“Are you sure he wasn’t a redcap? Maybe he was using glamour to mask his nature.”
Annoyance tightened his features. “I’ve been on the receiving end of fairy magic enough times to recognize it. This guy wasn’t using any.”
“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Describe him. What did he look like?”
“He was a big guy, muscular like Ian.” Trevor cracked his jaw. “He did have a baseball cap, but I’m telling you, he wasn’t a redcap. I’d swear by it. They always make me dizzy, even when they’re not using glamour.”
She’d heard Ian say the same thing—the blade they carried acted as a mini warning system. She couldn’t verify their claim. Her internal system always kicked in first. Any forewarning the knife gave would’ve been overshadowed by the burn she experienced deep in her chest.
“You had your dagger?” she asked to make sure.
He gave her an incredulous look, then patted his boot. “Of course. I always carry it, except when I’m fucking or in the shower. Even then, it’s within arm’s reach.”
Harley nodded, pleased with his response, even if she didn’t need the intimate details. “What else was he wearing?”
His lips compressed. “He wasn’t a red—”
She stood on her tiptoes and fisted his shirt. “Just answer me. What else was he wearing?”
“Jeans, motorcycle boots, and a T-shirt with a screaming skull on it.”
No, please no. That was Raul’s signature outfit. Harley tightened her grip on Trevor’s shirt and tugged him closer. “Describe his hat.”
“I didn’t miss a redcap, Harley.”
She shook him. “His hat. Please, just tell me what it looked like.”
A guarded expression passed over his face. “It was black with red slashes on it.”
She released him and covered her mouth. “Oh God. Oh God.”
“Talk to me. What’s wrong? Did I fuck up?”
Harley ran across the room without answering, weaving between the guys and the few exotic dancers dressed in various costumes. She grabbed Ian’s hand. “I need to talk to you. Now.”
Ian glanced at her. The hungry look he’d held for the brown-haired stripper faded as concern widened his eyes. He lifted the woman from his lap and stood. “What happened?”
Harley led him across the room. The heavy weight of the other men’s gazes followed them. At the far corner, she covered his hand with her trembling one. “Have you talked to Cynthia today?”
“No, why?”
“You need to call her. Right now. Make sure she’s okay.”
Although that’d be a miracle. If it had been Raul who’d been with her, they’d be having her funeral instead of a wedding.
“She’s fine, Harley. I talked to her sister, Allie, less than an hour ago. Cynthia was giggling in the background as she opened presents.”
“You’re sure?”
Ian brushed a lock of hair from her face. “I’m sure. Why are you worried?”
“I talked to Trevor, and—”
“Don’t listen to him.” He shot Trevor an irritated look. “He’s lying.”
“But the guy wore the same baseball cap Raul does. Same clothes too.”
“If there even was a guy.” Ian shifted on his feet. “Look, Trevor has been trying to get me to change my mind about marrying Cynthia. He thinks I’m making a mistake. He swore he overheard her talking to some of her friends about me, saying crazy shit like she’s only marrying me for my money. That she never loved me and”—he lowered his voice—“she really thinks I’m gay.”
Harley stepped back. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me. It’s all a bunch of lies. Cynthia loves me. She told me so.” Ian ran a hand through his hair. “Lots of times.”
She glanced over her shoulder. Trevor caught her gaze. He gave a small shake of his head and turned away. She faced Ian. “I don’t know. What if—”
“No, Sis. Listen to me. Raul wouldn’t know about the wedding. We’ve kept it quiet, and the cell phones we’ve used can’t be traced. I won’t take any chances with your life or Cynthia’s.”
Everything he said was one hundred percent accurate. Ian knew how to protect his loved ones, and she’d been running for a decade. It usually took months for Raul to catch up to her. The chances he had found her so quickly or guessed at her destination when she’d never returned home before were slim to none. So why was her gut churning?
Ian bent closer. “I’ll call her and talk to her. Okay?”
She nodded.
Ian squeezed her hand. “We’ve been living in the shadow of darkness for years. I told you I won’t live in a bubble. We can’t stop the evil in this world. All we can do is hope we don’t unintentionally invite it into our homes.”
She’d heard his speech too many times and still didn’t believe a word of it. “I’m not going to the wedding. I’m leaving tonight.” Right after she unlocked Calan from his prison.
“What?” He glared at her. “You promised. I need you there.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Ian narrowed his eyes. “You’re hiding something from me. What is it?”
Harley peered around his shoulders. Nobody hovered close by. Assured they had a modicum of privacy, she faced him. “My ghost man is real. He’s not a fairy but a rider of the Wild Hunt who’s been imprisoned for centuries.”
“What?” He tensed. “Tell me everything.”
She rushed through the rest of the facts she’d learned, then waited for what he’d say.
“You believe him.”
A statement, not a question.
“He healed me.” Harley laid a hand over her heart. “He left a piece of himself inside me and calmed the burn I’ve always felt.”
“How is it possible?” The hope in Ian’s voice stirred the same in her.
“I don’t know.”
