the night and find his prey. But he wasn’t in the jungle, hadn’t been there in far too long. Memories from his past picked at his brain, and he fought them back. Nick didn’t go back. He’d promised himself a long time ago that there was nothing in the past worth traveling backward for.
But tonight, the sounds of the city street, the lingering danger and scent of female arousal in the air, had him wondering if that promise was really meant to be broken.
“How did you know where I lived?” she asked the moment she slipped her key into the door and he entered her apartment behind her.
“You work for me, remember?” He talked as if he hadn’t just brought her to an amazing climax, his tone neutral—like they were just co-workers.
The simple fact was they were something more. He was the object of her investigation. This attraction wasn’t going to work for them. In fact, it was probably going to make her job a hell of a lot harder. So maybe him acting as if nothing happened in the truck was a good plan. Hell, she didn’t know what plan was good or bad at the moment. She’d messed up so royally tonight, she didn’t know how she’d backtrack by Monday morning.
The one thing she did know without a doubt was that being in the same room with Rome right now was destroying any coherent thought she could muster. Taking a deep breath she put her purse and keys on the table then turned to bid him good night. But he wasn’t there. Moving through her small living room, she entered the closet-like space that served as her dining area. He was at the window, looking out.
“What are you doing in here?”
“Shhhh.” He turned to her, bringing a finger to his lips. “Maybe you should pack a few things and come stay with me.”
It was eerily quiet, the dimness of her apartment cloaking them while slits of moonlight peeked through the open slats of her mini blinds.
“What? Are you crazy? Who’s out there?” She was at the window instantly, looking out to what seemed to be the quiet street. “They didn’t follow us.” Assuming the “they” she was talking about were the three goons from the party.
Not that she could know for sure, since she was obviously preoccupied during the drive over here—another feather in her cap to make the DEA want desperately to hire her.
“Something’s not right,” he said, but he didn’t look at her. Instead his gaze moved around her apartment like he was trying to find something. He didn’t seem to miss a spot.
It was strange and not the nightcap she’d had in mind when she’d left for the evening, watching Roman Reynolds, the hotshot attorney and drop-dead-gorgeous bachelor of the year move about her apartment. But she did watch, did wonder what was going through his mind as he wandered around. He looked almost predatory the way he opened the hallway closet, moved to the bedroom, opening that door, the bathroom, the kitchen. He was thorough in his search, quiet and focused and scaring the hell out of her. “Look, everything is just as I left it. Maybe you should go, Rome.” And maybe she should take a couple of those anti-depressants the therapist was convinced would help her recover. A nice dreamless sleep would probably do her a world of good, especially tonight when things hadn’t happened the way she’d planned.
“Not until you’re safe.” He spoke as if that was a no-brainer.
He was in the living room now, looking around again. His broad body appeared strangely out of place in the modestly decorated space, her space. Kalina instantly felt claustrophobic. There wasn’t enough air in here for both of them to breathe. He didn’t belong here with her; she was used to being alone. Her temples throbbed as a headache made its debut. Dammit, at this rate she was going to have a real nervous breakdown, just like the one the therapist predicted.
“I’m fine and I definitely think you should leave. Now.” He was making her edgier by the minute.
As if he hadn’t heard a word she said, he kept moving and talking. “There’s something…” His voice trailed off. “Lock the door behind me,” he said suddenly, pushing past her.
She didn’t move but looked at him, their gazes locking. For a second, just a split second, she would’ve sworn there was something different about his eyes. The color changed, the shape. Or did it?
“You sh … should go,” she managed to say even while the look he was giving her had heat flowing instantly through her body, prickles of alertness creeping along her skin.
“Lock the goddamn door,” he said, his voice low, deep, almost like a growl.
Then he was gone. For about two seconds Kalina just stared at the closed door, wondering what the hell was going on. With her investigation. With her body. With this man.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to go down. She was the one who needed to find information. He was the target, not her.
Going to her closet, she reached up to the top shelf, pulled down a metal box, and retrieved her nine millimeter. She was heading to the door, determined to follow Rome and find out what was going on.
Then she stopped.
Right there on the stand beside her door was an envelope—a plain white mailing envelope that looked strangely like the one that had been delivered to her a few days ago. The one with the pictures.
With slow, precise movements Kalina walked to the table, staring at the envelope as if by simple willpower it would open and reveal its contents. It couldn’t be the one she’d had the other day. She’d burned that one and the photo. There had been no delivery of another one; she’d never have accepted it. And probably would have shot the bastard trying to deliver it to her.
But here it was. Another envelope, with what inside she didn’t know, but she didn’t think she could afford not to find out.
So with gun in one hand she lifted the envelope with the other. The flap wasn’t closed, so as she held it upside down the contents fell to the floor.
More photos.
Kalina didn’t want to look at them, didn’t want to see or accept that somebody had been watching her that night two years ago and was most likely watching her now. It was just a chance encounter, a drug deal gone bad. It wasn’t about her. It couldn’t be about her.
But as she knelt down, picked up the first photo, and turned it so that she could see it, her heart plummeted. It was her. Today as she’d walked into Rome’s building for work; this evening as she’d stepped out of the shower and reached for the gray gown she still wore.
Her gun slipped from her hand, clanking loudly against the hardwood floor. She picked up another photo and another until she was looking at different shots of herself, naked in the shower, standing near the closet, pulling on her dress, leaving her apartment, driving her car across town to the hotel, walking into the hotel, and finally standing in the middle of the ballroom floor with Rome.
Her chest heaved, her eyes blurring and refocusing on the pictures. The room seemed to close in around her. Eerie eyes appearing everywhere, blinking and staring, watching and waiting. She fought back tears, choked to keep from screaming. Kalina wasn’t feeling crazy or on the brink of a breakdown any longer.
She felt hunted.
Chapter 7
Rome stepped out into the night air, his ears alive for sound. He’d picked up the scent as soon as he entered her apartment. Rogues had been inside, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind about that. And it was probably the same ones who’d approached her at the party.
He wasn’t surprised when Nick came up beside him, stealth-like, his body already bunched and ready to fight.
“I feel it, too,” Nick whispered. “They’re close.”
“What do they want?” Rome asked but didn’t necessarily expect Nick to answer.
“A fight. What else?”
Rome was shaking his head, refusing to believe that a fight was all this was about. Rogues didn’t need to search for ways to unleash their violence, and they didn’t normally single humans or shifters out. They were
