Page 38 of Blackwicket
“You were supposed to wait for me at the lounge,” Inspector Harrow admonished, pulling me into him until my side was pressed against his, possessive. “Who are these deadbeats?”
His voice was dangerous, tinged with a jealousy that posed an explicit threat in its own right. I could have moved out of his grasp and shattered the facade with my disgust, but Harrow’s presence was making these men uneasy. His angle was foggy, but I was a beggar, and he was doing something for me. I briefly wondered how much it would cost.
“We didn’t know the lady was unavailable,” said the younger man, hands shoved deep in his pockets, almost like a child. I considered his face, noticing he barely wasn’t one.
“I’m glad I could clear it up,” Harrow drawled, dismissing them with a quick gesture of his head. “Now fuck off.”
“Sure, Victor.” The man who’d meant to stab me, raised his palms to show they were empty. “No problems here.”
They slunk off, the youngest glancing back, resulting in his companion giving him a swift box to the back of his skull. Once they were out of earshot, Harrow’s voice reverted to its emotionless cadence: logical and unbothered.
“It’s in both of our best interests if you stop looking like you can’t stand that I’m touching you,” he muttered, steering me to turn to the street with the press of his palm against my lower back.
“I can’t control my face that easily,” I snapped, angry that I felt relieved to still be alive, that it had been Harrow who’d made sure I was.
“Then for the next few minutes,” he said, walking me into the street, waving to stop oncoming traffic. “Think of your old beau. What’s his name… Ben.
As we finished crossing and stepped onto the other walkway, I wondered if Ben would have been brave enough to step into the middle of that and concluded it unlikely. I spotted the Inspector’s roadster parked nearby and realized where we were going.
“You expect me to get in a car with you?” I asked with some disdain.
“I’m returning you to the house. It’ll be a good time. You can tell me all about your eventful evening,” he replied flatly.
“Like hell.”
I tried to twist free, but the arm around my waist tightened, and with minimal effort, he lifted me enough for my heels to leave the ground, forcing me to keep pace or be dragged. I stumbled the rest of the way to the passenger door, which he opened for me.
“Get in, Eleanora, or I’ll get handsy. How many people do you think would stop me? They didn’t blink an eye when awoman was being threatened with a knife. At least it’s not a police car. Look, I’m letting you sit in the front.”
He was annoyed, and the disruption in his smooth tone was gratifying.
“I thought the Authority at least pretended to be decent.”
“And despite my other uncharitable beliefs about you,” he replied, scanning our surroundings for any other trouble as he spoke. “I didn’t think you were the type to spend your period of mourning, drinking and flirting in a Brom lounge. Sometimes we’re wrong about people.”
He was crowding me with his body, herding me into the car, and I jerked my elbow back, striking him in the ribcage. He absorbed the impact with hardly an exhale, which became a patronizing chuckle.
“Feel better?”
Knowing my other options were likely even more unpleasant, I climbed in, slamming the door shut. As he approached the driver’s side, I exhaled shakily, my stomach knotting, limbs quivering, as the reality of what had almost happened took hold. I sniffed, briefly covering my mouth to hinder the tears threatening to overflow, turning my face to the window as Harrow settled in the driver’s seat, his dominating presence filling the small space.
He swerved from the curb into traffic with an aggressive turn that nearly sent me careening into his lap. My hand landed on his knee, and the flower William had tucked in my hair was jarred from its place, disappearing into the floorboard by the Inspector’s feet. I cringed away as if burned, wound so tight that a snowflake’s weight more of panic would snap me in half.
“I didn’t survive a knife attack so you could kill me in a car wreck,Victor.” Scowling, I used his given name, echoing the thug who’d been familiar enough with him to do the same.
“What were you doing at The Vapors with William Nightglass and Thea James?” he asked, ignoring me.
“Why are you stalking me?”
“There was no stalking involved,” he replied. “You just don’t pay any goddamn attention. I was there the moment you walked in on William Nightglass’ arm.”
“I wasn’t on William’s arm, for godsake. And I have every reason to believe you’re stalking me. You did it in Devin!”
“Person of interest,” he said, tired of saying the same line.
“Exonerated!”
“It would do you a world of good to drop the act, Ms. Blackwicket. It’s tiresome. We both know you killed that man, let’s establish that and move on so we can focus on more pressing matters.”
