Breaking Point (51 page)

“Of course,” she said, reaching for her purse.

Axton insisted they do their best to abide by human laws, to blend in with their human neighbors. She pulled out her perfectly valid Pennsylvania driver’s license, hoping Justin would do the same, eager for any hint to his identity, any clue why he hadn’t been found before now.

He smiled at the waitress. “Thanks.”

The blonde cocked her hip, pulled a pen from her stack of hair. “Anything else?”

His grin was quick and charming. “I’ll let you know.”

Oh, he was smooth, Lara thought as the waitress sashayed away.

“So, Lara Rho.” He stretched his arms along the back of the booth, his knees almost-not-quite brushing Lara’s under the table. “What brings you to Norfolk?”

You.

Bad answer.

“Um.” She inched her foot closer to his across the sticky floor, hoping that small, surreptitious contact would give her the answers she needed. “Just visiting.”

“For work? Or pleasure?”

Her toe nudged his. A buzz radiated up her leg, as if her foot had fallen asleep.

Deliberately, she met his gaze. “That depends on you.”

His tawny eyes locked with hers. The tingling spread to her thighs and the pit of her stomach.

“I’m done working,” he said.

Her mouth dried at the lazy intent in his eyes. “Won’t they be expecting you? Back at the boat?”

“Boat’s been delivered and I got paid. Nobody will care if I jump ship.” He smiled at her winningly. “I’m a free man.”

She moistened her lips. “Isn’t that convenient.”

No one would miss him if he disappeared tonight.

Her heart thudded in her chest. All she had to do was identify him as one of her own kind, the nephilim, the Fallen children of air.

From his corner, Gideon glowered, no doubt wondering what was taking her so long.

If only she were more experienced . . .

The waitress returned with their beer, two bottles, no glasses.

Lara gripped the slick surface and gulped, drinking to ease the constriction of her throat.

“Let’s get out of here,” Justin invited suddenly.

“What?”

He reached across the table and took her hand, wet from the bottle. An almost visible spark arced between them, a snap of connection, a burst of power. Shock ripped through her.

His eyes flickered. “You pack quite a punch.”

So he felt it, too. Felt something. Hope and confusion churned inside her. She dampened her own reaction, feeling as though her circuits had all been scrambled. The air between them crackled, too charged to breathe.

“I . . . You, too.”

Her heart thudded.
He was not human.

Or only partly human. His elemental energy beat inside his mortal flesh.

But he was not nephilim either. She didn’t know what he was.

His energy was not light, but movement, swirling, thick, turbulent as storm. It swamped her. Flooded her. She clung to his hand like a lifeline, focusing with difficulty on his face.

“. . . find someplace quiet,” he was saying. “Let me take you out to dinner. Or for a walk along the waterfront.”

“What are you doing?” Gideon demanded.

Lara flinched.

“Who the hell are you?” Justin asked.

Gideon ignored him. “Are you
trying
to call attention to yourself?” he asked Lara.

Lara tugged her hand from Justin’s, her mind still stunned, her senses reeling from the force of their connection. “You felt that?”

“They could feel you in Philadelphia,” Gideon said grimly. “Shield, before you get us both killed.”

Justin’s eyes narrowed. “Look, buddy, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but—”

Gideon gripped Lara’s elbow. “We’re getting out of here.”

Justin rose from the booth. “Take your hands off her.”

“It’s all right,” Lara said quickly. She struggled to pull herself together. “I know him.”

Justin’s mouth tightened. “That doesn’t mean you have to go with him.”

“Try and stop her,” Gideon invited.

Lara shook her arm from his grasp. “That’s enough,” she said, her voice sharp as a slap.

Gideon met her gaze. “Your little energy flare just gave away our location. This place will be crawling in an hour. We need to leave before they get here.”

Lara’s throat constricted. “What about him?”

“Is he one of us?”

Not fully human. Not nephilim either.

“No,” she admitted.

“Then lose him. He’s not our responsibility.”

He was right. She was still new to her duties as Seeker, but the Rule of the community, codified over centuries, was clear about their obligations to keep and preserve their own kind. And the dangers of getting involved with those who were not their kind.

Yet. . .

“Give us a minute,” she said.

Gideon’s face set, cold and rigid as marble. “Five minutes,” he acceded. “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Where he could guard the entrance and scan for danger. She nodded.

With another glare at Justin, he left.

“Are you okay?” Justin asked.

“Fine,” she said firmly, whether it was true or not. Why had she felt the pull of his presence if she wasn’t meant to find him?

“Listen, it’s none of my business,” he said. “But if this guy is giving you a hard time . . .”

His willingness to look out for a stranger shamed her. Especially since she was about to abandon him to his fate.

“Nothing like that. We work together,” she explained.

He looked unconvinced.

“What about you?” she asked.

He frowned. “What about me?”

Who are you?

What are you?

“Will you be all right?” she asked.

“I think my ego will survive being ditched for another guy.” The glint in his eye almost wrung a smile from her.

She bit her lip. Their enemies would be circling, drawn by that unexpected snap of energy. She already had to account for one mistake. She couldn’t afford another.

Besides, he was not one of them.

He would be safe. He had to be.

“Right. Well.” She slipped her purse strap onto her shoulder. At least now she didn’t have to drug his beer.

“Take care of yourself.”

As she slid out of the booth, he stepped back, lean and bronzed and just beyond her reach. “You, too.”

She walked away, reluctance dogging her steps and dragging at her heart.

 

JUSTIN WATCHED HIS plans for the evening walk out the door with more regret than he had a right to. Her tight butt in that slim skirt attracted more than a few glances. Her fall of dark brown hair swung between her shoulders. The woman sure knew how to move.

He shook his head. He’d known she was slumming when she came on to him that afternoon. Presumably she was going back where she belonged, with Mr. Tall, Blond, and Uptight.

He hadn’t lost anything more than half an hour of his time. So why was there this ache in the center of his chest, this sense of missed opportunity?

He took a long, cold pull at his bottle, his gaze drifting over the bar. He’d been in worse watering holes over the past seven years, before he got his bearings and some control over his life. Worse situations, in Puerto Parangua and Montevideo, in Newark and Miami. He drank more beer. He fit in with the surly locals and tattooed sea rats better than pretty Lara Rho and her upscale boyfriend ever could. But he didn’t belong here. He belonged . . . The beer tasted suddenly flat in his mouth. He didn’t know where he belonged.

He set down his bottle. He didn’t want to drink alone tonight. And he didn’t want to drink with the company the Galaxy had to offer.

Careful not to flash his roll, he dropped a couple of bills on the table and walked out.

Nobody followed.

Outside, the sky was stained with sunset and a chemical haze, orange, purple, gray. The day’s heat lingered, radiating from the crumbling asphalt, sparking off the broken glass. He headed instinctively for the water, free as a bird thanks to the coworker boyfriend with the ponytail, trying to figure out what to do with the rest of his evening.

Or maybe his life.

Beyond the jumbled rooftops at the end of the street, he could see the flat shimmer of the sea. He passed a homeless guy huddled in a doorway, clutching a bottle, watching the street with flat, dead eyes. Something wrong there. He kept his arms loose and at his sides as the pawn shops and tattoo parlors gave way to warehouses and razed lots.

His neck crawled. Alley ahead. Empty. Good.

He lengthened his stride, taking note of blank windows and deserted doorways. Good place to get jumped, he thought, and angled to avoid the dirty white van blocking a side street.

He heard a thump. A grunt.

Not his problem, he reminded himself. None of his business.

A woman’s cry, sharp with anger and alarm.

Shit.

He circled the van, shot a quick look down the street.

And saw Lara Rho backed against the brick wall of an empty lot with a couple of rough guys circling her like dogs.

Berkley Sensation Books by Pamela Clare

EXTREME EXPOSURE
HARD EVIDENCE
UNLAWFUL CONTACT
NAKED EDGE
BREAKING POINT