in a voice I didn’t like. It was a voice that hinted at knowing me more than I was comfortable with. I didn’t want Scott to have that kind of insight into me. Not at midnight, anyway. Not when I was
“How do I know that?”
“You don’t. This is your chance to put my intentions to the test. Find out what I’m really made of.”
I snagged my lower lip between my teeth, thinking. I wasn’t the kind of girl who sneaked out at night. And here I was, about to do it twice in one week. I was beginning to think I was one hundred eighty degrees from the person I liked to believe I was.
The idea of going out after dark to spy on one of Hank’s warehouses didn’t exactly send a warm, fuzzy feeling through me, but I rationalized that I’d be with Scott the entire time. And if there was one thing I wanted, it was to get Hank out of my life for good. Maybe, if Scott was right about him being Nephilim, Hank was capable of mind- tricking one or two cops, but if he was doing something highly illegal, there was no way he could evade the entire police force. Right now, getting the police to breathe down his neck seemed like a good start to unraveling his plans, whatever they were.
“Is this even safe?” I asked. “How do we know we won’t get caught?”
“I’ve been canvassing the building for days. Nobody’s there at night. We’ll take a few pictures from the windows. Level of risk is low. You in or not?”
I gave a relenting sigh. “Fine! I’ll throw on some clothes. Turn around. I’m in my pj’s.” Pj’s that consisted of nothing but a tank and boy shorts — an image I didn’t want to sear into Scott’s mind.
Scott smiled. “I’m a guy. That’s like asking a kid not to glance at the candy counter.”
The dimple in his cheek deepened. And it was
Because I wasn’t going down this road with Scott. I made the decision instantly. Our relationship was complicated enough. If we were going to work together, platonic was the only way to go.
With a wry smile, he raised his arms in defeat and gave me his back. I scrambled out of bed, loped across the room, and shut myself in the closet.
Since the doors were slatted, I left the light off just to be safe and felt my way down the rack of clothes. I tugged on a pair of skinny jeans, a layering tee, and a hoodie. I opted for tennis shoes, fearing we might have to run at a moment’s notice.
Buttoning the top of my jeans, I opened the closet door. “You know what I’m thinking right now?” I asked Scott.
His eyes scanned me. “That you look cute in that girl-next-door way?”
Why did he have to say things like that? I felt a blush spring to my cheeks and hoped Scott missed it in the dim light.
I said, “That I’d better not regret this.”
CHAPTER 16
SCOTT’S MODE OF TRANSPORTATION WAS A 1971 Dodge Charger, not the quietest of cars for a guy who insisted we keep a low profile. Add on the fact that the tailpipe sounded like it had developed a crack, and I was pretty sure we could be heard rocketing around from several blocks away. Even though I thought we were only piling on the suspicion by thundering through town with our hoods up, Scott was adamant.
“The Black Hand has spies everywhere,” he informed me yet again. As if to punctuate his point, his eyes flicked to the rearview mirror. “If he catches us together …” He let the sentence dangle.
“I get it,” I said. Brave words, considering they sent a shudder right through me. I preferred not to think about what Hank would do if he suspected Scott and I were spying on him.
“I shouldn’t have taken you to the cave,” Scott said. “He’d do just about anything to find me. I wasn’t thinking about how this would impact you.”
“It’s okay,” I said, but that ominous chill hadn’t vanished. “You were surprised to see me. You weren’t thinking. Neither was I. I’m still not thinking,” I added with a shaky laugh. “Otherwise I wouldn’t be snooping around one of his warehouses. Is the building under video surveillance?”
“No. My guess is the Black Hand doesn’t want any extra evidence proving what goes on there. Video can leak,” he added meaningfully.
Scott parked the Charger by the Wentworth River, under the low-hanging branches of a tree, and we swung out. By the time we’d walked a block, I couldn’t see the car when I glanced over my shoulder. I supposed that was what Scott had been going for. We crept alongside the river, the moon too thin to cast our shadows.
We crossed Front Street, weaving between old brick warehouses, slender and tall, built one right after another. The original architect clearly hadn’t wanted to waste space. The buildings’ windows were greased over, barred with iron, or covered from the inside with newsprint. Trash and tumbleweeds crammed the foundations.
“That’s the Black Hand’s warehouse,” Scott whispered. He pointed in the direction of a four-story brick structure with a rickety fire escape and arched windows. “He’s gone inside it five times in the past week. He always comes just before dawn, when the rest of town is sleeping. He parks several blocks away and walks the rest of the way on foot. Sometimes he’ll circle a block twice just to make sure he’s not being followed. You still think he’s storing cars?”
I had to admit, the chances of Hank taking that kind of precaution over Toyota inventory was pretty low. If anything, it sounded like he was using the building as a chop shop, but I didn’t really believe that, either. Hank was one of the wealthiest and most influential men in town. He wasn’t desperate to make a little cash on the side. No, something else was going on. And by the way the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, I predicted it wasn’t good.
“Are we going to be able to see inside?” I asked, wondering if the windows on Hank’s building were blacked out like the others. We were still too far away to tell.
“Let’s move up another block and find out.”
We hugged each building along the way so closely the bricks snagged my hoodie. At the end of the block, we were close enough to Hank’s building to see that while the windows on the bottom two floors were covered in newspaper, those on the top two floors had been left unobstructed.
“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Scott asked with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
“Climb the fire escape and have a look inside?”
“We could draw lots. Loser goes up.”
“No way. This was your idea. You should go up.”
“Chicken.” He grinned, but sweat glistened on his forehead. He pulled out a cheap disposable camera. “It’s dark, but I’ll try to get a few clean pictures.”
Without another word, we ran in a crouch across the street. We hurried down the alley behind Hank’s building and didn’t stop until we were hidden behind a Dumpster splashed with graffiti. I braced my hands on my knees and swallowed air. I couldn’t tell if my shortness of breath was due to the running or anxiety. Now that we’d come this far, I suddenly wished I’d stayed behind in the Charger. Or stayed home, period. My greatest fear at this point was being discovered by Hank. How certain was Scott that we weren’t being caught on surveillance tape at this very moment?
“Are you going up?” I asked, secretly hoping he’d developed cold feet too and would make an executive decision to retreat to the car.
“Or in. What are the chances the Black Hand forgot to lock up?” he asked, jerking his head in the direction of a row of truck bay doors.
I hadn’t noticed the bay doors until Scott pointed them out. They were raised off the ground and set back in an alcove. Perfect for loading and unloading cargo privately. There were three in a row, and something clicked in my head when I saw them. They looked a lot like the bay doors I’d pictured during my hallucination in the school bathroom. The warehouse also had a creepy resemblance to the other hallucination I’d had with Jev by the side of
