by Abigail Owen
She held out her hand. “I know where your mommy is. Come with me.”
The little girl looked at her in wary distrust for a moment, but the possibility of finding her mother overruled her ingrained fear of strangers. Sarai led her around the wreckage to where the mother stood on the other side, frantically looking for her daughter.
As soon as she saw her, the woman in the red top scooped her child up in her arms, sobbing with relief at finding her alive and unharmed.
“Thank you,” she whispered to Sarai over the child’s head.
Sarai nodded and stepped back. As she did, more scenes filled her mind. If she didn’t’ leave immediately, someone would recognize her as the woman who’d tried to warn people before anything happened. Her actions would be misinterpreted, ultimately leading to a long year of blame and suspicion directed her way and eventually toward her people.
Sarai looked for George and Scott, but they were somewhere else, helping the injured. She took a step to help them, then stopped as realization struck. This was it. This horrible moment was her chance to disappear.
Without further thought, she took off down the street.
****
Zac leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled as he listened to the exchange going on across the long conference table. They’d been here about an hour, and he’d let the potential buyers know the Timik had decided not to sell. It hadn’t gone over well.
Oliver, one of the savvier businessmen among his people, was in the process of keeping that bridge from going up in flames. Negotiation was a delicate dance…and Zac didn’t dance. He stayed silent while Oliver did all the fancy talking required.
The buzz of his cell phone gave him a much needed excuse to leave. He didn’t think he could sit here listening to the whining much longer. He pulled the device out of his pocket and checked the screen. Seeing George’s name, Zac frowned.
“Excuse me. I have to take this.” He headed out to the hallway.
“George? What’s up?”
“There was an accident.” George jumped straight to the point.
Zac looked out over the view of the city through the wide windows though he didn’t really see anything. He had learned long ago not to panic, to get all the facts first. “What happened?”
“Garbage truck ran through a red light and plowed a couple of cars up onto the sidewalk where we were standing. Sarai saw it coming. She tried to warn people.”
“Is she okay?”
“We can’t find her.”
Terror slammed through Zac. “What do you mean?” he growled into the phone.
“There’s a lot of people hurt here, boss, and some still under the wreckage. We thought maybe…. But she’s not here.”
“I’m coming to you. What corner?”
“57th and Park.”
Zac hung up. He cracked the door to the conference room and beckoned to Stu, who joined him in the hall. After a quick explanation, he left his men to deal with closing the negotiations and took off to go find his cougar shifter.
He didn’t let himself even contemplate the possibility she was hurt or dead.
Not until he saw her body.
CHAPTER 17
Sarai scurried down the street as fast as she could without looking as if she were in a rush. She used the crowds as cover until she was far enough away that even the polar bear shifters wouldn’t be able to see her. Her scent was another matter. Hopefully the smells of fear and adrenaline and humanity around the scene of the accident would mask that enough for them to fail to sense which direction she had gone. At least for as long as it took to make her get away.
As she went, she removed the red hoodie she’d been wearing, dropping it in a trash can. Then she rolled up her jeans to look like capris, glad she’d decided to wear them today. Paired with her white t-shirt-style top, it looked different enough from her usual look and blended in well with all the tourists.
She spotted a stand with various New York paraphernalia and snagged a Yankees cap as she slid by. She dropped a twenty-dollar bill as she did so, not liking the thought of theft. She pulled her blond hair up under the cap.
The fastest way to her destination was to go right by their apartment. She knew no one else was there, so the risk was minimal. Holding her breath with every step, she managed to get past their building and down the street undetected. Leaving the gorgeous place with its air of quiet, old-fashioned elegance had almost broken her heart. Leaving the man that the apartment represented…far worse.
Something in her gut told her to avoid taxis, to walk, so she stayed on foot for the thirteen blocks to Grand Central Station. Every single step away from him was filled with anxiety and sorrow. Anxiety that she’d be stopped. Sorrow that she had to go.
But she had to go.
She made her way to the famous station without incident and hopped right into a short line to purchase a ticket. Scanning the boards, she picked her destination. She didn’t have the luxury to be picky about logistics, she just had to be gone by the time they tracked her here. She selected the farthest point away with the earliest departure time, according to the map on the board. The train would only get her to Poughkeepsie, but that was a start, at the very least. She’d figure out what came next when she got there.
No one disturbed her while she bought a ticket, using cash, of course. Glancing around, she found a quiet corner in which to wait. Sarai pulled her blue baseball cap down low over her eyes, her dark blond hair tucked up under it, as she settled back against the wall.
In this spot, she was fairly hard to see while at the same time she had a wide view of much of the station. She suppressed the urge to fidget while she waited to board her train. She’d come so far—further than any of her other attempts to elude George and Scott. It had been pure luck born out of tragedy.
How the hell had it come to this?
Now, she waited beside the mode of her escape. Waited to board. Waited to leave behind the one man who’d come to mean something to her, despite her determination that he wouldn’t. Waited for her visions to alter, letting her know this move would at least spare his life.
Finally, the door to the train car she stood in front of whooshed open. Sarai tossed one last glance behind her, searching the crowd. Seeing and sensing no one she recognized, she turned and climbed the steep, narrow stairs up to the second floor of the car. She found herself a seat at the very back of the compartment. She kept her face angled away from the window, just in case someone tried to find her here.
Unable to keep her nerves in check, she tapped her fingers on her jean-clad legs. After a few moments of random movements, she almost unconsciously started playing a silent version of Chopin’s Minute Waltz. A nervous habit, which helped to calm her. But she couldn’t relax—not until they pulled out of the station.
****
Zac threw money at the taxi driver, paying no attention to how much, and burst out of the cab toward the chaos that still reigned on the corner where the accident had happened. He searched the crowds for George or Scott.
He skidded to a sudden halt. Sniffing the air, he caught it again. A faint, but unmistakable scent of vanilla and woman that was Sarai’s alone. He’d recognize her anywhere. Following his instincts, he moved in widening circles following the scent, as it grew stronger until it led him to a green metal trashcan just down the street from the accident.
Reaching inside, he pulled out a red jacket with a hood that was quite familiar. Sarai wore it almost non-stop inside the apartment, claiming the polar bear shifters kept it too cold for her. To be sure, he brought the garment up to his face and inhaled. Definitely hers.
Relief pooled in his gut. She was okay.
Then rage supplanted the relief. Dammit. He’d told her not to run off. He’d been very clear about it. But she’d skipped out the second a chance had presented itself, which meant he couldn’t trust her. More than that, if he didn’t find her, get to her in time, something much worse than a close encounter with a garbage truc
k could befall her.
Zac closed his eyes, concentrating, pushing his anger aside. As he moved in circles, he caught the trace scent in two places, here and…
Zac snapped his eyes open, looking down the street the way Sarai had gone. He pulled out his cell phone. Within seconds, George and Scott were at his side.
“I thought she liked us. Why does she want to get away from us this badly?” Scott asked.
George glanced at Zac and then stared down the street. He said nothing, but Zac could tell the man who’d raised him after his parents’ deaths was angry. That he’d been duped, most likely, but also that she’d managed to lose him at all.
“Go get the car,” Zac told them. “I’ll follow her, then call to tell you where to meet up.”
****
I made it! Sarai thought with almost giddy relief. She’d come to believe it wasn’t possible, until providence had intervened. Although she felt extremely guilty that she’d benefited from the tragedy of others.
“Where, may I ask, do you think you’re going?”
Sarai closed her eyes in despair at the sound of the baritone voice beside her.
Damn. No wonder her visions of the future hadn’t altered yet.
Slowly, she raised her gaze up seven feet of muscled male to encounter eyes so angry they’d deepened from dark brown to almost black, and so cold, she shivered just a little. Despite the calm, almost bantering tone he’d used to ask the question, there was no doubt in Sarai’s mind that Zac Montclair was furious. Anger was evident in every taut line of his body.
She looked back down at her hands, now clenched and white-knuckled in her lap. Then she felt her skin prickle as he sat down in the faded gray seat beside her. She could feel the heat radiating from him, along with his wrath.
“I asked you a question, Sarai,” he said, softer now, when she didn’t respond.
But she couldn’t answer him. How the hell had everything gone so wrong? From the moment she’d met this man, Sarai had been forced into one untenable position after another. However, as she thought over the last months, there was nothing she could find—not one moment, or path, or decision—that would have prevented where she sat now from happening.
Sarai was certain of one thing. She was never going to disappear, not while under Zac’s protection. It was a matter of honor with him, and she didn’t have the skills to get away. With that recourse removed, it changed the game, which meant she had no option but to change her strategy.
She waited a moment, hoping for any changes in her visions about Zac. None came.
Taking a deep breath, she bravely looked him in the eyes and answered with total honesty. “I was attempting to disappear. Go rogue.”
She watched as the muscles in his jaw tensed so hard she was surprised she didn’t hear breaking bones.
“Why?” he asked. Barked more like.
Sarai grimaced. “I’ll tell you,” she hastened to answer. “But not here. Not now.”
She glanced around the crowded train. It appeared to be full of commuters on their way home from work after a long day.
Zac followed her gaze. Comprehension dawned. His lips clamped down, as though he were holding in his words of fury with difficulty. He whipped out his phone and gave whomever he called—George most likely—instructions to meet them at the next stop up the line. Then he leaned back in his seat, silent.
****
Zac struggled to bring his roiling emotions under control. He couldn’t decide if he wanted to shake the woman beside him…or kiss her. The longer and further he’d had to track her, the more pissed he’d gotten, his fear both righteous and driven by concern. Just because they hadn’t seen or heard from Kyle Carstairs yet didn’t mean he wasn’t still after her.
So when he’d jumped on the train just before the doors closed, then come up here to find her tucked safely into a seat, nervously drumming her fingers, anger had been his first reaction. Before he could release all that pent up wrath, she’d told him she’d confide in him.
Knocked the wind right out of his sails. Now he sat cramped up in this tiny seat not meant for a seven-foot man. The second he got her off this train and back to their apartment wouldn’t be soon enough for him.
The scent of vanilla surrounded him now. He’d followed her for blocks, through the crush of people in the station and onto the train based on only faint traces of that smell. Thank God, it had been a hot day, making her sweat, leaving behind more of herself than she would have otherwise. Now that she was beside him, all he could think to do was bury his face in her neck and inhale.
Instead, he sat in stony silence and looked straight ahead. With an irritated twitch, he loosened his tie and undid the button at his neck.
CHAPTER 18
The train’s seats were close enough that the length of Zac’s thigh was pressed against her. Sarai could feel the heat of his body through his slacks and her jeans. The day was a muggy one. August in New York was usually pleasant, but they’d had some record-setting highs. The temperatures had been in the nineties most days this week. As a shifter Sarai’s sense of smell was strong. Consequently, she was almost overwhelmed by the stench of the humans who’d walked many blocks to make it to their transportation.
Zac was probably even more uncomfortable given that he was a polar bear shifter. The temperature was nothing like his environment, where it didn’t get out of the sixties during the hottest time of the year. Cougars did equally well in the cold and the heat. However, their natural ranges were wider—from mountains, to swamps, to deserts—therefore they handled heat better.
Granted, she was pretty sweaty after her rushed walk to the train, but his inadvertent contact was making her heat up in places that had nothing to do with the weather.
In an effort to distract herself, Sarai opened her mouth to say something. He stopped her with a sideways glance. “You really don’t want to talk to me right now. When George and Scott couldn’t find you, they thought you might be stuck under the wreckage.”
Guilt swamped her. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
She slowly lowered her eyes and sat back, shoulders slumped.
“That’s why they didn’t track you right away. George is the one who taught me everything about tracking. The man’s a legend, but he was too busy trying to get to the bottom of a pile of what used to be a Lincoln Town Car to get to you.”
Sarai flinched. He was laying it on her, and she totally deserved it. Still, everything she’d done had been with good intentions. Would he see it that way after she explained?
“It wasn’t until I got there and caught your scent away from the scene that we figured out you’d left. George has your jacket by the way.”
“Um. Thanks.”
“You owe him and Scott an apology.”
Sarai frowned. “How much do you trust them?”
His head jerked to look at her. “Not funny.”
“I mean it.” She was thinking about the vision she’d had of Scott. Standing in the background as Zac, his body beaten and broken, knelt before Kyle.
He narrowed his eyes, but he answered. “I’d trust both of them with my life.”
That was good enough for her. She didn’t get the impression Zac gave his loyalty easily. So, as endorsements went, she didn’t need anything more.
“Then I’ll explain to them as well, but we should keep it just among us.”
“Why?”
But she shook her head. “I’ll explain later, along with everything else.”
A low growl rumbled from him. “Woman, you’d test the patience of a saint.”
“And you’re a saint?”
“Where you’re concerned? Definitely not.”
Sarai blinked. She wasn’t quite sure what he’d meant by that, and decided not responding was the best option. She was saved by a voice announcing that they’d reached the Harlem 125 St. Station. She shot to her feet. “Guess that’s us.”
But Zac wasn’t listening, nor was he moving. Instead, he sat
very still, his head cocked to the side. Then his face took on a hard set, as if cast from granite. He looked at her with those dark eyes that had gone deadly serious.
“We’re not getting off here.”
He pulled out his phone and talked to George in hushed tones.
Sarai sank back into her seat. As soon as he hung up she said, “What is it?”
“You can’t see it?”
Sarai’s already fluttering heart picked up speed. “No. But if you think I should, then we’re in trouble. It means something’s about to happen to me. What’s coming?”
He gave her a narrow look. “I expect an explanation of that last comment as part of your apology when we get back.”
Then he sighed. “Wolf shifters are waiting for us.” Even if he hadn’t said it with such grim certainty, a shiver would have rolled down her spine. Not good. Not good. No way was it coincidence that they’d found her here.
There was only one thing to do. She looked Zac directly in the eyes. “Take me out of the picture.”
“What?”
“If we take me out of the equation, my visions can help you figure out what to do.”
“And how do you suggest we do that?”
“Let me off the train alone. They’ll close in fast enough. Once they have me, you’ll know their numbers. If George and Scott are already there, that’s three on our side.”
“No way.”
“Think about this logically. You don’t know how many they have or what they’re planning. They can’t be sure where we plan to get off the train. This gives us the advantage.”
“No.”
Zac was so adamant that Sarai stopped trying. She snapped her mouth closed. “All right. Then what’s your plan?”
“Fight our way out.”
She cringed. She’d put them in this situation. She’d put their lives in jeopardy. Oh, the irony, since she’d only been trying to save them. “Four against however many, but we can’t shift. Not here. Not in public like this. Pretty equal odds if there’s only three of them.”
