Page 58

In front of an aged wooden door, Gilbert tugged stacks of boxes from the path. Once clear, he dragged the bolt free of the lock and pulled it open, revealing a short stairwell. At the top was another wooden door, this one set at a sharp angle. “You can exit here without being seen. Outside, the door is hidden behind a tall row of hedges. The landscaper went to great lengths to cover the eyesore.”

Liam nodded and gave her a quick squeeze. “Need to put you down for a bit.”

Knowing she was close to freedom helped to ease her fears. “It’s okay. I’m better now.” While far from comfortable in the enclosed space, the unreasonable terror had ebbed.

Liam set her on her feet, eased up the stairwell, and slowly opened the second door. After a quick check outside, he returned and motioned for her to follow. She trailed up the shallow concrete steps and followed him out.

Just as Gilbert promised, a thick row of hedges hid their escape route. Stars twinkled over her head, and she drew a deep breath of fresh air. Relief washed over her now that they were out of that suffocating space.

She turned to Gilbert, who lingered in the stairwell. “Come, darling. The path is clear,” she whispered.

He shook his head, backing into the depths of the cellar. “I’m afraid I can’t follow you, Mistress. This is my home. My Mildred lingers here. I won’t leave her to face these ruffians alone.”

Gilbert was a widower. His wife died in childbirth. Vivian’s heart twisted. “Gilbert, don’t be silly. Mildred passed decades ago.” Surely, the poor man was lonely and imagining things. “Please, come with us.”

His weathered cheeks pulled into a soft smile. “Who do you think keeps lighting the candles? She lights them for me.”

Vivian pressed her hand to her mouth. Could it be? Despite Dove being a necromancer, Vivian preferred to turn a blind eye to the strange occurrences in her home. All this time, she’d convinced herself it was Gilbert lighting the candles. While she worried for him, she couldn’t help but admire his devotion to his departed wife.

“Not to worry,” he said as though reading her mind. “My Mildred will watch over me. I must go now. Goodbye, Mistress.” With that, he spun and descended the stairs.

From deep within the cellar, a candle flickered to life, illuminating his path.

“Well, that was weird as fuck,”Liam said, closing the door to the cellar. “Figures there’d be ghosts in the mix. Swear this freaking house is like a three-ring circus.”

They needed transportation out of this shitshow and fast. He angled his head around the shrubbery. Between them and the detached garage lay a grassy expanse of manicured lawn with zero coverage.

He cast Vivian a look over his shoulder, eyeing her breasts spilling over the top of her skimpy sleepwear and her bare thighs. Not exactly athletic gear, but it would have to do. “You up for a run?”

She nodded. From the determination glinting in her eyes, you’d think she was sporting camo and Kevlar instead of silk and lace. Now that she was out of that cellar, her attitude had done a one-eighty. He was glad to see some of her sass return.

“You lead. I’ll follow,” she said.

He snorted. That would be a first. “When I say go, you sprint for the garage. No looking back. Full out. Give it everything you got. Understand?”

“I do speak English, you know,” she quipped, eyeing their destination. “Just try to keep up,vieillard.”

He caught the jest of her insult. Old man, is it? Sure, he had a few centuries on her. Didn’t mean he was an invalid.

Smoke wafted on the breeze. Gunfire rang out.

“Now,” he barked, and she took off like a shot.

Liam rocketed after her, thighs pumping. They darted across the lawn, churning grass beneath their feet. Vivian pulled ahead of him. Hard as he tried, he didn’t regain the lead. Damn, but she could move.

They hit the side entrance of the building. Both breathless. “Inside,” he huffed, whipping the door open. With Vivian close on his heels, he strode inside. Several sleek sports cars filled the space. Heading for the first of three garage doors, he popped the manual release. Then, slowly, he pushed the steel panel over his head. It moved with barely a sound, the track well-oiled.

“We should take the Porsche.” Vivian raced to a box on the wall and grabbed a set of keys.

“No way I’m squeezing into that clown car.” The thing was so small he’d have to drive with his knees in his armpits and the steering wheel shoved up his ass.

“Then, I’ll drive.”

“Over my castrated corpse, you will,” he grumbled, reaching into the pocket of his leather jacket.

She spun and planted her hands on her lace-covered hips. “But it’s the fastest car I own.”

“No doubt.” He strolled around her overpriced wind-up toy. “Come to Daddy.” He slung his leg over his bike. The seat cupped his ass like a long-lost lover.