Now he and Eve were to be thrown together once more. Only this time, he would be the one judging her true ability. And she would not fool him. He wondered if she ever really had. Perhaps he had known and had simply chosen to keep the information to himself…to protect her.
In any event, things had changed. His assessment would not be influenced by childish delusions.
To a certain degree, she was now the enemy.
He would be her judge and her executioner, if necessary.
When he would have turned the corner from Broadway onto St. Charles, two men stepped out of an alley and blocked his path. The dim glow from the streetlight scarcely offered any real illumination, but his night vision rivaled any technology the military possessed. Light was not required.
“Gimme your wallet, man,” the taller of the two growled. He waved the knife in his hand for emphasis.
According to Aidan’s research, this area of the city had a much lower crime rate than certain others. That these men would attempt to mug him surprised him to some degree.
“Is this your usual territory?” he asked the man who’d spoken. Not that it mattered, really; he was merely curious.
“What the hell you talking about? Territory? Just gimme your freakin’ wallet!”
“Yeah, man, maybe you don’t like your face the way it is,” the other one offered as he, too, showed off his weapon of choice.
Aidan frowned. The weapon lacked any length to speak of. Perhaps a four-inch blade. Foolish choice, in his opinion. “Contrary to popular thinking,” he said to the second fellow, “size does matter when choosing a weapon.”
The taller one lunged for him. Aidan stepped aside in a flash of movement, allowing his adversary to hit the sidewalk face-first. The other made his move then, but he was too slow in addition to lacking a suitable weapon. Aidan grabbed his wrist, twisted viciously, snapping his arm with little effort. The pathetic excuse for a switchblade clinked to the ground seconds before its owner crumpled, howling in pain.
“I’ll kill you!”
The first man had regained his footing and was making another dive for Aidan. One swift kick and he was on his knees. A well-placed blow to the back of the head and he wouldn’t be getting up again this side of daybreak.
Aidan walked away, leaving the one writhing in agony and the other unconscious.
He decided that the crime statistics of this city couldn’t be trusted, which wasn’t an actual problem but more of a nuisance.
Continuing along the tree-lined avenue, he watched for the side street that would take him to the eighteenth-century villa-turned-apartment building. The mansion sprawled around a lushly landscaped rear courtyard, which greatly increased its value, according to the real estate information he’d perused on the Internet.
As he approached the building from the rear access, he didn’t fear being seen since he wore all black—shoes, slacks, shirt and the full-length duster. He reached into his duster’s interior pocket and removed the slide card required to open the electronic lock on the back gate. The technology worked much like the keycards on hotel rooms, only this one was a little more high-tech. Excellent security, unless one gained access to the necessary computer chip. Duplicates could be made of anything if one possessed the right technology. He had not needed to bother with a duplication since he had leased the only vacant apartment.
Inside the enormous courtyard, Aidan paused to survey the area that apparently appealed to the wealthier of the species. Lush plantings, along with a large, ornate fountain, gave the space a tropical feel. Admittedly, the area presented a certain atmosphere of luxury. He turned his attention to the balconies overlooking the courtyard.
Darby Shepard occupied the apartment on the third floor to the left of the building’s rear entrance. Despite having moved in only a couple of days ago, a box of blooming flowers tumbled over the lacy ironwork enclosing the balcony. He looked to the empty balcony to the right of hers. That one would lead to his temporary quarters.
He studied the windows on either side of the French doors on her balcony and calculated that the window between their balconies looked directly into her bedroom. She would be sleeping there now. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, reaching toward her room. Yes, she slept. He sensed no movement of her mind.
In his experience, even his elevated skill didn’t allow him to read a person’s every thought, especially if they blocked efficiently. He could, however, sense mood and emotion, even intent, quite easily. Thoughts were more difficult. Broadcasting was far easier than reading. She would block him the instant she sensed his awareness level, but he had years of training under his belt that she did not possess.
He would be the stronger one.
Not bothering with the interior stairwell that would lead to their apartments, he scaled the vine-covered trellis. He braced one foot on the edge of his balcony and the other on hers so that he could peer through the window of her bedroom.
To his surprise the window wasn’t even closed, much less locked. He pushed the window inward a bit and surveyed her room. The bed stood across the room directly in front of his position. Her hair spilled across the white pillowcase. It looked longer than he’d expected. In the recent photos he’d seen, she’d worn it up in some fashion. But now it was down and splayed over the pillow next to her like a veil of silk. Her long legs looked golden against the white linens that barely draped her body.
Eve was no longer the little girl he remembered. She looked very different…very attractive. His mouth parched as if he’d been many hours without drink. But he had not. This was a physical reaction to her beauty. Just
