His keen eyes tracked the woman in a black coat as she hurriedly crossed the street. He was seeing things. Besides, as far as he could see, the woman had a short bob, the hair stopping a few inches above her shoulders. Mentally shaking his head, he purged his thoughts of her. It was all his imagination. Luna Rhoades was not halfway across the street from him. She was all the way across the country. And he hoped the cold-hearted, icy bitch would stay there.
Chapter Two
Luna’s blood roared in her ears and her stomach tightened as she crossed Broadway. Her knees were shaking so bad she thought she would collapse in the middle of the busy intersection. Miraculously, she continued walking towards Third Avenue. As she got to the little bus shelter, she braced herself on the wall; her breathing heavy, sending little puffs of clouds into the air.
The man she saw was definitely Killian Jones. Or whatever his real name was. She was crossing Lafayette Street when she spied the familiar tall figure in the navy-blue coat walking uptown. She followed him for a few blocks and told herself it was to make sure it wasn’t him. But, when he suddenly walked to the other side of the street, she saw his profile—dark brows, aquiline nose, firm mouth, and a strong, square jaw that the shadow of a beard couldn’t hide. If she had come any closer, she probably would have gotten a whiff of his fresh, morning rain-scented cologne. That was definitely Killian, and as soon as she confirmed it, she turned tail, crossing to the other side of the street from him.
The M03 bus arrived, heaving as scores of people spilled out. She got on, and a nice-looking young man stood up and motioned to the seat he had been occupying. Nodding her thanks, she eased onto the seat grateful for the chance to get off her feet. Chasing Killian for five city blocks hadn’t been easy, and as she was going to spend another couple of hours on her feet, sitting down for a few minutes would make a big difference.
As she watched the city go by, her exhausted brain filled with questions. What was Killian doing in New York? Did he know she was there? Was he after her? She thought putting an entire country between them would mean never seeing him again. After all, it was his fault she was in this situation in the first place. Shit.
She would have to avoid Union Square now just in case he hung out there. She didn’t want to see him and most of all didn’t want to feel that flutter in her heart when she realized he was right there in front of her, close enough to touch. Dammit—she spent all these months hating him, hardening her heart, and all it took was one glimpse of him to undo all her work.
The bus lurched as the driver announced her stop through the crackly overhead speakers. Luna made her way to the front exit and as soon as the cold air hit her face, she took a deep breath to get ready for her sprint to work. Emerald Dragon was three blocks away and she was already fifteen minutes late. Mrs. Tan would not be happy.
“I’m sorry!” she said as she breezed through the doors. Brenda Tan, the owner of the restaurant where she worked evenings, gave her a disapproving look from where she stood next to the doorway to the kitchen.
“You’re late,” the older woman huffed, her eyes narrowing as she watched Luna take her coat off and hang it on the rack.
“The bus was late,” Luna muttered.
“Next time you come in late, you’re fired,” Mrs. Tan threatened in a booming voice that belied her small stature. Luna nodded apologetically and then made her way to the server’s station to get ready for her shift. As she put on her apron, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Have some tea.” Mrs. Tan stood before her, offering her a thermos. Though her brows were drawn in a scowl, her voice was gentle.
“Thank you,” she whispered, the metal cylinder slowly warming her hands. Mrs. Tan was a terror, but Luna knew that she had to be otherwise her employees wouldn’t respect her. Emerald Dragon had been around for decades and it wasn’t just because of the delicious, authentic Cantonese cuisine they served. Mrs. Tan ran a tight ship and didn’t hesitate to fire any employee for any misstep. The woman was strict, but she was also fair and Luna had witnessed her generosity on more than one occasion.
“Fetch the new batch of tea in the storeroom for me,” Mrs. Tan commanded as another employee scurried by.
“Yes, Mrs. Tan,” she answered, knowing what the old woman meant. Going to the storeroom meant an extra five minutes of alone time where she could sit and compose herself. Walking down the hall to the rear of the restaurant, she opened the door to the stock room and made a beeline for the chair near the rack of spices and sauces. Unscrewing the top of the thermos, she took a sip of the tea, the liquid warming her insides, but not calming her.
Dammit to hell. Killian was in New York. Her hands shook as she sat down on the rickety, plastic chair. Luna gulped hard, trying not to let the tears spill down her cheeks. No. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry anymore. Not for him. He was responsible for her predicament. For everything. She’d lost her job, her beautiful apartment, her wonderful life, all because of Killian.
How she wished she’d never met him.
That night at the gala when she’d seen the mysterious man looking at the Gastlava Tapestry, she’d felt drawn to him. Mustering all her courage, she’d gone over to talk to him. And then she took him around the museum, showing him all her favorite places. God, he was so handsome and charming. And she’d fallen for it; hook, line, and sinker. He’d had no trouble reeling her in.
Of course, she’d resisted at first. It wasn’t appropriate for one thing, seeing as Killian’s company was supposedly going to be a big donor. It took a few days, of him pursuing her, calling her, coming to visit her at lunchtime until she’d agreed to a date. And of course, she’d slept with him on that first date. They’d barely made it into her apartment.
The bustling sound outside the stock room shook her out of her thoughts, and she stood up, grabbed a bag of tea and headed out. Luna made her way to the front of the restaurant, taking a deep breath to prepare herself mentally for her long shift.
***
“Aiyah, that stupid cook!” Mrs. Tan raved as Luna mopped the floor. Most of the other servers and staff had gone home, but Luna elected to stay a few minutes to make up for the lateness.
“What’s wrong, Mrs. Tan?” Luna asked, putting the mop aside.
“That cook made too much fried rice again. So wasteful.” She shook her head. “Here,” she handed Luna a large paper bag. “Take this home.”
“Oh, I couldn’t—”
“Take it!” The older woman insisted. “Otherwise, I’ll just throw it away.”
“Thank you.” Luna accepted the bag. This wasn’t the first time Mrs. Tan had given her food to take home. It seemed every other week or so, some employee would make a mistake and order too much of something, or someone would cancel delivery whenever Luna would be working. While she initially felt embarrassed, she couldn’t say no to free food. Not when her funds were dwindling and she was starving all the damn time.
“Now go home,” Mrs. Tan urged, her voice softening. “I’ll finish up. Staying out late is not good for—”
“Thank you,” she said, interrputing her boss. Turning around, she grabbed her coat and slipped it on. With one last wave to her boss, she left the restaurant and headed towards the bus stop.
The scent of fragrant fried rice rose from the bag and filled her nostrils, making her stomach grumble. She was starving. The last thing she had eaten was the staff meal she’d quickly scarfed down in between serving tables. The rice could last her two meals at least. Well, it could, but she’d probably finish the whole thing in one sitting.
Luna laughed bitterly. If her mom could see her now. But, no, she didn’t know about what had happened. No one would. She’d moved across the country so no one back home would see how far she had fallen. Sure, she wasn’t that high up in the first place.
Julia Rhoades was a struggling single mom who was doing her best to support her daughter when their family imploded. She worked hard to put food on the table by cleaning houses and picking up odd
jobs here and there. One day, she’d been lucky enough to have been hired by Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Van Der Meer, a wealthy couple who had no children of their own. They liked Julia so much they invited her to be their full-time housekeeper and to live with them. Luna had grown up in their mansion in Portland’s affluent Lake Oswego district. The Van Der Meers took a liking to Luna. Growing up, they’d introduced her to music, art, and culture—things she would never have known as the child of a single mother who cleaned houses. She especially took a liking to art and would spend hours in the extensive library, staring at books filled with paintings by DaVinci, Picasso, Vermeer, and other great artists.
Thanks to the Van Der Meers, she graduated from the Portland Art Institute without any debt. They also introduced her to the curator of the Portland Art Museum who took her on, first as an executive assistant. Luna worked hard, making her own way until finally she became one of the youngest curators in the museum. That’s why it was so hard to tell her mother and the Van Der Meers about her fall from grace. She was grateful that her boss was able to keep things out of the papers, otherwise—
The headlights to her right startled her, and she stood there rooted to the spot in the middle of the crosswalk. It happened so fast, the pain barely registering as the car hit her body, sending her flying towards the pavement.
A scream piercing the air. Feet pounding the pavement. Bodies surrounding her. Though her vision blackened, Luna could hear all these sounds, mingled with the constant din of sirens, traffic, and people around her.
“Has someone called 911?”
“Did you get the plate number?”
“It was a Honda, I think. Dark blue. I think the plates were blocked out.”
“Motherfuckin’ hit and run.”
“Bastard.”
As Luna opened her eyes, she saw half a dozen figures around her. Who said New Yorkers were indifferent?
“Lady, don’t move! The paramedics are on their way.”
“Oh, Lord. She’s pregnant!”
Luna’s hand immediately went to her rounded stomach. She waited for pain, for the sensation of sticky blood on her thighs as she’d seen in all those movies where the woman loses her child after falling down the stairs or slipping on a wet floor. But she felt nothing. She took a deep breath and sat up.
“I said don’t move, lady!” one of the bystanders said.
“I’m fine,” she assured them. Was she?
“You got hit by a fuckin’ car, and you think you’re fine?”
“Maybe she hit her head,” someone offered. “She’s in shock.”
Whoever said that was probably right. Luna was in complete shock. She wobbled slightly but was able to get to her feet on her own. Brushing the side of her face, Luna felt the syrupy blood on her fingers. Gross. She wiped it on her coat and gently touched her fingers to her face, searching for the wound. But, she found none. In fact, her face was clean—no gashes, no wounds, no cuts, not even a scratch. What the hell was going on?
A movement in her belly made her gasp, and her hands immediately went to her stomach. The baby kicked for the first time! Was he or she okay? Or was this the beginning of a miscarriage? It kicked again as if to tell her that everything was okay.
“The EMTs are almost here!”
“Lady, you need to sit down or something.”
“No!” she protested, placing her hands protectively around her stomach. “No doctors. Please.” She didn’t have insurance. The cost of the ambulance ride alone would cripple her financially. She’d been saving every cent she could all these months for the baby. She was all right. Maybe she wasn’t hit by a car and she just fell. Yeah—that was it.
“Lady—no! Where are you going?”
“I’m going home,” she declared, turning around and walking away from the crowd that had gathered.
“What the fuck, lady?”
“What do you mean, going home?”
“Oh, Harold, can you believe it? We have a real New York story to tell when we go back home to St. Louis.”
Luna picked up her pace, running towards the first subway entrance she could find. When she got through the turnstiles, she breathed a sigh of relief, knowing for sure no one would follow her. As she stood on the platform, Luna ran her hands all over her body. No broken bones, no sprain, not even a scratch anywhere. She felt okay, maybe a little lightheaded, but no pain at all. What the hell was going on?
Sixteen weeks. She was sixteen weeks pregnant and just got hit by a car, yet she escaped unscathed. When she left Portland, she was flat broke from all the lawyer’s fees. No one would hire her on the West Coast, so she went to New York. Her last bit of money went towards bus fare, food, and lodging. There was no money for doctor’s visits or vitamins. An old classmate helped her out and put her in touch with a small gallery in New York. They hired her, but only part time and for a massive pay cut with no benefits Night shifts at the restaurant helped her meager income though it wouldn’t be enough by the time the baby came.
And now this. Was there something wrong with her? She laughed out loud, startling the homeless man sitting in the corner. Well, at least she wasn’t hurt and didn’t need to go to the doctor. She should be grateful and leave it at that, right?
Chapter Three
“Bye, Boss,” Evie said to Killian as she headed out the door.
“Good luck on that audition!” Meredith shouted. “I mean, break a leg. Oh my God, did I just jinx you by wishing you good luck? Oh, fuck nuts, I’m sorry!”
Evie laughed. “No, Meredith, that’s for when you’re in the theater.”
“Oh good,” Meredith sighed in relief. “Well, go and kill ‘em.”
“I will!” With a final wave goodbye, she disappeared.
“Wow, she’s only been here two days?” Quinn said as he looked around the office. The boxes and the clutter were gone. The reception area looked like a real office lobby and there was now space for people to sit on the couch. Evie had even rescued a potted tree from the dumpster out back and placed it in the corner.
“Yeah, she’s got the magic touch,” Killian said. He knew hiring Evie was a good idea. She’d already re-organized the file cabinet, chuckling as she undid Meredith’s unique filing system.
“And Connor?” Meredith asked. “Still no sign of him?”
“Where is he staying these days?” Quinn added.
“He’s around,” was all Killian said.
Truth be told, he wasn’t sure. When they moved to New York, they all found their own homes. At least Killian and Quinn did, the latter having bought himself a nice loft in SoHo from his share of Archie’s estate. Connor, however, with his restless nature, preferred to stay in hotel rooms, moving every couple of weeks. Killian wasn’t sure where he was staying now, but he kept in touch via text. Did Connor really hate Evie that much? Damn, his brother was stubborn, but he was going to have to show his face eventually.
“So, what have you two been up to?” Killian asked, changing the subject.
“I had this hot date last night,” Quinn said. “We had dinner at Nobu.”
“Daric took me to Paris for dinner,” Meredith said smugly.
“You’re such a one-upper,” Quinn moaned. “We can’t all have warlock husbands with super transportation powers, you know.”
“You’re just jealous my date probably ended better than yours,” she retorted. “Did you get lucky at least? At five hundred bucks a pop, dinner at Nobu should warrant you at least a handy.”
“I’ll have you know—”
A knock on the door followed by the jiggling of the doorknob made all three Lycans stand at attention. Years of training, of always keeping their senses on alert for danger, made them all eerily still and quiet.
Meredith pointed to the door indicating she would open it. Good idea. A woman might make an intruder let down his guard which would make him easier to disable. Killian nodded and stood to the right of the door while Quinn planted himself on the opposite side.
Killian wat
ched closely as Meredith turned the knob. The door swung open to the left side which meant he couldn’t see who it was.
“Can I help you?” Meredith asked.
“Where is Killian? I need to see him.”
That voice. No. It couldn’t be.
“Who are you? Hey, you can’t come in here!”
Killian held his breath, waiting for what would happen next and then there she was, standing in the middle of his reception area. Luna Rhoades. She was wearing a black coat, and her beanie had gone askew over her head. Her platinum blonde locks now stopped short at her jawline, and he realized it was her he’d seen the other day. Did she see him? Follow him back to the office? What did she want?
“Where is he? I need to see him now,” she said. “I need to—”
“I’m here, Luna,” he said, barely able to get the words out. Hate filled his veins like ice. Yet, he couldn’t form the words ‘I hate you’, not even in his mind.
Luna’s violet eyes grew wide when they landed on Killian. He didn’t miss the dark smudges under them nor the unusual pallor on her sunken cheeks. If she’d been miserable any time during the past four months, then she deserved every goddamn second of it.
“Killian,” she said breathlessly.
“What are you doing here?” He crossed his arms over his chest. “How did you find me?”
“I saw you the other day by Union Square,” she said. “So I waited for you this morning and followed you back here.”
Killian gritted his teeth. After the day he thought he saw Luna, he couldn’t help but pass by Union Square every single chance he got. He told himself it was just to make sure she’d been a figment of his imagination.
“You know her?” Meredith asked.
He ignored the shock and surprise on his siblings’ faces. “Tell me what you want and then get out,” Killian said in a cool voice.
Killian's Secret: The Lone Wolf Defenders Book 1 Page 3
