Fallen Darkness (The Trihune Series Book 2) (10 page)

“What the hel—” The male dropped like a stone. Lucas heaved the
zakaar
over his shoulder and walked across to the street to an area hidden from plain view. He laid him, not too gently, on the ground.

Lucas stood over the male, watching his large chest rise and fall. It wasn’t hunger for the Follower’s blood that rose inside him. He unbuttoned the male’s coat and shirt. The
zakaar’s
chest was covered with thick dark hair.

One knee on either side of the male, he placed his hands on the
zakaar’s
chest, and closed his eyes.

Chapter 21

“He’s back.” Tina whispered with a smile.

Kate resisted the urge to roll her eyes. If the man hadn’t responded to any of the waitress’s come-ons so far he just wasn’t interested. Though she’d give Tina props for tenacity.

She flashed Tina a smile over her shoulder before placing a gin and tonic with a twist of lemon—not lime because the last time the lady had lime she’d spent the whole night puking—on her tray.

Seriously, why did her customers think she was interested in any of that crap? Besides, was it really the lime, and not the shots of gin, that led to vomiting?

“He must like you,” Kate said, knowing it was what Tina wanted to hear and a complete lie. Rich Guy showed little interest in the waitress. Kate reluctantly gave him kudos for that. Most men couldn’t resist Tina when she offered them free, no strings sex.

“You think?” Tina asked, showing the first bit of insecurity.

“If he doesn’t, he’s not worth your time.” Kate concentrated on piling her tray with drinks while still keeping it balanced. She normally didn’t get cozy with the people she worked with, but Tina had made it impossible. Since day one the waitress had been sharing her life with Kate. The most intimate details. Most of which Kate wished she could unhear. She didn’t want to know about the girl’s yeast infections. Just no.

The fact Kate had never shared one solid piece of information about her own life didn’t seem to bother Tina. The girl must want a sounding board. Pathetic as it was, Kate didn’t mind. It was nice to pretend she had a friend.

“He keeps sitting in my section, so he must have feelings for me. At first, I thought he liked you. Couldn’t keep his eyes off of you.”

“What?” Kate whirled so fast to face the waitress, the vomit lady’s drink splashed on her tray.

Tina nodded. “But he hasn’t talked to you, right? Like, at all?”

Kate’s gaze traveled across the bar to the man sitting in the back table. He was wearing another look-at-me-I’m-super-rich outfit. His creased pants probably cost more than two Saturdays of tips and the sweater looked softer than any pillow she’d laid her head on.

His drink of choice, scotch. Some nights he drank practically the whole bottle. It was one of the more expensive drinks at the bar. He just reeked of money.

She hated people like that.

Suddenly he turned and their gazes met. Kate glanced away, picking up a wet cloth to wipe her tray before setting another drink on it. Tina started talking, going into a minute-by-minute spiel of every conversation they’d have. She nodded her head and made sounds of approval in the appropriate places.

The first time Rich Guy walked into the bar, he’d seemed lost or upset. She’d remembered those feelings all too well. Then his gaze fell to her chest and stayed like he had Superman’s x-ray vision. At that moment he morphed into every male customer she’d ever had, a complete and utter waste of time asshole.

She’d been happy her section had been full. Johnny and his hands had been more than enough to deal with. Who she hadn’t seen in weeks actually. Not that she was complaining. Johnny’s advances had grown worse night after night. Even if the jerk left big tips, it wasn’t worth the panic that one night he’d finally touch skin. The way his hands roamed, it was inevitable.

Her gaze traveled back to Tina’s man. She frowned. He wasn’t really the waitress’s man. Tina only wished Rich Guy was hers.

Kate hid a smirk then felt immediate shame. It wasn’t like she wanted to go home with R.G. She should wish Tina well.

“What do you think?”

“Huh?”

The waitress rolled her eyes. “Should I ask him out?”

She frowned. “Haven’t you already done that?”

“No.”

Kate raised an eyebrow.

Tina’s cheeks flushed. “I never asked him to go on a date-date.”

“Oh, well, sure. Why not?” Why did it feel like she swallowed a stone? It couldn’t be jealousy.

Sometimes Kate imagined what it would be like to be with a man. To touch without fear of repercussions.

But not R.G. No bar waitress could ever be good enough for him. He sure was nice to look at, though.

Kate couldn’t believe Tina also noticed him staring. At first she assumed it was her gloves. It happened everywhere. People were curious.

Then she studied his expression and, it was clear, his interest had nothing to do with her pleathers. His gaze on her, even when she wasn’t looking, made her warm. Like she was back in St. Petersburg standing outside at noon. She had sweated through more T-shirts when he was in the bar than at any other time. He never said anything to her, though. Always sat in Tina’s section.

Maybe she was wrong. Reading into things. More wishful thinking.

Probably was just the gloves.

“Yeah. That’s what I think,” Tina said. “Why not go for it? What else do I have to lose?”

“Absolutely.” Her stomach clenched. Enough. It wasn’t like she could date him. “Good luck,” she forced herself to say before heading out on the floor with a full tray balanced on the palm of her hand.

Chapter 22

Kate opened the side door of the church. The one she’d rigged with a strong piece of tape to stay unlocked. Once the door shut behind her, she paused, waited a full minute before making her way toward the back of the church. She’d stayed at the shelter one night before coming back to this place.

The shelter had brought back too many memories. No matter how nice the check-in lady was the walls reeked of desperation, hopelessness, despair, and urine. Her eyes hadn’t been closed for longer than a minute when a man tried to share her cot.

She’d froze. Pure panic racing through her before she remembered she wasn’t a kid anymore. After a couple well-placed punches the man hadn’t bothered her again, but going back to sleep wasn’t happening. The heavy falling snow had stopped her escape, so she’d spent the rest of the night hiding in a women’s stall.

The following day, after her shift, she’d made her way back to the church. Worry filled her. The men she’d heard talking last time would come back and find her. But when the days slipped by and nothing happened, she’d started to relax.

Cross-legged on the carpeted floor, she stripped off her jacket and sweatshirt, pulled the treat from the bag. Tonight she’d finally earned enough money for a ticket to Chicago. Kate planned to finish working the weekend. She didn’t want to leave Bev in the lurch, plus tips were higher on Fridays and Saturdays. Then she’d give her sob story to Bev and hours later be on a bus to Stacy.

Her future was within reach. She smiled.

After she found Stacy her life could truly begin. She’d put the past behind her. They’d move to Mexico, with Eddie’s help.

Kate had met Eddie when she was ten years old.

Whenever possible, she’d sit across from the downtown opera house in Chicago and watch the glamorous men and women emerge from their rich, shiny, big limos. The women wore fancy dresses with gloves similar to Kate’s, high-heeled shoes, and their hair all done up. They were everything Kate wasn’t and never would be. But it hadn’t stopped her from watching every weekend.

Eddie would show after the opera was over. The women would go home with missing bracelets or clutches. The men with no wallets. It hadn’t bothered her. Those people had more than enough money to spare. Then one night she saw a policeman walking through the crowd.

Without thinking, she gave a high-pitched whistle. Eddie turned, his gaze locked on hers, like he’d known she was there the whole time. Kate had pointed behind him. Eddie glanced at the uniform and scurried away. He returned the following weekend, would never glance in her direction unless she whistled then he’d give a nod and take off.

It wasn’t until Kate was a week away from turning eighteen that she’d asked Eddie for payment for keeping him out of jail. He hadn’t uttered a single protest.

This time around she’d be able to pay him for the new identities.

Kate arranged the loaf of bread and jar of peanut butter on the floor. She hummed quietly while opening the bread and taking out two slices. Next she unscrewed the small jar of PB and ripped off the seal, setting it face up on the floor. Then paused.

“Shiiit.”

She didn’t have a knife.

Chapter 23

He was coming in.

Kate held perfectly still underneath the thin blanket. Eyes squeezed shut. Maybe Mary would be home soon. She’d stop him.

The floor creaked.

Kate gulped. He was half way in her room now. At least he wasn’t with Stacy. She had pulled the dresser in front of Stacy’s door, leaving through the window, crawling back in through hers.

Why hadn’t she just taken off? Stayed away until Mary came back.

Because of Stacy. A dresser to the door wouldn’t stop him completely. Kate had stayed to make sure he wouldn’t go into Stacy’s room.

Another creak.

Her muscles tensed. Maybe he’d think she was sleeping and leave.

A rough, sweaty hand touched her shoulder.

Kate jerked, whimpered. She couldn’t help it.

A low chuckle. “I knew you were awake, Katie.”

Another whimper.

No. No. No.

“Were you waiting for me, Katie? Did you block Stacy’s door? Is that because you want what Randy has to give?”

Kate clutched the edges of the blanket tightly, curled into a ball.

“You’re a bit older than I like, but I’ll make an exception tonight.” The blanket was ripped from her grip. Before Kate could bolt he was on top of her. He tore her shirt. His hands grabbed her breasts. “Ooh, yeah, baby. You’re going to make Randy feel so good.” He pinched her nipple. Hard.

Kate screamed. And screamed.

She bolted upright. The scream echoed in her ears. She gasped for breath, her heart pounding.

“Are you okay?”

Kate spun. What was he doing here? She jumped to her feet, tripped over her bag strap, and went down. Hands outstretched, she caught herself on a stack of music books.

She’d taken her gloves off to wash in the downstairs bathroom after her PB sandwich. Wet hands and pleather gloves didn’t mesh, so she’d waited until her hands completely dried before putting them back on. She must’ve fallen asleep before that happened.

The pile of books began to slide. Kate registered her knee slamming into the ground before she was thrown into a memory.

A gray haired man walked toward her. Mid-fifties. Wore glasses. He reached inches from where Kate sprawled on the floor and picked the top music book from the pile Kate had knocked over, but in the vision was still stacked neatly against the railing wall. The man thumbed through it, stopped on a page, and headed to the woodened organ, securing it on the ridge above the keys. He sat on the bench, shoulders curved inward, fingers on the keys. After the first chord, his hands began to move as graceful as the ice skaters Kate used to watch at Millennium Park. The music was haunting, beautiful.

Then the man was suddenly gone. The music only an echo in her ears. The musician’s emotions still bubbled in her own chest and a tear slipped down her cheek. Ripping her hand away from the music book while keeping one eye on Rich Guy, she searched for her gloves.

Why wasn’t he saying anything?

What was he doing here?

He wore another pair of expensive pants, black this time, still sporting that strict crease down the front of the leg. Those certainly didn’t get washed in the 24-hour laundromat Kate went to. His shoes were shiny and black. A blue sweater peeked from underneath a brown leather coat, leather not pleather. His eyes were wide. Expression said he was still shocked to find her here. That wouldn’t last long. He’d call the police next.

Finally spying her gloves, she scooped them up and her coat. Without giving him any spare seconds to snap out of it, Kate lurched to her feet and bolted for the stairs.

“Hey! Wait a minute,” he called out.

Yeah, right.

She hit the last step and was out the front door, booking it across the street. Kate was out of sight within the next minute and didn’t slow until she’d cleared four blocks. Hands on knees, she let her butt rest on the wall of the building behind her. Breath sawed in and out of her lungs.

Suddenly she stiffened. Her head jerked from side to side, glanced behind her, though she already knew the answer.

She didn’t have her bag.

She’d left it.

In the church.

With all her money.

IDs.

Extra clothes.

Stacy’s picture.