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Rest For The Wicked(34)

By:Cate Dean


“You are a surprise.” He kissed her cheek. “A pleasure.” Then her other cheek. “And the only reason I regret leaving.” His lips claimed hers, kissing her so thoroughly she felt her knees turn to water. Gasping, she clung to him, to keep from becoming a puddle on the sidewalk. Eric tightened his grip on her, buried his face in her hair. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” she whispered. Tears lodged in her throat.

Letting go, he cupped her chin, met her eyes. “I mean it, Annie. You take care.”

She jerked out of his grip.

“If you’re trying to warn me off Claire, you can shut the hell up and start walking—”

“Whoa—” Eric caught her hand. “I know how important she is to you. I also know how much her cousin hates her.” He swallowed, and Annie felt like dirt for forcing him down that road. “You are her closest friend. That makes you a target. Katelyn was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Taking both hands, he pressed his lips to her forehead. “I can’t lose you, too.”

“And now I feel like an idiot.” Easing back, she looked at him. “Not only will I keep myself out of the deep, I’ll keep Claire out of it. You go commune with nature, or whatever you plan to do in the middle of nowhere.”

His laughter was a reward, and painful at the same time. She would miss the low rumble of it as much as she would miss him. And how stupid was it to fall for a man the night before he walked out of her life?

One of the hotel cars pulled up, the valet rushing forward to open the passenger door.

“So.” Eric walked backward, leading her toward the car. “Want a ride back to town?”

“And make out in the courtesy hotel limo?” Annie put away the ache for later. “Sign me up.”



*



Annie watched the limo until it turned the corner, refusing to cry on a public street. Even if it was deserted. She would suck it up, then get home and curl into a ball on her bed. About two days of self-pity should do it—

“Spare change, lady?”

Annie whirled and took a giant step back from the hunched figure. A hood shadowed her face, the stained cloak not an odd accessory on the homeless around here. Long, dark hair spilled over one shoulder—and that made her take a bigger step back. Natasha had dark hair—

“I know you got money, lady. Saw you get out of that fancy car.” The woman shuffled forward. “Gimme, and I won’t hurt you.”

A knife flashed in the hand reaching out from under the cloak, and the hood slipped back, revealing her thief. Definitely not Natasha. Heart pounding, Annie raised both hands, backing away from the woman.

“I’ll give you what you want. No need for violence—just give me a second—” She dug into her purse, pulled out the twenty she kept for emergencies. “Here—it’s all I have on—”

“I bet you got a fat bank account.” The knife moved closer. Annie stumbled backward—and smacked into the building behind her. The bank. “Whip out that magic card. Time to do your good deed for the day.”

“Okay—there’s no need for the knife. I’m just going to get my wallet.” She reached in, her hand shaking, finally managed to grab it, and held it up. “I’m going over to the ATM now, okay?”

The knife twitched, and Annie froze.

“Move it,” the woman said. “Before we get company.”

She herded Annie to the ATM machine. Then she slipped the knife up until the tip pricked Annie’s jaw; if her hands weren’t shaking enough before, that got them going. It took three tries to punch in her pin number—and the third time she forced herself to focus, or the machine would eat her card. Then she’d be shit out of luck.

“That’s it?” The woman pressed up against her, staring at Annie’s pitiful account balance. Her stale body odor made Annie want to recoil. “You have more—with that fancy car, you have to have more—”

“I’m sorry.” Annie eased away from the knife blade. “My friend is the one with money—I can give you—”

The woman screamed and lunged at her.

Annie retreated, arms raised, hoping the knife wouldn’t slice into something life threatening—

She tripped, flying backward. The knife thrust into the space she occupied a second ago. Scrambling to her feet, Annie ran.

She skidded around the corner, hoping to lose herself in one of the narrow alleyways on Forest. A body tackled her from behind. They tumbled to the sidewalk, Annie’s left elbow bouncing off the decorative brick. Pain radiated up her arm. She rolled over, tangled in the woman’s dirty cloak, cheap velvet snagging her good arm.