Mr. Halliman’s voice I recognized even as he came around the corner nodding and looking rather pleased. “Good, good. I knew you would be an excellent addition.”
His words faded to a shrill ringing in my ears as I stared at his companion. He was long and lean, towering over Mr. Halliman who wasn’t much taller than my own five-foot-two, with an air of classical handsomeness. I could see why Beth and the other girls called him a hottie, but that wasn’t why I stared. Above his light brown hair floated a number I had never seen before, a 10 that seemed to blaze with searing heat.
I jumped when the phone hit the desk with a clatter. I glanced at the phone and then back up. Mr. Halliman and the man were both staring at me. I could feel my cheeks warming as I hurriedly mumbled an apology and picked the phone back up. The whales were still singing.
“Miss Hope.”
I jumped again, almost dropping the phone a second time, as I realized the men were now standing by my desk. I met Mr. Halliman’s concerned gaze and forced a smile. “Yes sir?”
“Have a puppy brought to Miriam’s meeting. It will smooth things over.”
“Yes sir, right away.”
Feeling watched, I hesitantly peeked up only to freeze under blue-green eyes that looked more green than blue at the moment. They were piercing and considering as he studied me with an intensity that made my muscles tense with the urge to flee.
I quickly looked down again and prayed he couldn’t hear how hard my heart was pounding. Everything in me screamed at me to run, but I forced myself to stay perfectly still in the chair. Mr. Halliman and Mr. 10 entered the lobby, their footsteps loud against the marble floor, as they headed for the elevator. But not before Mr. 10 stopped in front of the statue of Hermes positioned in our lobby. I tore my eyes away from him and stared unseeing at my notepad. It was all I could do to sound normal when Sally herself got on the phone. My mind whirled with one question. Did he know what I was?
* * *
One month later . . .
My heart was in my throat as I forced myself to walk into the lobby of the exec level. The statues of Athena and Demeter framed either side of the doors separating the lobby from the main floor while Hermes and Pan bracketed the elevators. If I went to the glass railing, I would be able to see out over the main lobby and the fossilized remains of a sea monster that hung from the building’s ceiling. A rather poignant reminder of what happened to paranormals who got caught.
Taking deep breaths, I tried not to look too anxious as I used my temporary badge to let myself into the doors. Sharon, Mr. Halliman’s senior assistant, had needed an extra body for the receptionists since two of them were out sick. The doors closed behind me, sealing themselves with an audible click, leaving me with a distinct trapped feeling. But Mr. 10 wouldn’t be on this level. He and Mr. Halliman had completed their inspection of the firm’s security risks and were no longer meeting as often. I had already peeked at today’s list of expected visitors and confirmed no one from security was scheduled to come up. Of course, it would have been easier to check if I knew his name but the mere thought of showing any interest in a 10 made me want to find the quickest way out of the city. Maybe it was a superstition. Yet, I still remembered stories that if you showed interest in a high number, then they would track you down simply to determine if you were prey or competition.
Reaching the receptionists’ desk, I couldn’t help marveling at the quartz surface set on top of polished mahogany that was divided into two large sections. It was the perfect match to the marble floors topped with lush Turkish rugs. I almost didn’t dare sit in the chair directly facing the doors with its leather shine but when I did . . . Oh, it was heaven!
After checking the notepad for instructions and important details, I settled into my temporary desk. I couldn’t hear any voices from the various offices, and other than the occasional sound of steps moving from rug to marble and back again, it was almost too quiet. After an hour of directing a few calls to the appropriate department heads, I pulled out my personal phone. I had been checking the classifieds since my first, and hopefully last, encounter with Mr. 10 for a new job. As much as I hated the idea of leaving a place where I had almost started feeling at home, the risk of Mr. 10 figuring out what I was and what I could do was far too terrifying to ignore. My apartment wasn’t as expensive as some, but even with savings I couldn’t afford to move until I had a job lined up. Preferably one that was on the other side of the country from Olympia and Halliman’s dangerous security consultant, but not too close to Chicago where Weard Enterprises made its headquarters.
My scrolling slowed when I came across a help wanted ad for a PR firm based in Jackson, Mississippi. I thought I recognized the founder’s name as a dragon shifter family. But, it was associated with a security firm run by Unseelie Fae. The Fae were one of the designated ambassadorial species that norms were still aware of in the world. However . . . security firms made me leery since they usually ended up having some sort of connection to Weard Enterprises. I started scrolling again when I heard something.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
I looked up and froze. Harry Smalls was tapping on the doors with an oddly intense expression on his face. I couldn’t remember the last time I had ever seen him look intense. He was one of the bland type of personalities you forgot was in the room unless he spoke. He oversaw the logistics team for northwestern USA relocations, now he simply looked off. He was swathed in a stained trench coat that was too long for him. I thought he was out sick.
My eyes widened as I looked at his number. On a stressful day, Harry registered as a 3. Most of the time he was flickering between 2 and 3. Today . . . Today his number was a sickly glowing green, and it was an 8. I had never seen numbers show up in anything other than some shade of yellow. And, I had never seen anyone’s number leap up five levels.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“Miss Hope! What are you doing? Why aren’t you letting him in?”
“He’s not on the list.” The words fell out of my mouth, but I still couldn’t look away from Harry and his diseased looking number.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Harry called up last night. The Logistics Exec is expecting him. Let him in.”
I shook my head, still staring at Harry’s number. When I finally tore my gaze away from the sickly green 8, I looked into his eyes. Vacant.
Sharon bustled over and bumped me out of the way so she could hit the buzzer to unlock the doors. I grabbed for her hand a moment too late, shouting, “No! Something’s wrong!”
It was too late. Harry yanked the glass doors open and ran toward us even as Sharon was turning toward me, displeasure written across her face. His right hand had been inside his trench coat the entire time and he yanked it out, knuckles white from the pressure of his grip on a hand axe. The axe swung through the air and shattered a small marble statue of Demeter sending shards flying everywhere.
Sharon was staring at Harry. She wasn’t moving. Leaping to my feet, I grabbed her by the arm and pulled. Sharon had three inches and a good thirty or so pounds on me, but I managed to drag her to the floor and shoved her under the relative protection of the desk. We both screamed as another statue was thrown against the wall showering us with shards of glass. I reached for the silent alarm and my fingers felt nothing but smooth quartz. Oh no.
The sound of pottery shattering covered my hiss as I cut my palm on a piece of glass. Sharon’s pretty white braids had fallen over her face. Even with her dark complexion, she looked ashen. I raised a shaking finger to my lips and she nodded. We both flinched at the sound of something crashing on the desk. Maybe, one of the computers.
Heart pounding in my throat and blood rushing in my ears, I crept from beneath the first division. Sharon’s fingers caught in my blouse, and I looked back at her. She was shaking her head, and I forced myself to pat her hand. I really hoped I came across as more confident than I felt. Another statue hit the back wall and shattered sending crystal shards flying. Several pieces stung against my right cheek.<
br />
I forced myself to crawl past the heavy carved division between the two sides of the desk, keeping as close to the desk as I could. So far Harry hadn’t come around the desk, but if he did before we could get help . . . A sob of relief rose in my throat when I spied the small black button on the underside of the desk. My chair was in between the button and me. I froze, listening. I couldn’t hear anything breaking. No footsteps. I looked again at the button. I had to take the chance. Shoving the chair hard, I lunged forward as it spun away and slapped the silent alarm.
Fingers buried in my hair and a scream burst from my throat as I was yanked up. Sickly green met my gaze first, and then I locked eyes with Harry. Still so vacant even as his upper lip curled into a quivering snarl. He raised the hand axe and I thrashed, ignoring the pain in my scalp as I struggled to break his grip on my hair.
“Hope!”
I barely registered the voice barking my name before Harry was ripped away from the desk. An involuntary scream escaped me as he pulled out hair when he was yanked away. I caught the glimpse of cold determination in a face I could never forget before my legs gave out.
There was the sound of cracking bones and my stomach turned. Then, Mr. 10 was crouched in front of me. “Are you all right?”
His eyes looked blue today. The inane thought was clearly a sign of shock. I managed to nod as more voices and pounding footsteps filled the air. Security and paranormal authorities swarmed around us.
Buzzing filled my ears again as I numbly watched Mr. 10 help Sharon out from under the desk and comforted the older woman with surprising ease. Blankets were wrapped around us as the firm’s medics arrived from the fifth floor and assessed the damage. My cuts were more superficial than anything, and Sharon had a bruised knee from me dragging her to the floor. Otherwise, we were unharmed.
We were escorted into a meeting room and waited there to be interviewed. I finally stopped shaking after the first two hours. I gave statements twice, first to our firm’s security and then to the authorities. Fortunately, Mr. 10 wasn’t the one who conducted the interview. I hadn’t seen him since the medics first arrived. As the friendly officer finished taking notes, he studied me closely. “Mrs. Pope stated that you tried to stop her from buzzing the suspect into the offices. Why was that?”
“I . . .” I could hardly tell them that Harry’s number had changed and turned almost infected in appearance. I swallowed hard, then took a sip from my water bottle. “I just thought he looked off. I mean he wasn’t on the official list of visitors for today’s schedule and the way he was staring through the doors was . . . wrong. I was worried, and I didn’t want to buzz him in without putting security on the alert first.”
I closed my jaw with a snap to cut off the flood of words before I inadvertently revealed myself. Fortunately, the officer didn’t seem to notice. He nodded. “I understand. Well, let’s be grateful that you were so observant and willing to risk going after the alarm.” He paused and then added, “Although, I think you should be even more grateful for your security’s swift response.”
I offered a tremulous smile. “I am. Thank you. Is there anything else?”
“No, that’s all. We will be in touch when the court case is prepared.”
I murmured my thanks again and rose on shaky legs. I still didn’t see Mr. 10 anywhere, but Mr. Halliman was waiting. Worry lines carved furrows in his brow as he clasped my bandage free hand. “Miss Hope, I am relieved you are all right. Don’t worry about work for the rest of the day. You can go home if you prefer and don’t come in tomorrow if you don’t feel up to it.”
A smile pulled at my lips as I nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Halliman.”
Taking him at his word, I quickly collected my things and walked into the lobby. For a moment I considered taking the stairs, then the image of shadowy figures in the stairwells rose in my mind. I opted for the elevator.
I was shaking again by the time the elevator reached the below ground parking. I hadn’t seen anyone and the thought of escaping to the quiet of my apartment was more appealing by the moment. I pulled my keys out of my purse only to drop them. Picking them up again, I clenched them in my left hand. After taking a few breaths, I was able to move without quite as much shaking.
The sense of relief only lasted the few moments it took to approach my car. My steps slowed and panic started beating its frantic wings against my ribs when I saw him. Mr. 10’s long frame didn’t make him seem any less imposing as he leaned against my car. He nodded to me as my feet carried me closer. “Hope.”
Before I could even think of something to say, he spoke again. This time his words dropped the floor from beneath me. “I know what you are, Hope.”
* * *
Chapter Two
Lauren
“I know what you are, Hope.”
It took everything in my power not to fall to my knees and beg for a mercy I doubted I would find. My heart beat faster against my ribcage, and my hand tightened around my keys causing them to dig into my skin. Mr. 10 was still watching me. He hadn’t moved a muscle, but I felt like he was a cheetah poised to pounce . . . or perhaps a sphinx. His blue-green eyes were too watchful as I shook my head. “I, um, no. I don’t know what you are talking about.”
I gestured to my car as I added, “I think you are confused, and I am going home now.”
He didn’t move. If anything, his gaze somehow grew more watchful . . . more measuring. I wondered if my ribs would crack as my heart continued beating crazily. Somehow I managed to make myself take a single step closer to my car, keys still choked in my grasp. I just had to get away from him and then I could have enough time to come up with some sort of cover story. He couldn’t know.
It took far too much effort to keep myself from glancing at his number. I knew it wouldn’t have changed. It would still be that same flickering 10. His number never seemed to change. Clearing my throat, I forced my lips to curl in a shaky smile. “Please. I don’t know what you are talking about and I . . . I would like to go home. If you would just . . . move so I can . . . go.”
Mr. 10 shook his head but he sounded almost . . . pleasant when he said, “I am afraid I can’t oblige you, Hope. Because I know that you do know what I’m talking about, and you know exactly what it is too.”
I shook my head. “No. No, you’ve . . . you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I have no idea what you want. Whatever it is has nothing to do with me. I gave both security and the authorities all the information I could. I don’t know why you followed me.” Gathering my quivering spine, I forced myself to step closer to him as I stretched my hand out for the door handle. “Now if you please . . .”
My voice trailed off as my keys fell to the pavement. Mr. 10 finally moved, but he only bent to snag my keys up. He held them out to me still watching me closely. My fingers trembled despite my best efforts as I reached for them. The moment I grasped them, he bent his head toward me. Oh, he was tall. I tilted my head back slightly to meet his gaze. His eyes looked more green than blue in that minute and almost too . . . nice as he said in a low tone, “It is well within your rights to continue pretending that I have no idea what I’m talking about, Hope. However, if that is your choice, it then becomes my obligation to report both your existence and your utter failure to cooperate to my employers. You understand this, don’t you?”
I froze, still holding the keys, as I stared into his intense gaze. For the briefest moment, the idea flashed through my mind of kicking him and then fleeing from the parking garage. I could find a taxi to take me to my apartment and grab my go bag, then head to the airport. Even as I considered it, however, it was immediately chased by the memory of how fast Mr. 10 had moved when he took down Harry Smalls. I hadn’t even heard him arriving before Harry was ripped away.
Not to mention the fact that even if I kicked off my heels, he would likely overtake me in no time at all. He towered over me and that meant a long stride. I was trapped.
Looking into his eyes, my lips finally moved. “Please.�
�
Mr. 10 let go of the keys, and I clutched them to my chest as I closed my eyes. I didn’t know what he was going to do, but it was over now. Weard would learn I was a Spotter and if he didn’t take me in himself, Mr. 10 would likely stop me from leaving until someone did come to take me. There was nothing I could do about it. I wasn’t a particularly powerful paranormal, certainly not enough to escape a man who had already proven himself as dangerous as his number warned.
I could still feel his warm presence in front of me. If I reached out, I could touch him without even fully extending my arm. I thought I felt something touch my hair and I flinched. Then his accented words carried to me once more as he said, “Perhaps if you agree to a private conversation, I wouldn’t be compelled to report you.”
Opening my eyes, I stared up at him. “You are attempting to blackmail me. Why not just use force?”
Something flickered in his eyes and he leaned back giving me just a little more room. “I would prefer not to twist your arm on the matter, Hope. However, I fear you would attempt to flee the state, if not the country, if I didn’t hold you to a meeting.” He paused, giving me another long look, before adding, “Believe me when I say I have no intention of using force against women in general or you in particular. The exception being those women who like to turn men to stone. I would be obliged to use force against them.”
His accent still sounded delicious, and the faint quirk of his lips made the tension in my chest unknot a little. My sense of self-preservation was defeated by an accent and a little dry wit . . . I had definitely spent too much time in one place. Yet, I found myself almost smiling back at him.
Rogue Spotter Collection Page 2
