Page 10 of Blood Owed (Blood Mafia 1)
Paranoia seeps into my blood, and I have to force myself to stop waiting for the cops to show up and take me away.
“Everything is fine,” I say before getting out of the car.
A man is barreling straight toward me when I step onto the sidewalk. He yanks my purse from my arm.
“Hey, give that back.”
The people walking by look, but do nothing to stop the man from taking my purse.
God dammit.
Why does the universe hate me?
All I want is some orange chicken, is that too much to ask?
I press my eyes closed for a millisecond, then sprint after him. Pumping my arms and legs harder than I did last night. Being a track star in high school has certainly paid off this past week. I’m gaining on the scumbag fast, and when he tosses a casual glance over his shoulder, his eyes widen in surprise.
“I see you!” I yell and pick up the pace. My side aches, but I grit my teeth. I don’t run nearly as much as I should as an adult. I’m making running a number one fitness priority after I get my purse back.
He grunts and starts going faster, but it’s too late for him. I get ready to launch myself onto his back, but a man steps in his path and stops him for me. The thief tries to fight, but the man punches him straight in the jaw.
“Whoa,” I say, admiring him for hitting a guy while wearing a business suit.
San Francisco is usually not insanely hot, but today the forecast had a high of eighty-five, and I definitely feel the heat after sprinting so hard. I place my hands on the back of my head and suck in air. Since my purse is safe, I take a second to catch my breath.
My hero steps over the dude and holds my purse out.
“Thanks.” I smile and take it from him. My eyes flash over his handsome face, quickly cataloging the sharp lines, piercing green eyes, and the little scar on one of his eyebrows. When I notice the small red emblem on his suit jacket, my heart skips a beat.
It’s the same emblem from the night before and I stare at it, tracing the two letters which are intertwined. BM. Blood Mafia.
He smirks when I gasp, and my gaze finds his. Those pretty eyes are dancing with mirth. He steps closer. I stumble back, my Chucks scraping across the sidewalk.
My pulse is jumping against my neck. I turn and bolt, completely bypassing my car, and sprint through the streets, crossing over and back until I’m sure I’ve lost him. I don’t even know if he followed me, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.
I’ll go back for my Honda tomorrow.
By the timeI make it back to my apartment, the sun has started to set and I feel like throwing up. My purse is heavy on my shoulder, and I’m pissed a man got in the way of me and food once again. I’m also sweaty and smell disgusting.
Listen, no one has time to look hot when they’re hiding from the mafia.
I am, however, impressed that I managed to keep running for a solid forty-five minutes. They can’t hurt me if they can’t catch me, right?
I round the corner to head up the stairs but stop short when Kevin shoves off the wall. He puts his hands in his jeans and glances around.
Not today, Satan.
With a narrowed gaze, I strut up to him. “What the hell do you want?” I wish I had my knife.
His shoulders tense, and the muscle in his jaw twitches. After taking a deep breath, he says, “I came to talk.”
“Where’s the pixie?”
“Come on, Demi, don’t be like that.”
A ripple of anger whooshes down my body. Don’t be like that? Is he joking?
“Let me make one thing very clear.” My words are fierce, and I step to him, not caring that he’s a shifter. “If you ever come here again, I will stab you.”
