The inconsistencies that had bothered her the night they met came back. How he’d known where her car was parked or that she had twin boys. And…
How had Rafe known where Mr. Wilkins’ house was in order to send his brother over there? She’d never told him, and her neighbor’s number wasn’t listed in the phone book. Rafe had to have investigated her.
How could she have been so foolish?
Was last night a ploy to keep her occupied so Kade could swoop in and steal her boys?
But…he didn’t. They were still there.
But maybe there was another brother waiting to grab Megan. They’d strike at once and take all three kids. The possible scenarios danced across her mind.
She swallowed down bile. “Move as many pieces of furniture as you can in front of the door and make sure all the windows are locked.” It wouldn’t stop a shifter bent on getting to them, but it was the best she could come up with. “I’m going to call Josh, and we’re going to come get you. Okay, kiddo? I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“Okay, Mom. Love you.”
She ended the call and tried Josh’s number. It went to voicemail. She cursed and sent him a text. A minute later a vibration announced his answering message. She read it and let a shuddered breath escape. He was coming to pick her up. At least there was one person in the world she could trust.
She laid Rafe’s phone on the counter and clenched her fists. Tears threatened. Anger kept them at bay. Rafe had played her. He was a liar, not the honorable man she’d thought. If he was, he would’ve told her the truth.
From the scent in her home, he would’ve known her kids were shifters. No amount of heavy soap would mask it there. She ground her teeth. She wanted to give him a piece of her mind. The need to get away from him stopped her.
She turned and caught her reflection in the mirror. With shaky fingers, she touched the edge of the hickey on her shoulder, then brushed her fingertips over the tiny cuts. Four of them. It didn’t take much to imagine the fangs that no doubt made them. That was what the sharp pinch she’d felt when he’d kissed her there was from. His fangs. She traced the length on her throat. No mark, but it too was tender and achy.
She’d had a predator’s fangs against her neck. He could’ve ripped her throat out.
But he hadn’t. He’d loved her body and left her sated.
She ignored that little voice in her heart that wanted to believe in Rafe. Just because he was good in bed and made her crazy with desire didn’t mean he was trustworthy. He could’ve told her the truth about what he was, but he hadn’t.
She couldn’t blindly trust Rafe. It didn’t matter how he made her feel. She’d get away from him and think things through once she knew her kids were safe.
With the light off, she carefully opened the door. Rafe’s steady breathing let her know he still slept. She tiptoed across the room, slipped into the hallway, and ran.
The lobby had a few people lingering around. Nobody paid her much attention, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that someone watched her. A piercing stare burned the spot between her shoulder blades, making the tiny hairs on her arms stand up. A cold lump of fear dropped in her belly.
She swept her gaze from one end of the lobby to the other. Nobody looked at her, but her breathing quickened. Her pulse sped. She was cornered.
Trapped.
The undeniable sensation grew. Stumbling backward, she hit the wall.
She glanced at each of the men in the room. Any of them could be a shifter. She didn’t know how to spot them from normal people. Look at how she messed up with Rafe. She wasn’t about to make the same mistake a second time.
The closest person to her was a skinny businessman, complete with a suit and briefcase. He had a day planner out and an annoyed expression on his face. She dismissed him as a threat and moved to the next, an older white-haired man who sat with his wife on one of the ornate sofas. He had his arm around her shoulder while she chatted on a phone. No. They screamed tourist. The only other person in the room was a middle-aged man who waited to check out, a rolling suitcase at his feet. His eyes were glued to his phone. He didn’t strike her as a threat either. So why did her skin crawl?
A tall guy she hadn’t noticed pushed away from the wall across the room. A pair of sunglasses were hooked into the neck of his polo shirt, and his chin-length brown hair had blond streaks and wisps of gray. Darkly tanned skin with fine wrinkles and a lean body suggested he was an active, outdoorsy person. Khaki shorts and leather sandals completed his outfit. The overall image was that of a well-off, middle-aged man.
His face was model worthy—a perfectly slanted nose, full mouth, and strong cheekbones—but his eyes chilled her. Dark brown, they should’ve looked welcoming but didn’t. They appeared cold. Empty. Then he blinked and warmth filled his eyes, brightening them. A smile spread over his face, and the stark expression disappeared.
It was the guy from the night before, the one who’d saved her from falling. She’d recognize those eyes anywhere. She also remembered the way he’d made her skin crawl. No, she didn’t care how inviting his grin appeared. He terrified her on a basic level. The urge to run and hide was strong. She swallowed hard and pressed her back into the wall, but there was nowhere to go. She was trapped between a potted plant and a grandfather clock.
He walked toward her with his gaze locked to hers. A hungry mask slid over his features, but it didn’t hold sexual interest, at least not a healthy kind. Demented. Sick. The
