Knife in my palm, I stood frozen, looking down at it. I’d never held a weapon like this before—razor sharp, deadly, and making my butcher knives look like spatulas. On the far right, scratched into the surface was his name. Balen.
The door burst open and I jumped, my grip on the knife tightening. Jedrik stood there, gaze sweeping over me and then to the body lying on the floor.
“The other guy . . . I saw him come in here. Where did he go?” Jedrik asked. When I didn’t reply right away, he asked again, this time his voice deeper with a sense of urgency. “Danni, do you know him?”
I looked at the knife and then back at Jedrik. “No.”
Jedrik nodded to the weapon. “And that?”
I tried to snap the blade closed into the handle. “Umm, it’s nothing. I had it. I carry it for protection.” My voice quivered and I knew Jedrik heard it when he snorted. I had no idea why I lied, but Jedrik didn’t say anything. “It’s late and I have clients coming tomorrow. Can we go now?” Another lie.
He frowned, but gave an abrupt nod then reached for the knife I was still struggling to close. He waited patiently until I reluctantly handed over the weapon. He snapped it into the safety position and passed it back. “If you ever need to use it, go for the neck.” He gestured toward the man on the floor, who was beginning to wake up and groan in pain. “Want me to nail him one in the groin?”
I half-smiled. “No, I already did that.”
“Fine, but next time some foul-smelling buffoon follows you into the bathroom, scream your bloody head off or take his head off.” He shrugged. “Whichever.”
By the time Jedrik dropped me off at home, it was one in the morning and I was wide awake. The scene from the bar replayed in my mind like a broken record. I touched the knife in my back pocket. Pepper spray I could handle, but a knife? Did he expect me to stab some guy just for being a drunken asshole?
Balen had appeared out of nowhere as if . . . he’d been watching me. There was no way in hell him being at the bar was a coincidence.
Was he watching me right now? Was that why I had the feeling as if he was always around me?
I walked through my gallery, opened the back door, then stepped outside. The cool wind gripped my body as if a hand were pushing me backward toward the safety of my place. I ignored it, crossed my arms, and walked out into the alley. Another gust pounded into me and I shivered.
A dumpster sat to the left and several more a few feet away. Had he stood out here watching me? I looked up at my bedroom window that lacked curtains. I was being stupid; no way would he stand outside in the freezing cold just to watch me through a window.
I turned to head back inside and slammed right into a brick wall of warmth.
“What the hell are you doing?” His voice was low and husky, and damn if it didn’t make my stomach flutter.
I stepped back and crossed my arms over my chest. “Have you been watching me?”
“Didn’t you learn anything tonight? It’s not safe. Get inside before you get hurt.”
Being scolded like a child didn’t work for me. In school, my teachers discovered that pretty damn fast. My parents believed scolding children was for the weak-minded and, instead, discussed issues rationally and encouraged me to be inquisitive. Needless to say, some teachers didn’t take well to a child refusing to do as they were told without question. Another reason the principal’s office became a familiar setting.
I glared back at him. “Either come inside and tell me what the fuck is going on, or leave me the hell alone. And I mean for good. Don’t protect me, don’t follow me, and sure as hell don’t kiss me.”
He stood immovable, blocking the wind and snow from blowing into me. I tried not to flinch, but his unwavering glower made my confidence waver. I raised my chin and narrowed my eyes. “Nothing to say? Well, then, fuck off.” I turned, intent on continuing down the alley just to spite him.
I managed ten steps—I counted—before his voice rose over the howling wind. “Cages.”
I stopped, closing my eyes and putting my fist to my mouth, smothering my cry. It was an overwhelming relief mixed with intense fear knowing that tonight I’d hear what happened to me.
I heard the snow crunch beneath his feet as he came up behind me. Then his hands settled on my hips for a second before he gently pulled me around to face him. He lowered my hand from my mouth then cupped my chin.
“We were in cages,” he repeated.
I met his eyes and that was when I saw the torment. Any anger I felt for him was swept away with the bitter wind. He knew what I’d been through and had lived with the pain just as I had.
“Cages hanging from the ceiling.” His thumb stroked back and forth over my chin. “You were so brave. So fuckin’ brave, Danni.”
I let out a small cry, my mind reeling with confusion, searching for some sort of memory to grasp onto. The sound, a chain cranking, a cage being lowered, fear coursing through my veins, knowing pain would come again. What pain? What had they done to me?
A female voice sounded from the end of the alley. “Don’t!”
Balen shoved me behind him, but kept his hand locked on my arm. The scattered lights from the nearby buildings illuminated a figure walking toward us. She was clothed in a hip length black leather coat that billowed out behind her with each steady step.
I straightened my spine as the woman came into full view. She was stunning. Not model beauty, but a natural beauty. She looked about five-foot-three or -four and had toned legs clad in tight, black jeans. Her hair was cropped shoulder length with jagged edges that reached an inch below her chin. Her features were sharp and her skin a flawless almond color. South American, maybe, or Spanish. Whichever, the woman was beautiful.