Page 14 of The Shadows We Keep

My grip loosens from around the corrugated knife handle when they step out of the darkened alcove and walk toward the bar. I point the tip to my thigh, applying just enough pressure that the sharpness digs into my dark denim without puncturing the skin beneath.

Spinning the knife back-and-forth calms me as his hand finds her lower back, guiding her away from the dance floor toward the bar.

“Another whiskey, sir?” A sultry voice comes from my left, and my gaze swings from my girl below. The waitress’s eyes heat as she takes me in, but I’m not interested. I switch my empty glass, ice clinking against the sides, for the full one she offers from her tray. Reaching into my pants, I snag a couple of bills and hand them to her with a note.

“Do me a favor, darling.” She quickly nods her approval, eyes wide with hope. “Give this note to the short, dark-haired girl down at the bar over there for me.” I jut my chin in her direction and drop the white note card on her tray.

Her face falls.

“Uhm, I’m not supposed to leave the members only area.” Her irritation rises at my dismissal.

“You’re actually supposed to do as I request, as I’m a member of this club. Don’t forget that.”

Her chin dips with embarrassment. She knows I’m right. I had to pay a hefty price to get in here, but it’ll be worth it in the end.

She scurries away from my section, and I watch as she basically runs across the dance floor to the bar.

Whispering in my girl’s ear, she hands over the little white note, then gestures in my general direction. I don’t flinch because I know she can’t see me from the ground floor. The man she’s with turns around with her drink and she quickly hides the card in her bra. Sneaky, sneaky, my little dark one is.

My phone vibrates, pulling my attention from downstairs. A notification from my system running an information sweep back home. Her work’s database gave me enough to do a basic search online, but all I got was a couple online profiles for different social media accounts. All it did was pique my interest further.

So now I’m looking deeper, public records, birth certificate. Maybe she’s got a marriage license out there. The notification tells me I’ve got something, but the file won’t transfer to my phone. I’m desperate to get out of here and find out what it is, but I won’t leave her in his hands. I don’t know where this innate need to watch over her and protect her has come from, but I can’t ignore it.

Standing, I shove my phone back in my pocket, finishing the last swig of my whiskey before heading for the stairs that lead down to the first floor. I scan the crowd from my bird's-eye view, figuring it’ll be easier to locate them up here, but she’s gone.

Fuck.

I take the stairs two at a time, heaving my thick leather jacket on to my body and pulling the fabric hood up. I slam my hand down on the bar. “The girl that gave you her jacket? She come grab it yet?”

He looks down under the counter and his eyebrows crinkle.

Fucking hell.

“She must have had someone else grab it for her.” He shrugs and gets back to taking drink orders for two blondes at the other end of the bar. I swear to God if she left with that fuckwad, I’m going to lose it.

Watching her with the random stranger unlocked something primal within me. The burning rage that roared to life the moment they tucked into the dark alcove under the cage, left my fingers itching. I wanted to rip her from his clutches, and use my blade to slice off the fingers he dare lay on her. The dark image sends my moral compass spinning wildly. She’s cracked something open inside of me, and it doesn’t look like I’ll be shoving it back anytime soon.

Heading for the exit, I pass the hall for the bathrooms when a tall blonde in a short black dress catches my eye. Her friend steps out of a doorway and my chest relaxes as she follows right behind her. The blond guy her friend’s been with all nightstands against the wall across from the women’s bathroom. His friend is nowhere in sight.

Keira lifts on her toes and pecks a kiss on her friend’s cheek, whispering something quickly in her ear before heading in my direction. I drop back into the crowd, waiting for her to pass me. Once she does, a magnetic pull drives me to follow her home.

The frigid air hits as I catch the heavy door seconds before it closes all the way. I’m a few paces back, but she doesn’t stop in front of the club for a cab, which would be a complete waste of money considering we only live two blocks down. But at one in the morning, it’d still be a safer bet.

She hunches into herself as the wind whips down the street, but her stride never slows. One block to go, she stills. I tuck myself against a barbershop’s sign that protrudes from the side of a brick building. Her face is cast in shadows as she checks behind her, but the street is empty. She waits just a little longer before running across the street to her block.

Slowly lurking behind her, I see Luigi’s neon sign light up her body as she stands typing in the password for her walk up. I wait in the recess of the building next door until the click of the lock slides free and the door closing pulls me out of hiding.

My hand rushes out to stop the door from shutting all the way. I peer down the dimly lit hall. The linoleum floor is stained and scuffed to hell from years of wear. As I make it to the stairs, I notice they’re covered in a hideous pea-green, paisley carpet runner.

This place looks like its last update was in the seventies and no one’s bothered to clean it since then. My body heats with anger as I climb the stairs floor after floor. It’s not abnormal for New York to have walk-ups, especially in smaller buildings. But the paint is peeling where it’s not stained from greasy fingerprints. I can’t believe she lives in this dump.

The stairs stop on the third-floor landing, and I hear a jingling to my left. Peering around the corner, I see her three doors down before she gets the door unlocked and steps inside. Waiting a beat, I weigh my options: continue down this obscure path, or turn around now, chalk this up to a mental anomaly, and leave the poor girl alone for good. A deep breath brings with it the realization that there’s no choice to be made. The latter is the only answer for our situation.

I count the doors as I pass by, making sure I’ve got the right one before I drop to a knee and press my ear to the door. There’s no shuffling from the other side. Sliding my tension wrench and pick from my pocket, I quietly force the pick to the back of the lock before applying pressure with the wrench. Within second I hear the click and twist the handle; the door pushes open.

I stop it before it gets too far and strain to hear her inside. Another door slams and the soft melody of music plays muffled through the apartment. I step through the front door, twisting the handle as I slide it closed, making no noise as it latches shut.

I creep quietly down the hall on my toes, praying this old ass building doesn’t have squeaky wood floors. No such luck. Just as I get to her living room, I can see her bedroom door is open. My foot stops as the floorboard gives, and the sound is deafening. By the grace of whatever is holy, her shower turns on at that exact moment. My shoulders fall and I let out the breath I’d been holding.

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