Page 9 of Heritage of Blood
His gaze snaps to mine and I gasp. Azure blue eyes meet mine and I take a half step back while my eyes rove over his entire body. Dressed in a suit that hugs him in all the right places, he is tall with broad shoulders—that I remember all too vividly. Dark, almost black hair tops his head with enough to gather a fist full.Yikes Kate.
A sharp jawline that was bare when I saw him six months ago now has a tightly shaved scruff that surrounds lips pressed into a thin line. I’m stunned speechless.
“You—” I begin to say.
“No,” he clips out.
Umm, what?I must wear my confusion plastered on my face because he clarifies.
“No. I don’t need another.”
With that, he motions to a blond-haired man currently enjoying one of the many benefits of a free bar and beautiful women. The man’s smile pulls into a tight-lipped frown, and he stands, sending the girl in his lap toppling to the ground. I’m too stunned to move as I watch him exit the building with four additional men trailing after him.
Walking my tray back to the kitchen, I shake out my hands while pacing back and forth.Calm down, I coax myself.He is a rich man, who happens to have been shot with you standing ten feet away.How the heck—in all the places—
I can’t form a cohesive thought. I don’t remember all the details of that night. Sometimes I relive it in a dream, like a movie I got caught up in. Black Range Rovers, men in suits, guns crashing through the silence late at night.
I shiver, trying hard not to dwell on the night that has come crashing down around me two minutes ago. Those eyes, seeing him crumple to the ground, bleeding out—I close my eyes and take several breaths in through my nose and then out through my mouth.
“Kate, something wrong?” My manager Renee’s voice brings me back to the present and I shake my head.
“No, sorry, just need to—I’m fine. Heading back out.” I offer a small smile and grab my tray. This is one hundred percent the most painful event to date.
* * *
“Last night was brutal,”Lacy huffs, dragging her feet around the park. I laugh because she has no idea how odd it was. That’s the best word to describe it. Odd. So much so, that I couldn’t sleep last night, even after the long event we had.
I had stumbled into my apartment dead tired, shucking off my shoes and watching them add another scuff mark to my already beaten baseboards. I took a shower, barely remembering to wash my hair then tumbled into bed. I thought I’d be out in minutes. Nope. I lay there for twenty minutes staring at the oscillating fan before throwing off my sheets and gathering my laundry.
It took me another twenty minutes to find enough quarters to operate the laundry machines in the building’s basement. Ultimately, I had to dig several out from my pickle jar. I kissed my fingertips and brought them to that dwindling jar in apology.
The basement laundry at 2 a.m. was now my new favorite time to do laundry. There was no one down there. One other dryer rumbled in the room, but all the other washers and dryers were open. Typically, I’m too tired from my late-night work events to do laundry at this time. I usually fight with every other tenant for washing privileges during the day on the weekends.
There was a slight draft, and the basement laundry was damp and musty. The flickering overhead lights created creepy shadows along the wall, but I would not squander the open machines and far-off sleep. I threw my clothes into one of the six washing machines and deposited the obscene amount it charges to smell nice. A low, ominous hum reverberated off the walls, and I kicked the neglected machines. A gush of water poured onto my clothes, and I shut the lid. Stepping back, I snatched my dryer balls and sprayed the coconut sugar oil that I enjoy using and set them off to the side.
A door slammed on the floor above shaking little specks of dust from the exposed pipes. I knew it was going to be a long night.
“Yeah,” I respond, shaking the memory of doing laundry in the dead of night. At least I had workout clothes ready for today. “I couldn’t sleep and ended up doing laundry.”
She gives me an incredulous look and I laugh. “I’m serious.”
“Well, that is definitely not what I would be doing if I couldn’t sleep.” She waggles her eyebrows in that suggestive way Lacy plays.
“We can’t all have perfect boyfriends that indulge our every need.” I snap back, teasing in tone but internally a provoking pull tugs at my gut. She rolls her eyes and flicks her hand in my direction.
I surge ahead, attacking my walking pace and she lets out a groan picking up her pace to stick with mine. A small bead of sweat rolls down my back and I tilt my head to the sun, drinking in the rays. The anticipation of fall lingers, but I want to take in as much of the warm summer air as possible.
Laughter and chatter spill out all around us as we walk the pathways, even various musicians serenade the public with their music. In a city like New York, Central Park can be a respite from the tall buildings surrounding us. Tall trees and shaded benches offer an oasis of sorts—I wish I lived closer.
Central Park is not one I visit often; it’s further away from my apartment and the time it takes to get over here is irksome. But right now, with the caress of the sun and the smell of late-blooming flowers, I’m glad I came to meet Lacy.
“Okay, I’m spent. You’re killing me, girl. I think I’ve walked off last night’s dinner, lunch, and breakfast. Let’s get some food.” Lacy has stopped beside a bench, a couple sitting there with coffee. The man takes his hand and pushes the woman’s hair behind her ear, leaning in for a kiss. I jerk my head away.
“Food?” I wince. This is not in my budget, especially around here. Lacy knows I’m saving for school, but she doesn’t know how bad it is. I guess I could get some water and something à la carte, maybe a bagel.
“Eric took me to this place a couple of weekends ago called Jacob’s Pickles and I instantly thought of you! They do brunch, come on I promise you’ll love it.”
Well, crap.