Page 129 of Kill for a Kiss

“Storm’s coming in hard,” I say. “We need to go.”

She sits up, the flannel slipping off her shoulders, even when she buttons them up. Our eyes meet the same time lightning strikes.

“We’ve ridden out storms before,” she says, trying to soothe me. “This place can take it.”

The next gust nearly rips the roof off. The wood walls scream in protest. I move fast, going to her, steadying her even as the floor shifts under us. “I’m not letting this place bury you,” I say, low and sharp. “Put the coat on. We’re going.”

Her fingers brush my jaw. I want to lean into it, but I can’t. “I don’t want to leave, Sterling. This place… It’s ours.”

I shake my head. “Not if it kills you.”

A beam snaps above us. I pull her down and cover her just as debris crashes close by, splintering across the floor.

She stares up at me, eyes wide but alive. I cup her face. My hands won’t stop shaking. “We’re going,” I say. “Now.”

Slipping on her coat, she opens her mouth to argue. Then her wide eyes dart to the ceiling, water bursting through the seams. She changes her mind, nodding and quickly grabbing things—the journals, the mask, the violin. The pieces of my past. I stuff them into my coat with rough hands. She grabs it all to tie it up by the sleeves and holds it in her arms.

I lift her into mine, then kick the door wide open and carry her out.

We stumble into the storm. Rain slashes sideways. The wind pushes like it’s got a grudge.

I get her into the Valkyrie, slam the door, and tear around to the driver’s side, my whole body thundering with haste.

As soon as I can, I hit the gas. The wheels grip mud and loose sand. I peel out without a destination, anywhere far away from the death pressing in on all sides.

Through the rearview mirror, I can see the shack shrinking behind us, falling apart and collapsing in on itself.

My eyes flash to the right. Elle’s there. Curled in the passenger seat, soaked and shivering. Clutching my coat, shivering but safe. That’s all that matters.

The Valkyrie tears through the flooded roads. We need shelter.Now. But where the hell do I take her? What’s left that’s safe for us?

My phone rings. I glance at it. Unknown number. No time to think. I punchspeaker.

Damon’s voice goes through. “Sterling—”

“Silver,” Stan cuts in. “About damn time, you slowpoke.”

Damon talks over him, “We’ve been expecting you.”

“How the hell did you know?” I snap, my knuckles white on the wheel.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on you,” Damon says. “Since January via satellite. I was keeping an eye on the storm that was headed toward you. It’s not like you to miss something that pertinent, Sterling.”

My grip on the wheel tightens. I force out a breath. Focus narrows. “You had eyes on me?” I ask, voice flat.

“Through our mutual contact too,” Damon says.

I grit my teeth. “That contact went dark on me. That piece of shit—”

“—had to hide,” Damon interrupts. “I’ve got it covered. I can ensure their safety and welfare.”

Relief punches through me. But I force myself not to react.

“We’re at your safe house,” Stan chirps.

“That got shot to tell,” I say.

“Get to the safe house,” Damon says over Stan’s laugh. “We’ll meet you here. You and Elle are not on your own anymore.”