Secrets - [Guardian Trilogy 01] (18 page)

I had failed. I couldn’t do what needed to be done. Several times I tried, but no matter how much I hyped myself up to do it, when I got there I knew ending her life would be the end of mine. I would go mad. I simply couldn’t live with her dying because of me. My life was entwined with hers, and I had no idea how it happened. Overnight I’d become bound to this strange girl by unbreakable chains. Calling it a disaster would be an understatement of epic proportions.

I saw the lights switch off in her apartment. I glanced at the clock; it was barely 9:00. She wasn’t going to sleep this early, was she? She went to church, was asleep by 9:00, and wanted to save the worthless people of the world—I was obsessed with a nun. I laughed at the absurdness before I started to see things in a different light. Her early bedtime was beneficial. It would be easier to make our relationship work if I had my evenings free. I pulled the car around to the front of her building—and she surprised me by walking out of the building alone and starting down the street.
So much for my theory.

I left the car and tracked her down the brightly lit streets. Where would she be going this late, alone in the city? She might as well wear a sign that said, “Victim, please attack.”

I stayed far enough away to avoid detection and the temptation of being near her. However, not so far that I couldn’t help her should the need arise. Ideas of where she could be going and who she might be meeting slashed at me. Perhaps, I would get to see this Quintus person.
I cracked my knuckles in anticipation, but the longer I followed her, the more obvious it became that she wasn’t walking with purpose.

I’d been so preoccupied with discovering who and what Quintus was and if he posed a threat to her, that it took me by surprise when a new emotion crashed into me. Relief. Relief that she wasn’t going to meet a date. I hadn’t even realized I was worried about
that
until the sensation passed. And what would I have done if she had been meeting someone? Leave? Make her choose? More than likely wait until later and kill him. If I couldn’t have her, could I stand by and let someone else? I had my doubts.

Her meandering inconsistent pace made her difficult to follow. She didn’t seem awkward or self-conscious about being alone like so many others would. She watched people with undisguised interest, though most of them never looked twice at her. She gave money to the homeless,
asking for trouble
. And she never even glanced at some of the rougher elements she passed. How had she managed to survive this long? Her trustfulness was the worst kind of naivety. It was no surprise assholes like Christopher preyed on her, and it made me wonder about the rest of her friends. How many other people took advantage of her every day?

Caught up in annoyance on her behalf and the problems she would undoubtedly cause in my life, I missed the fact that she’d stopped in front of a theater to check show times, walked right past her—

It wasn’t until I heard her say my name that I realized my passive observation was blown once again. I turned and feigned surprise at seeing her.

“Madame, are you following me?” I asked, trying for good-natured as I closed the distance between us.

She gave me a doubtful look. “You don’t live anywhere near here.” Good for her; she wasn't fooled. Perhaps she wasn’t as trusting as I’d made her out to be. “Don’t get me wrong—I'm glad to see you.”

 Realizing that she was genuinely happy to see me, no tricks involved, lit something inside of me. It was such a foreign emotion that it burned brighter than all the rest of them. I wasn’t sure what do about it.

“So, what brings you to the neighborhood?”

Unfortunately, I had no answer for this question. I was so thrown off by my new and ever growing feelings I couldn’t even think of a good lie. “It isn’t important,” I said as smoothly as I could. “I'm glad I ran into you.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she couldn’t keep a happy smile off her face. I was beginning to see that the better I got to know her, the harder she was to understand. I couldn’t discern what she was actually thinking or feeling. She seemed to have many well-controlled layers, and I had the sneaking suspicion that not much that happened beneath the surface ever reached the top. Her eyes alone were the only porthole to her mind and they were often in opposition to her countenance.

“I believe you are,” she said at length. “But I don’t think it was accident.” Her frankness without apology was well played.

“Perhaps not.” I found her refreshing; no games was new territory for me. “Do you mind?”

 “Not at all. I thought about calling you but—”

“Too soon?”

“I don't have your number.”

“Yes, you do.”

She arched a brow at me.

“I put it in your phone this afternoon.”

“That’s what you were doing with my phone.” She laughed and shook her head. “Would you like to see a movie?”

“Sure.” I had no desire to see a movie. Trying to understand her was infinitely more entertaining than a movie could ever be, but if this was what she wanted, I was happy to oblige. She chose a thriller. I wondered if that was for my benefit or her own preference. We waited in the concession line, Olivia telling me all about her family. She chatted away while I took in every word she said until I felt an unholy presence like a blister on my heart. Olivia shuddered next to me, but continued talking, obviously ignoring whatever feeling passed over her. I put my arm around her waist repositioned so she was half protected by my body, pretending to still listen to what she said. I didn’t want to alert her to the danger, not until I knew for certain what it was and if it was after her. It felt like boiling water was being poured down my back and all my instincts wanted to lash out. My muscles burned to be called into action and my blood sizzled, but I held firm and refused to look.

“Do you want anything?” her voice broke through the pain and fear.

I shook my head and Olivia placed her order. She made small talk with the greasy haired kid behind the counter, and he took it as an invitation to share his entire emo life with her. I used the opportunity to look for threat. No one stood out. Each face appeared to be no more than a human. I only had one idea about what it could be, and a demon was improbable at best. I scrambled to think of another explanation and any other reason why it would be here. Seconds later the feeling evaporated.

Olivia finally extracted herself from the conversation with the kid by giving him an awkward pat on the back and saying something about our show starting. I thought about trying to get her to skip the movie, but with not knowing where the threat went or why it was here I might only make matters worse. We headed into the dark theater, previews already started, and sat towards the back so I could inspect every person. When I was satisfied it wasn’t in the room with us, I settled in watching Olivia out of the corner of my eye. The gamut of emotions that crossed her face was fascinating. I could tell she figured out the killer early; her eyes narrowed slightly every time she saw him. She was so absorbed in the film, it was as if she was cataloging every detail.

After the movie, I walked her home and listened to her opinion of everything from acting to storyline. I had little to offer to the conversation, but she didn’t seem to notice. She relaxed as she spoke, becoming more and more animated—yet another aspect to her personality emerging. Apparently her quiet introspective nature hid the enthusiasm she had for people, their motives, and life in general until she got close to you.

At her building, I bid her farewell—careful not to stand too close to her. For all I knew we were being watched from far enough away I couldn’t detect the presence. I could show her no particular regard unless I wanted others to take notice of her. We were lucky in the theater not to be noticed. Even if it was there for someone else, we could have caught its eye. I couldn’t be too careful.

“You don’t want to come up?” Her eyes searched mine.

“Not tonight.” I was careful to keep my face blank and my body language indifferent.

She moved to kiss me, and I turned my head letting her lips brush my cheek. It was a spur of the moment decision and whether or not it was the right one was questionable. Kissing her would have been in character for me. In fact, not kissing her was probably more suspicious, but if what happened in my apartment was any indicator, I couldn’t maintain indifference with her lips on mine. I chose to hold on to self-control, and if questioned, I would claim to be playing hard to get. Perfectly reasonable.

The perceived rejection in her eyes was unmistakable. “Right. Have a good night.” She bit her plump lower lip and turned and walked away.

I didn’t blame her. She didn’t understand my actions. All I could do was hope that when she learned what I was, she would think back and see I did everything I could to help her—to keep my distance. How could she know that every fiber of my being wanted to go up to her apartment with her—wanted to possess her, keep her? I not only had to fight off the darker element of my nature that wanted to control her, but I also had to fight the new emotions that wanted to keep her near me. The cold, hard truth was that the further away from me she stayed, the safer she was. Drawing management’s attention would be disastrous. Even if it meant her hating me, I had to keep her ignorant of who and what I was. It was her only chance at survival. In fact, her hating me would be a blessing because then she’d stay away from me. There was only one problem with my plan—so far it was
me
who couldn’t stay away from
her.

Thirteen

Confused and a little hurt, I stalked the stairs to my apartment. Holden was a walking contradiction. He’d warn me away from him and in the next moment pull me towards him. He’d follow me around, but would not come to my house. He was so strong, but so hesitant. Tonight, I’d thought we’d crossed some barrier. I’d forgotten to worry about what I was saying. I’d learned I could speak my mind to him, without fear of judgment or risk that he’d used what I said against me—something I’d long ago discovered was a rare quality to find. I was happy to discover it in Holden and I hadn’t wanted—or expected— our evening to end so soon or so abruptly.

I respected that he didn’t want to rush things between us, but restraint was also the last thing I expected from him. He exuded sex. Everything about him was forty percent sultry and sixty percent pheromones. I knew it wasn’t just in my mind either. I saw the way women and men looked at him when we walked past. He didn’t seem the type to deny himself anything. I had him pegged as a player—or at least the type to rush into everything, instant gratification and all that. Apparently I was wrong. Or maybe he just didn’t see in me what I saw in him. Obviously he dated the Cathi type of girl—and that certainly wasn’t me. Had I imagined our chemistry? I was unlocking my door when Jules came down the hallway.

“Hey, Liv! Waiting up for me?”

“No, I'm just getting home,” I said a little coolly. Maybe still a little irritated that she ditched me.

“Oh, you went out?” She seemed genuinely surprised, which did nothing to ease my annoyance with her.

“Yeah, I went to a movie with Holden.” Did she expect me to sit home alone because she bailed on me?

“The one from the bar?”

“Yeah, we spent most of the day together. How was your date?” Okay, so maybe I wasn’t being nice. Maybe I was implying a significance on Holden and me that wasn’t actually there, but I resented the fact that she felt if it weren’t for her, I’d have no life at all. Even if it was true, I didn’t want to think that was how she saw me.

“It was really good. Mark’s such a good listener. We talked for so long about, well,
everything
. I told him things I don’t tell anyone.”