. “Damn it. The bartender can’t find Josh’s card. He wants us to come wait with him.”
I glance over the sea of bodies between us and the bar. Dread flows through me. “How about I just wait for you in the car?”
Kayla purses her lips. “Are you sure? I can just tell Josh he’s on his own.”
“No, don’t do that. I’ll be fine. Sitting in a quiet car for a few minutes actually sounds like heaven right now.”
She sighs. “Okay, we’ll be as fast as we can.” She hands me the car keys.
I force myself to smile. “Sounds good.”
Kayla disappears into the crowd, and I resume my path to the exit. Each step toward the door is one step closer to freedom.
The bouncer catches my eye as I approach. He gives me a nod and opens the door, his gaze lingering just a little too long. “Have a good night, sweetheart.”
My cheeks flush. “You, too.”
The moment I step outside, crisp winter air bites at my skin, cooling my face. I inhale a deep breath. The refreshing cold helps clear the fog in my head. I wish I could stay here until Kayla and Josh come out, but my outfit isn’t meant to withstand the frigid temperature for long.
I walk toward the satellite parking lot at the end of the block, my booties’ block heels clicking against the pavement. People crowd the sidewalks, heading to or from the nearby bars and clubs. Laughter and inebriated speech mix with the hum of traffic driving past. But as soon as I turn into the parking lot sandwiched between two brick buildings, the noise dulls. The place is eerily empty.
Gravel crunches under my feet, the sound amplified in the silence as I search for Kayla’s car. A single street light casts a dim glow overhead, but it’s too weak to pierce the darkness hovering between the rows of parked cars. I lift Kayla’s key fob, pressing the lock button.
The car beeps, but the headlights don’t flash. I pause, a frown pulling at my lips, and repeat the process—press, beep, no flash. I turn in a slow circle, trying to pinpoint the sound. After a few moments, I spot her car two rows over.
I start toward it, but then the sharp crunch of gravel reaches me.
I stop.
Three figures move in the distance, crossing the empty lot with deliberate, heavy steps. They’re large—too large to be anything but men. The way they walk, quick and purposeful, sends a cold thread of unease down my spine.
I’m not paranoid, but I trust my instincts. And right now, every bone in my body screams to be careful.
I grip Kayla’s keys between my knuckles, a makeshift weapon, and call out, “Hello?”
I read somewhere that one way to deter an attacker is to make them aware you’ve noticed them—make eye contact, speak up. Most will back off, realizing you’re not an easy target. Criminals are less likely to attack someone who could identify them later.
The men don’t answer. They don’t even slow their pace.
I take a slow, calculated step back, my eyes never leaving them. My grip tightens on the keys. My pulse begins to race as I mentally prepare to run.
A deep, slow voice thick with malice sounds behind me. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
I whip around. The sudden motion sends a throb of pain through my skull, but the ache is drowned out by the surge of fear that pours into my veins.
Standing just a few feet away, blocking my path, is a man who looks like he weighs at least three hundred pounds of solid muscle. His broad frame fills the space between Kayla’s car and me, blocking my escape.
5
The man stands still,his dark clothes blending with the night.
I grip the keys so hard they bite into my palm. My heart pounds, loud enough that I struggle to hear the vibrant crowd of partygoers in the distance.
I edge backward, keeping my eyes locked on him. A shiver climbs my spine when his head tilts ever so slightly, like a predator sizing up its prey.
Then I hear it—more footsteps behind me.
Please, please, please let it be Kayla and Josh.
