Arms freed, Ember wiped the blood from her eyes.
She snatched back a breath as she pushed herself upright from the bin, the dead weight behind her now gone. She stared down to her right at the syringe-holding guy now flat on his back on the floor, his smashed and bloodied jaw the result of having taken an almighty blow to it. The weird angle of his neck confirmed it had been broken in the impact.
She turned one eighty and leaned back against the bin as she looked to her new right, to where her primary attacker was struggling in a chokehold. Forearm around her attacker’s neck, the guy responsible was squeezing the breath out of him.
A guy she instantly recognised.
Cold pins and needles spread over her body, her breathing the only thing she could hear.
Her primary attacker flayed in a futile attempt to free himself but her stranger’s stance and chokehold were firm and uncompromising.
He was killing him. And she simply stood there watching.
She willed herself to say something, to do something. Instead she remained silently tentative as she tried to figure out how the hell she was going to avoid being next. She glanced to her jacket laying behind her stranger, her knife still in its pocket.
A moment later, a subtle crack ricocheted around the recess. In the subdued morning light, her primary attacker flopped to the floor.
Her gaze dropped to the dead body. To both dead bodies. To her attackers he had killed without hesitation and, from what she could see, without remorse.
As her stranger clutched his side, reminding her of his injury, she took what she knew could be her only chance.
But no sooner had she skimmed past him, Ember felt an arm across her waist, a hard body against her back as she was turned one-eighty to face the recess. Lifting her left arm, she reached behind her head and grabbed hold of the hair at the back of his. She yanked as she simultaneously elbowed his wound with her right arm.
He jolted with the pain of it, but he didn’t let her go. Instead, his grip tightened as he lifted her from the ground and carried her back to the bin.
Cold metal pressing against her cheek again, Ember felt him kick her legs apart with his. He pinned her left arm down against the lid before wrenching her right arm up her back. Pressing the heel of his hand under her elbow, he pushed upwards, causing her to wince and freeze with the pain of it.
‘Let’s get something clear, Ember,’ he said, his voice as impressively – or worryingly – controlled as his restraint. ‘If I had any intention of killing you, abducting you, raping you or feeding on you, I’ve had more than my fair share of opportunities. So calm yourself down because that hurt like fuck and I will lose my patience if you attempt anything like that again.’
As he let her go a moment later, she spun to face him, her free hand clasping the shoulder he had wrenched, pain still shooting down her arm and making her fingers tingle.
He clutched his side, his scowl telling her his claim about the discomfort was true.
The glaring question became insuppressible. ‘How? How did you get out?’
He rubbed the back of his head, her clearly having made an impact there too. ‘What did you do with the bullet, Ember?’
Twice now he’d used her name. It threw her off kilter more the second time now she was able to process it. He needed information from her – maybe the only reason he had intervened. Maybe the only reason she was still alive. After all, she’d just witnessed him murder two people. Two humans.
And she’d saved a vampire capable of such. She wasn’t just in it up to her neck: she was already drowning.
‘Ember.’ His tone was as firm and uncompromising as his sullen glare as he recaptured her attention.
So much for saving his life.
She remained silent as she swayed between whether giving him the information would be her worst or best decision.
‘You saved my life,’ he reminded her, ‘and now I’ve saved yours. That means we’re even. Tell me what you did with the bullet and then we’re done.’
‘So you say.’
He took a step towards her.
Ember instantly took a backwards step in response.
‘I’m asking nicely,’ he said.
And she knew as well as he did that he had other options if she chose not to comply.
She lifted the lid of the bin and threw the bin bag towards him. ‘And just so you’re clear, I’m not going to do anything stupid over what happened here. They got what was coming as far as I’m concerned.’
And not least because of what their intentions towards Casey had been.
‘And you know where I live,’ she added. ‘You know where I work. You know who my friends are.’
‘And you can’t afford any of this to screw up your application. Not with only a few days to go.’
Her heart pounded. The fact that maybe she hadn’t been paranoid about his reason for being there suddenly unraveled a whole new nightmare.
‘How do you know about that?’
He crouched in front of the bag and split it open. He glanced up at her with a frown. ‘Seriously?’
But she waited for his answer.
He reverted his attention to searching the bag. ‘Not even whispers can escape a vampire’s hearing. Not that your friend Casey knows the definition of that word. Certainly not earlier.’
He knew her predicament. He knew about her being on the cusp of leaving.
It was getting worse; his hold over her increasing. She needed out of there. She needed out of there now.
‘In the towel,’ she said.
He glanced up at her before unravelling the coiled fabric. His pensive gaze fixed on the bullet. He picked it up with a discarded piece of lint, obviously to avoid touching the silver encasement that she hadn’t registered before.
Having received what he’d wanted, she took her opportunity to stride past him. All she could think about was getting as far away from there as possible. As far away from what she had done as possible. As far away from him as possible.
She snatched up her jacket along the way.
‘Ember.’
Her heart skipped a beat. She turned to face him.
‘My phone? My keys?’ he asked, his hand outstretched.
She reached into her jacket pocket and removed them both. She stepped towards him to hand them over.
His cold fingers brushing hers as he took his belongings from her. But then he snagged her wrist. He glanced down at the plaster she had placed over her sliced hand. His hold remained firm but surprisingly gentle, and he met her gaze again.
‘I told you: I’m not going to tell anyone, OK?’ she reiterated. ‘I don’t know who you are or what you’re involved in and I don’t care. You’re right: I’m not going to screw everything up. I just want to pretend none of this happened. I’m more than capable of pretending none of this happened. I saved your life, you saved mine, and now we’re even,’ she declared, reinforcing what he had said.
His hold remained unrelenting, his gaze entrancingly steady in the deathly silence, his handsome face still partially masked by the shadows of a dawn that had yet to encroach on the dark recess.
Discomfort coiled in her chest as fear mingled with a much more difficult feeling to swallow: the unforgiveable, disgust-inducing feeling of attraction as she gazed deep into his dark eyes. Attraction for a brutal killer – a brutal killer who still held her life in his hands. A brutal killer who may indeed only have let her live long enough to obtain what he wanted.
She tried to curb her heavy breathing but failed miserably. Flashbacks tilted the walls that closed in around them. Flashbacks that had always haunted her.
‘There won’t be any evidence,’ he said, finally letting her wrist go. ‘Of anything. I’ll sort it.’
A part of her wanted to know exactly what ‘sorting it’ involved. A bigger part clung onto the seeming reprieve. A reprieve she opted to make the most of without jeopardising it with further questions.
She didn’t remember her journey out of the recess, only the lingering sensation of his gaze burning into her back.
She didn’t remember heading up the alley or making it back out onto the main street, nor the full extent of her journey to the café. The streets had been as much a blur as the people she may or may not have passed on them.
She had a vague recollection of stopping at one point. She couldn’t recall where it had been or if it had garnered any attention. She just remembered falling against the nearest wall as the shock had set in, her legs unable to support her, her trembling hand clasped over her mouth. She’d sobbed until all the shock had released itself from her body. Her cry had been short and unsatisfying, her throat constricted and dry, and she’d taken a few deep and steady breaths to compensate. As she’d told herself over and over again: she was still alive. She had to focus on still being alive.
Nonetheless, the knot in the pit of her stomach at what she had witnessed remained. A crime she needed to report; that she was obligated to report – that her stranger would know she was obligated to report. Her stranger who, if he had any sense, would be long gone.
But that didn’t change the fact he still knew where she lived. He’d let her go because he believed he had nothing to fear from doing so – arrogance or a truce? If he’d suspected to the contrary, she’d no doubt already be dead.
Instead, they now shared a dark little secret. A dark, dirty secret she had no idea what he intended to do about.
She made her way around to the back of the café, needing to access the staff entrance as the shutters were still down at that early hour.
Seeing light spill into the corridor from Harry’s office, she called out, ‘Only me, Harry,’ so as not to startle him before making her way into the ladies.
‘Ember?’
But she didn’t hang around to respond, fearful of him seeing her shaken.
As recollections of the event set-in, as scenes played out in her head of worst-case scenarios, she grasped the edge of the sink.
‘Ember?’
It was followed by a knock on the door.
‘Ember, is everything OK?’
She always popped her head around the door when she was in early. The fact she hadn’t would have already set off alarm bells.
‘Everything’s fine, Harry. I’ll be out in a minute.’
She glanced at her reflection to see red raw eyes that would take ages to calm down. She quickly washed the dirt from her face from the scuffle, only then seeing the small graze on her cheek from where she recalled her skin scraping against concrete as she hit the floor.
‘You decent?’ Harry asked through the door.
‘I told you: I’m fine,’ she declared, splashing cold water onto her eyes.
He opened it regardless.
Ember met his concerned gaze in the mirror before distracting herself by washing her hands. Washing off the remains of the dirt. Her guilt. Washing under her ring which they no doubt would have stolen too if they’d been given a fraction longer.
He took a couple of steps in. ‘Has something happened?’
She met his gaze fleetingly again. ‘Why would it have?’
‘Ember, you look dreadful.’
‘I didn’t get much sleep last night, that’s all.’
He frowned as he closed in on her. ‘What’s that graze on your cheek?’
She instantly covered it with her hand. ‘I fainted earlier.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Fainted?’
‘I told you: I didn’t get much sleep last night. It’s probably all the stress of the build-up to yesterday.’
His suspicion emanated from his frown. ‘And your hand?’
Ember glanced down at the plaster. ‘I cut myself by accident this morning. I wasn’t concentrating.’
‘I can say you hurt yourself in the kitchen here,’ Harry said. ‘That I witnessed it.’
‘You don’t need to do that.’
‘We both know I do.’
She met his gaze, but looked away a split-second later. She nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘Ember,’ he said, closing the gap between them. ‘Talk to me.’
She dried her hands. She looked back at him. Looked into eyes as laden with concern as if he were faced with one of his own daughters in trouble.
‘A couple of guys jumped me last night,’ she said, hoping her tone made it sound less of an issue. ‘I got away. And I’m fine. Honestly. That’s why I didn’t get much sleep.’
His eyes widened in alarm. ‘Did they hurt you?’
‘No. I didn’t give them the chance. Come on, Harry – you know me,’ she tagged on, trying to raise a nonchalant smile.
It wasn’t working.
‘Why didn’t you call me? I would have come to get you. You could have stayed at mine.’
‘Because like I said, I’m fine. Harry, you know I’ve had my fair share of scrapes over the years. I know how to look after myself. I’m shaken up but nothing more. If it wasn’t so close to my application, I would have already brushed it off by now.’
His brow remained furrowed. ‘Did you know them? I mean, have you seen them before? Could you identify them?’
She refrained from mentioning one of them had been chatting up Casey – had been in that very café. She didn’t want word getting back to her. She didn’t need to know. If they had got away, she would have felt compelled to tell Harry – to have raised vigilance in the café, to have warned the others to keep a look out. But those responsible were gone. They were dead now. There was no need for anyone to know – not even Harry.
‘I know that ring is a double-edged sword for you, Ember, but at least they didn’t steal that.’
As his gaze remained weighted with concern, Ember discarded the towel she’d been clinging onto and turned to face him fully.
‘Anyway, I don’t look like the only one who hasn’t slept.’
‘Don’t change the subject, Ember.’
‘I’m not. So how about you talk to me, Harry?’
She folded her arms. She leaned against the counter. Because something was wrong. Now her shock was waning in the face of safety and familiarity, she could feel it.
‘You’re probably going to hear anyway,’ he declared with reluctance lingering in his resolve. ‘There are a few rumours on the circuit. Word of some gang interest building in the area.’
She stood upright, her arms dropping back to her sides. It was a rumour none of them needed to hear. ‘Which gang?’
‘The Hordas clan.’
‘But this area is small fry. They’ve never shown an interest before.’
‘Exactly. It’s just a rumour. No one’s confirmed anything.’
‘Have you been asking around?’
‘Yes. And we all agree it was probably something that started in a pub somewhere. You know what it’s like. That’s why I don’t want you worrying about it. And I want you to come back to ours after work tonight. The girls won’t mind bedding in together. You can have a room to yourself.’
‘Harry —’
‘Please, Ember. I know you’re supposed to stay put at home in case the authorities call around to do one of their checks, but if by some coincidence it happens to be tonight, you can tell them you were assisting with paperwork – maybe even with preparing to hire a new assistant manager to take over from you,’ he tagged on, his voice lifting as if surprising himself that he’d come up with a good excuse. ‘That would be feasible.’
She held his gaze in the silence, tuned in to the dripping tap; the countdown of only a few days left to survive in that place. ‘If you’re sure.’
He gave one of his rare offerings: a smile. ‘I’ll cook something. The girls will want to say goodbye to you anyway. You may not get another chance over this next week.’
She knew she wasn’t going to get the last word on it.
He pulled away.
‘Harry…’
He turned to face her again.
‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Decide if you’re still grateful after I’ve fed you,’ he said as he headed to the threshold. ‘After all, it’s been a while since you’ve sampled my cooking.’
She laughed lightly. As he left, she reached up to her neck to find the reassurance of her pendant.
Her heart plummeted. She flattened her palm to her chest. She spun to face the mirror again. She yanked the collar of her shirt down.
It had gone.
All she had left of her, and it had gone.