She’d heard of this only once before. Her great-grandmother on her mother’s side was also a Shadow Walker and had also been an accomplished thief. That was where their similarities ended, however; to hear the story told, her great-grandmother stuck to jewels and absolutely loved thieving. It was said she wore so much of her pilfered booty she jangled when she walked.
Green Eyes addressed her directly. “You like to play games, don’t you.”
It was a statement, not a question. Beneath the soft tone of his voice, she felt the challenge and also sensed a dark, growing undercurrent of excitement.
Holding his gaze, she leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs. The shirt rode up even higher on her bare thighs, and that searing gaze flickered down to her legs. When his gaze traveled back to her face, it was bright and burning hot.
It did something to her, that look. An old memory flickered in her mind, beautiful dark eyes that looked at her with that same, fevered hunger. She quashed it as quickly as it surfaced.
The memory of those eyes and who they belonged to was even more dangerous than capture by humans.
“I like to do all kinds of things,” she answered, staring unsmiling at him. “What did you have in mind?”
He stiffened. His nostrils flared. Judging by the sour tang that suddenly permeated the air, she’d really pissed him off. In one swift motion, he shoved away from the wall. “Everyone out,” he snapped. He crossed his arms over his chest and stood staring at her, his face now hard as a slab of granite.
“Edoard,” Chubby protested, turning to him with knitted brows, but Green Eyes cut him a glare so vicious he snapped his mouth shut and rose stiffly from the chair.
“
They stared at each other for what felt like an hour. The only sound was the whisper of air through a ceiling vent. A muscle in her bicep began to cramp and twitch, and she longed to stretch her arms overhead and massage it. But of course, the handcuffs prevented it.
Then into the tense silence he abruptly said, “What are you?”
Not who, but
“You heard me,” he said, unmoving. He looked at her—really
“What I am is hungry, hurt, and not in the mood for word games,” she said flatly, trying to keep the sharp pang of worry she suddenly felt out of her voice.
He just stared at her.
Her gaze skipped away from his and fell on the small camera above the door. There were no shadows in this harshly lit room; they’d have her on video now for sure.
Seeing the direction of her stare, Edoard turned, walked over to the door, reached up, and flipped a switch on the side of the lens. A tiny red light beneath the camera faded to black.
Her brows shot up.
He turned back to her with that intense green gaze and leaned over the back of the chair his chubby companion had just vacated, his knuckles white as they gripped the curved metal. Beneath the glare of the fluorescent lights, his brown hair shone a beautiful shade of burnished bronze.
“You’re different,” he accused, startling her again. “
“Is this an interrogation, or are you trying to ask me out on a date?” she said coldly.
His face hardened. He straightened and crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Interview,” he said, looking down his nose at her. “It’s called an interview. If this was an interrogation, there would be pain involved.”
“There
Again, he didn’t take the bait. His mouth just puckered as if he’d been sucking on a lemon. “You’re lucky Jean-Luc gave you his shirt. I’d have hauled you in as naked as we found you, and your bare behind would have been on public display for all those reporters. Your bare behind would have made the cover of
Eliana flushed. “Charming,” she muttered. She sat upright and adjusted herself in the chair so her tailbone wasn’t flush against the cold seat. Her entire rear end was numb. And her leg
“You’re the one who likes being naked so much. And I may be rude, but I’m not stupid,” he rejoined. Something odd had crept into his voice, and she glanced up to find him still staring.
“I know who you are,
Eliana waited, a growing sense of dread gnawing at her stomach.
“Even ghosts get bored.”
He smiled, and the predatory curve of his lips sent fear lashing along every nerve ending.
“Every theft was a little more daring than the last, a little harder,” he continued. “Either you were getting desperate, which didn’t seem likely as you weren’t under any heat from us, or you needed a challenge. It was me who predicted
Cameras? Special cameras? She couldn’t be seen on cameras—
“He’s still holding a grudge over two Picassos you stole from his house while he was sleeping,” Edoard continued in a conspiratorial tone, as if they were two girlfriends talking over cocktails. “In fact, he’s given us carte blanche to do whatever is necessary to get them back, along with the rest of the things you stole, some of which were from his personal friends.
An interrogator with the green berets. High-tech cameras. Several things clicked into place, and the fear simmering in her bloodstream rose to a dark, violent boil. Her stomach lurched.
As an afterthought he added, “Did you know the word torture comes from the French word meaning ‘to twist’?”
His lips curved into a dark, triumphant smile, and she went ice cold.
“You’re bluffing,” she said, pulse racing. “You can’t lay a finger on me. There are laws against that, and the entire world saw you take me in—”
“I won’t go into the particulars of how photon cameras work, but the images are quite interesting, to say the least,” he interrupted as if she hadn’t spoken at all. He uncrossed his arms and pulled out the chair opposite hers,