Therese passed the time looking out her window and staring at the businesses they were passing. It had been a while since she’d been in any kind of vehicle, and she had forgotten how much she enjoyed just sitting back and watching whatever was at the side of the road. Gareth had liked to go for drives, and she had been her brother’s regular companion.
Although… the last time she had been in a car had been with Trez. His BMW. After he had briefly lost consciousness and had to be taken to get checked out.
On mutual agreement, they had abandoned that mission, and she had never asked him whether he was okay. She had just assumed so—
And he had kissed her, then.
“Are you warm enough?”
Startled by the voice next to her, she glanced at Emile. “Oh, yes, thank you.”
“Here are the controls.” He pointed to the… well, controls. “In case you want to change anything.”
“Thank you.”
Determined to stop thinking about that Shadow, she tried to find something to say. Funny how when you changed the environment, you changed the vibe. She had never had a hard time talking to Emile when they were at work. Now, outside of the restaurant and alone with him, things were awkward.
“The snow is stopping,” she said as she leaned in to the windshield. “It’s about time.”
“Yes, it is.”
Great, they were covering the weather. Next up—sports? Yeah, that was the last thing she wanted to talk about. During NCAA basketball season, she and Gareth had always been glued to the TV, watching the Spartans play. Never doubt the Izzo, they had always said.
She hadn’t turned even one game on since she’d left.
“So,” Emile said, “what kind of music do you—”
The sound of his cell phone ringing spared her from making that kind of small talk. Although as he reached into his coat and took out his phone, she figured she might as well get an answer ready.
“Liza—” He stopped as he got cut off. “Wait, I can’t hear you over the noise. What?”
Therese looked over. The sound of the woman’s voice was squawking out of the phone, all kinds of syllables racing into one another, to the point that even Therese’s vampire hearing couldn’t decipher the rush.
“Okay, okay…” Emile held up his hand as if the woman could see him. “Slow down. I’m not—no, I just left work. I’m giving—” He hesitated and looked at Therese.
Yeah, there was only one response to that. She shook her head.
“I’m giving Therese a ride home,” he muttered.
Three, two… one. Boom!
Both the volume and speed of the words tripled and Therese put her head in her hands. Meanwhile, Emile was battling against a much stronger current than he could ever keep from drowning in.
“But that was in the middle of my shift, Liza. You decided to leave on your own, and I need the…”
When there was finally a pause on the other end, Emile jumped in with, “I don’t think this is a productive conversation. You’re drunk, and I’m hanging up—” He fell silent again, but now he frowned and straightened in the seat. “I’m sorry… what did you just say? Who was this? He did what?”
Therese frowned, and tried to hear what was being said. She was pretty sure the woman was weeping, but it seemed like the drunken kind of crying job, more alcohol than honest emotion.
“I’m coming right now,” Emile said as he hit the gas harder. “Stay where you are. No, I’m going to go. No, I want to have both hands on the wheel. The roads are slick. I want to be safe.”
He ended the call and then glanced at the phone as if he were wishing a lot of things were different in his life.
“You don’t have to drop me off,” Therese said. “If she’s in trouble, let’s just go to wherever she is and I’ll get myself home.”
Emile glanced over again. “I swear, I’ve told her it’s done between us. I mean, I like you. I guess that’s obvious.” He flushed in the dim lights of the dashboard. “I’m thinking, though… that that’s not where this is heading on your side.”
“It’s not because of Liza. I just…”
“I know. You’re interested in someone else. And given the way our boss’s brother looked at me tonight? When he was talking to you? I’m pretty sure it’s mutual—”
“It’s not like that with us.” Oh, God, it felt totally weird to “us” her and Trez Latimer, even if it was in the context of a relationship denial. “Really. I mean, I am totally not ready for any kind of anything with anybody.”
Emile shrugged and refocused on the road ahead. As a sad light came into his eyes, he shrugged. “When it happens, I’m not sure that it cares whether you want it or not.”
Therese put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
The man laughed in a short burst. “You know, I believe that. And it only makes me like you more.” He put his hand out again. “But I’m not going to go overboard. I understand and respect where you’re coming from.”
“Thank you. I wish there was something I could do to help.”
Emile put both hands on the steering wheel. Then he made a clicking sound with his teeth. “You know, actually, there is.”
“Anything,” Therese said. “Name it. And it’s yours.”
“Come with me to talk sense into Liza. Maybe if she hears from your own mouth that there’s nothing going on between you and me, and no possibility of anything happening, she’ll at least relax at work.” He looked over pointedly. “And it’ll help you, too.”
Therese nodded slowly. “I see your point. I’m in.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
And that was how Therese ended up walking into a club that was as dark as the inside of a hat, louder than a concert, and more blinding than a Fourth of July fireworks show. They ditched the Subaru in an open-air lot not far from whatever the place was called—shAdoWs, she thought the sign outside said?—and walked the two blocks over to the wait line. It turned out Emile knew the bouncer from his previous job, so they got right in, although that was no prize as far as she was concerned.
Bodies. Gyrating. Everywhere. Lasers shooting through the crowd like purple arrows and every single one of them landing in her eyeballs. Oh, and somewhere, there was a smoke machine.
Plus, dear God, from the music. Pounding. Thumping. Molar-rattling. How did these people stand it?
“Did she tell you where she was?” Therese yelled over the din. When Emile mouthed a What?, she leaned in toward his ear. “Where is she in here?”
“I don’t know,” Emile hollered back. Then he shrugged and pointed in some direction. “Here?”
Therese made the universal sign for Why not? because it was easier than trying to get heard over the music. And then she had more problems. Heading toward where he had randomly pointed turned out to be harder than communicating. There were so many humans on the floor, pushing, shoving, dancing, slipping, falling. It was as if the slick roads from the storm had come inside and there were three hundred drunk drivers careening down Caldwell’s streets.
Speaking of which, how was it possible that none of these people had stayed home because of the storm? It seemed like the inclement weather had inspired them in the opposite way, no hermitting to be found anywhere.
Then again, did she really think good choices were at the top of anyone’s To-Do list in here?
She was looking around, trying to locate Emile’s kind-of-girlfriend’s hairstyle, while at the same time not get left behind, when the fight broke out.
At first, she didn’t notice the jostling because she was getting bumped into by all sorts of shoulders and elbows anyway, but then a body slammed into her and knocked her off her feet: One moment, she was upright and ambulatory; the next, she was on her ass.
After which there was a stampede’s worth of boots and stilettos within inches of her face, her hands, her internal organs.
It was amazing how fast you could move when you didn’t want to get hurt. As the crowd surged and retreated like a school of fish, all those humans swirling together as if they were choreographed, she jumped up—
Only to get knocked into again, this time by a human man who not only put her back on the dance floor but also used her as a cushion, his heavy weight landing on top of her. As the breath was knocked out of her lungs, she got fed up. Planting her palms on his shoulder blades, she shoved him off of her, sending him flying into the crowd, toast out of a toaster.
Therese did not mess around with vertical attempt number two. She punched herself up and stayed in a crouch, arms in front of herself, eyes sweeping around and looking for the next dodgeball.
That was when she saw the real trouble. Two human men were locked in a joint throat grab, and it looked like their posses had gotten involved—and not to peel them apart. There were spin-off fights around the center conflict, satellites of smackdown that agitated the crowd even more.
Meanwhile, Emile was not anywhere to be seen, especially as another one of those purple lasers nailed Therese right in the eye, the impact like being Three Stooges poked.
Cursing, she brought her hand up—
The gunshot was unmistakable, even with the music, a high, hot pop! that cut through the bass and the treble. And then there were screams, shrill and piercing.
In slow motion, Therese turned to the sound and held her arms up to shield herself. Although her right eye was uselessly blinded, she was able to focus her left one, and that was when she saw the muzzle of the weapon point in her direction.
The true target was a human man who had stumbled into her path, but it wasn’t as if a little nuance like that was going to matter to the bullet.
There was a flash out of the tip of the gun, and Therese jumped to the side, going full Superman on the lunge, arms out ahead, body straight in the air, feet pointed. She even turned her head to track that muzzle, just to make sure she was out of range.