Page 16 of Lover Forbidden
“That doesn’t bother me.” Her half smile was like a bomb going off in his chest. “And if you tell me you’ve never had a manicure—”
“Dev. Short for Devlin.” But he didn’t dare touch her. “And I’d take my hat off, but I already did—or you wouldn’t have had to bring it back to me.”
“Are you always so formal?” she murmured.
“You’re a lady. And my mother taught me certain manners.”
That smile got a little wider. “She’s certainly someone with standards and how lucky to have a son like you who—”
“She’s dead, and I didn’t like her.”
The blonde’s face froze, and, yup, he was reminded of why the monk thing for him was really the best option. For so many reasons.
“This isfantastic! Let me get apictureof you both!”
That little dark-haired woman with the bullhorn voice barreled through the pedestrian barrier like a tank, and what do you know: The crowd that had gathered out in the street followed her right in, all floodwaters after a dam burst.
He put his arms wide, knowing Bob was going to fricking love this. “You people got to get outta here—”
The brunette looked up at him like she’d never seen a stop sign, red light, or hold-your-horses hand motion in her life.
“Just a picture,” she said in a suddenly level voice. “With the jacket around her standing next to you—”
“Marcia,” the blonde started, “this is not the time or place—”
As the flashes from all those phone cameras blinded him, he knew he had to bolt—hell, he shouldn’t have gotten involved with this circus in the first place.
Yeah, except then she’d be dead in the street, and what a waste.
“Keep the jacket,” he told her gruffly. “And go back where you came from.”
“Wait, you should take it—”
“I have another,” he lied as he walked away.
He didn’t head over to the jackhammer because he knew she’d just give things another go with the give-back, and bring her entourage along with her. Instead, he two-stepped the stairs and went inside the old, cold building—and made sure the door couldn’t be opened behind him.
“Fucking… hell,” he muttered as the wind howled outside.
The lobby was nothing more than a ripped-clean cavern of dust and debris, the pathways through the buildup on the floor created by bins being dragged or equipment getting pulled or workers traipsing through as tributaries running off from the headwater of the entrance.
The sixth floor was waiting for him, and yet he stayed where he was, hands on his hips, head down…
… as the specter of his past stalked around him in the drafts, having no mercy while he screamed in his head.
He’d been so good at leaving himself behind and getting lost in the present.
And a chance meeting with that blonde wasn’t going to change that track record. He was still a ghost for all intents and purposes, and he was going to damn well stay that way—
The main door opened behind him, and as the roar of the weather blasted into the lobby, all kinds of particles hit the air and spun up into tiny gray twisters.
Dev pivoted around grimly.
It was Bob, not the blonde. And that wasn’t much better news, was it.
CHAPTER SIX
Some fifteen blocks due east and a little south, Shuli was deep down an abandoned avenue and having a great fucking night. The cold had eaten under his clothes, his bad hip was acting up—and he was really fucking tired of playing babysitter for a heavily armed, cranky toddler. Oh, and he also had blacklesserblood all over his face—which meant the oily shit was in his mouth.
