“No way.” Silver again. He shook his head, blue hair dancing over his forehead and temples. Then he glanced over at me, studying me with unwavering intensity. “Why would you date her?”
Erik shrugged, the action stiff. “Why does any guy go out with a particular girl?” His tone was dry and mocking this time.
For the second—third?—time that day, tears burned in my eyes. I let my head fall into the crock of my uninjured arm. He was letting them think he was dating me—no, sleeping with me. To save me? If so, great.
However, his attitude cut as deep as the Lancer. He spoke like I wasn’t good enough to be in the same room as him. Like I didn’t deserve to breathe the same air. Like he was using me.
“I just wish the sex was better,” I mumbled, pain giving me courage.
Erik blinked down at me. Silver lost his shocked expression and grinned.
“I do not like this,” Half-Mask growled. “You know better than to bring a girlfriend to our business meetings, Erik.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” Erik didn’t sound like the boy I often overheard in the halls at school. He sounded like a grown man, respectful but in no way submissive. “I should have realized she’d follow me.”
“I should kill you both,” the man muttered.
“I’m your best employee,” Erik replied without emotion. “But more than that, her disappearance would cause unwanted media attention.”
Half-Mask sighed and replaced the material over his face. “You’re right. Just…get her out of here. Take her through the back; I don’t want anyone to see her injury. If she talks…”
“She won’t.” Erik leaned down and wound his arm around my waist, careful not to touch my wound. He hoisted me up. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Unable to hold back my whimper this time, I swayed against him. Blood trickled down my arm, my body weakening with every second that passed. A tear finally spilled over and ran down my cheek.
“Come on,” he said, leading me forward.
“Wait.” Even though I was eager to escape, I dragged my iron-heavy feet. “What about Shanel?”
A muscle ticked below Erik’s eye. He flicked a glance to Silver. “Will you make sure the friend gets home?”
“Safely,” I added, not that anyone paid me the slightest bit of attention.
“Not the redhead who always stares at me,” Silver said on a groan. “Anyone but her.”
“She’s the one,” Erik said. “Please.”
An exasperated sigh. “Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Just warn me the next time you start seeing one of the Invisibles.”
“Safely,” I insisted.
“Yes,” Silver replied, rolling his eyes. “Safely.”
Erik started walking forward again. No longer protesting, I gave him most of my weight. A strange fog was working its way through my mind, leaving a thick, black web behind.
“Erik,” Half-Mask called.
We stopped. The abrupt action jolted me and I hissed. “Sorry,” Erik muttered to me. Then, “Yes?” he said to Half-Mask.
“I would be very disappointed to become the focus of A.I.R. scrutiny. And you know what happens when I’m disappointed.”
“You have nothing to worry about, sir. I have as much at stake as you do.”
“I’m a vault,” I said weakly. “Secrets are safe with me.” I closed my eyes and my head lolled against Erik’s shoulder. I think an eternity passed before we stepped out of the building and into the night. Warm, clean air brushed against my bare skin, against my arm, and I wanted to scream at the sharp ache it caused.
“Which one is yours?” Erik asked.
I grit my teeth to cut off a moan. “Not mine. Shanel’s.” I don’t know why I felt the need to point that out. Like he cared who the car belonged to. “The black sedan.”
“Do you have any idea how many black sedans there are?” He growled low in his throat, exasperated, irritated, clearly pissed. “Open your eyes and at least point me in the right direction.”
I did, on both counts, then closed my eyes again. How could such a small injury be so painful? How had such a promising night morphed into such a nightmare?
He led me to the car and held my hand out for fingerprint ID. My arm was so shaky I couldn’t hold it up on my own.
“Now tell it to open,” he commanded.
“Open,” I said.
Nothing.
Erik uttered another of those menacing growls. “Is it programmed to accept your voice?”
“Yes.”
“Then speak as strongly as you can, so the car recognizes you. Standing out here in the open is dangerous.”
I forced a rush of air from my lungs and said, “Open!”
The car door popped open and Erik settled me into the passenger seat. “Tell the driver door to open now.”
“Open,” I said, even weaker than before. That door, at least, obeyed and soon Erik was settled beside me. “Accept new voice,” I commanded before he could instruct me. I wasn’t a complete idiot. Most days.
“Start,” Erik said, and the engine instantly roared to life. He programmed in a destination and we were off.
As the car rolled along the streets and highways, heavy silence surrounded us. I was finally alone with Erik Troy, just like I’d dreamed. Yet I’d never imagined these circumstances. Me, injured and covered in blood. Him, both my tormentor and my rescuer.
“That was cruel,” I said.
“What?”
“The napkin.”
He didn’t reply.
His silence hurt. Would it have killed him to apologize? To explain?
I kept my eyes closed and my head against the seat rest. A little while later, the whoosh of fabric cut into my thoughts, and then I felt something cool pressing against my arm.
My eyelids sprang apart and I gasped. Erik was leaning toward me, doing something to my wound. “Stop that,” I commanded. “Whatever you’re doing, stop.”
“It needs to be done,” he said flatly. “You’re still bleeding.”
He had taken off his shirt—and was bare from the waist up—to apply pressure to the injury. I wish I’d had the presence of mind to enjoy the sight of his tanned skin, hard muscles, and a black cat tattooed on his roped stomach. As it was, I would have rather been lying on a gurney, an IV in my vein.
“Are we going to the hospital?” I asked hopefully.
“Hell no.” He scowled at me. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you have any idea what you could have ruined?”