Page 5 of It Starts With A No

Go. She felt that warning deep in her gut.

Clary rubbed her hand against her arm. As compared to New York, December was a lot warmer in San Francisco. But it was still cold, and she’d left her jacket in the car.

She wasn’t sure if her shudder was entirely because of the weather, though. Go now.

“We should …” Clary trailed off when a leg emerged from the car, in faded blue jeans and a filthy white jogging shoes covered in dirt and grime.

A second later, the rest of the man followed. His oversized gray T-shirt had discolored patches on the edges of the sleeves and along the shoulder seams.

The man took two steps forward, walking with a slight limp.

Clary swallowed hard. Something about the unfolding scene didn’t make sense, but she couldn’t immediately figure it out.

It was simply another gut feeling.

The man glanced at her, then turned his attention to Mr. Anderson.

That was when it hit her.

The man didn’t look concerned or apologetic in the slightest. Instead, his thick, bushy brows were drawn together and his cracked lips set in a stiff line.

The man’s enraged gaze homed in on Seth Anderson.

Careful to avoid actually touching Mr. Anderson, Clary grabbed a fistful of his jacket. “We should go.”

“You two aren’t going anywhere.” The man reached behind him and pulled out a gun.

Clary sucked in a quiet breath.

Their assailant pointed the gun right at Seth. “Get in the car.”

Chapter 2

Seth kept his hands up as he stared at the man. The weapon isn’t the danger, his brother Zane’s voice rang in his head. The human holding it is.

So Seth’s attention remained on the man. He didn’t even glance at the sedan when ordered to get into it, and he was trying his best to ignore the fact that Clary Fiore was clutching a fistful of his jacket.

An overwhelming sour odor, like expired milk, assaulted him as the man stepped closer.

Clary Fiore inched back, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt.

But Seth remained rooted. Focus on the assailant. Not on where Clary Fiore’s hand is.

Beneath the grime on the man’s face and his unruly wavy hair that fell below his ears, there was something familiar about him.

Seth couldn’t place him, though.

Was the man one of the people who had been protesting outside his office building? Or maybe it was those green eyes …

“Get in the car!” the assailant shouted with an unhinged intensity as he shook his gun at Seth.

He’s here for me. Not Clary Fiore. No reason to drag her into this, then. Whatever this was. “Okay.” Seth took a step forward. “I’ll go with you.”

“No.” Miss Fiore’s fist curled tighter around his jacket, tightening the fabric around his bicep.

A tense, uneasiness flooded his system, locking all his muscles in place.

Despite having a gun pointed at him, Seth’s instinct was to take his attention off their attacker and get Miss Fiore’s hand off of him.

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