Page 33 of Savage

Now why did an overwhelming part of me actually believe that?

I had no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.

Another ding, doors opening, and we were off, though not to anywhere as loud as where we’d entered. It was quiet, too quiet, and I wondered if Lachlan could hear the way my heart pounded with every step I took.

Somewhere safe,I told myself,that’s all this is.

But all I could see behind this blindfold were the images of my trashed apartment. It wasn’t like I had much, but the little I owned had been strewn everywhere. I hadn’t thought anyone followed me that night in the alley, but obviously I was wrong. Had they been following me all this time? They wanted the key card. That had to be it…right?

Even Lachlan seemed to recognize the symbol, which raised a whole other set of questions if I came out of this alive. Hell, maybe that would bemysuperpower—putting myself in danger and surviving by the skin of my teeth. That was what journalists did to find the truth.

No. I’m going somewhere safe. Somewhere that isn’t my trashed apartment.

They hadn’t entered through the front, that was for sure—I would’ve endured a thirty-minute rant from Ms. Edith on havingvisitors when I wasn’t home—so that could only mean they’d entered through my window. Same as the stranger I’d happily welcomed.

There was no wayhewould’ve done it, though. He’d had every opportunity to hurt me or find what he was looking for when I was flat on my stomach and bare-assed. No need to break in and trash the place.

No, this was all connected to the group I’d been tracking since I left Colorado. I’d bet money on it.

A lock clicked, something opened, and then Lachlan said, “You can take that off now.”

I ripped the blindfold off and blinked under the assault of the brightly lit room. Well,roomwas putting it mildly—the place was huge, especially by New York City standards. It was sheer golden opulence, from the chandeliers to the ornate sofas and artwork splashed along the textured walls. Thick velvet floor-to-ceiling curtains covered most of one wall, and I had a feeling they were blocking out one hell of a city view.

I let out a low whistle as I walked farther inside, set my laptop aside, and let my backpack fall from my shoulders onto one of the chairs. All right, so maybe I’d been worked up about nothing, because this was definitely an upgrade from my shitty studio. Was this Lachlan’s place? Why had that required a blindfold? Unless he just didn’t trust that I wouldn’t become some needy guy who showed up unexpectedly.

My eyes were drawn to an abstract landscape painting in a heavy frame, and my brow furrowed. “You know, no offense, but I wouldn’t have thought a place like this was your style.”

“It’s not.”

I whirled around to face him. “This isn’t your apartment?”

“No,” he said, making a sweep of the rooms that branched off the main living space.

“Where are we?”

Lachlan paused in a doorway. “It’s better if you don’t know.”

“Why’s that?”

He shook his head. “You’re somewhere safe. That’s the important thing.”

“So if the situation were reversed, you’d go along with whatever I said, no questions asked?”

A low chuckle rumbled out of him as he slid his hands into his pants pockets and crossed over to me. Given the situation, the last thing I should be doing was checking him out, but Lachlan Stone filled out a suit to perfection. I’d forgotten just how good looking he was.

“No,” he said, “I wouldn’t.”

When I opened my mouth to respond,Then why should I, he held his hand up.

“I know you have questions, but now’s not the time. I need to meet with my team and brief them on the situation. Try to make yourself comfortable. No one will bother you here.”

Comfortable? No problem. The place looked like a high-end suite at a hotel. Comfort wouldn’t be an issue.

As Lachlan walked back to the door, I couldn’t help but let my gaze drift down over him. The man looked as good leaving as he did coming, and my brain went straight to the gutter. But the one chance I’d had to call him and ask for a date I’d let slide, and instead only called him when I needed him in a professional capacity.

Way to go, moron.

But it wouldn’t have been fair to call him up when my mind had been so consumed by my mystery man. Whom I’d now miss if he decided to pay me a visit again. That was, if he wasn’t the one who’d wrecked my apartment in the first place.

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