The Lost Saint
Page 53

At nine p.m., I pulled my hair into a high ponytail and changed into black jeans and a black long-sleeved T-shirt (what else are you supposed to wear on a stakeout?) and then propped a couple of pillows under my comforter to make it look like I was tucked in bed. (Lame, I know. But sneaking out wasn’t exactly my forte.) Then I popped open the screen on my second-story window and climbed out on the eave of the roof. I stood on the edge and scanned the street, making sure no one was around. When I was sure the coast was clear, I dove off the roof, did a double flip midair, and landed with hardly a sound near the walnut tree. I felt a thrill of triumphant pride at pulling off the stunt, and almost wished someone had been there to see me.
Luckily, the Corolla was parked in the driveway, and by nine fifteen, I was backing out onto the road. The car rattled and shook the whole way there, and I prayed that it wouldn’t stall at each stoplight, but I made it to The Depot just before ten p.m. I stayed put in the car until Talbot pulled up and parked beside me in a pickup truck—blue with rust spots, and looking like it had done plenty of farm hauling in the last couple of decades.
We both got out of our cars and stood on the sidewalk together. Talbot wore a white-and-gray flannel shirt, which actually looked like it had been ironed, tucked into boot-cut jeans. He was without his baseball cap for the first time since I’d met him, and he’d combed his wavy milk-chocolate-brown hair back behind his ears. He hooked his fingers in his belt loops next to his large bronze marshal-star belt buckle.
I rocked back on my heels. “So … did you bring treats?”
Talbot scrunched his eyebrows. “For what?”
“Aren’t we supposed to sit in a car and eat lots of junk food and guzzle coffee while on a stakeout?”
“You watch way too much TV.” He lightly touched my arm. “And besides, why would we sit out here in a car if we can have more fun inside?”
“Fun? Inside?” I gave him an incredulous stare.
“Come on.” He slipped his fingers down my arm, grabbed my hand, and pulled me across the street and down the alley between the train station and the old warehouse. He dug a keycard out of his pocket and used it to get us in through the door. We descended the stairs into the cloud of music and fog. I hesitated at the bottom step. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go into this place again. Talbot seemed to sense my reason for hanging back. He gave me a reassuring nod and let go of my hand and wrapped his arm around my waist as he steered me through the entrance.
“Just for show,” he said, his lips brushing my ear. “No one is going to hassle you this time if they know you’re with me.” He held me tight against his side and headed deeper into the club. And just like on the night I had come here with April, people seemed to practically jump out of Talbot’s way as he headed toward the dance floor. Guys nodded in his direction, and girls gave me envious scowls. I didn’t know what it was—his wolf pheromones, perhaps—but he seemed to have a commanding presence in this place. So much so that my breath caught in my chest when he slid his fingers along my arms and entwined his hands with both of mine.
I looked up into his emerald green eyes. “What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Dance with me,” he said, and then pulled me into the dancing throng.
It was a quick, pulsating song, the kind of music that swallowed you whole, and I couldn’t help being sucked into the gyrating motion of the crowd. Talbot danced with that same sort of commanding energy—not like a farm boy at all, more like he was made for this sort of music. Like he owned this dance floor. His body moved with the pulsing rhythm close to mine, our hands touching, and then not. My heart raced. I couldn’t help but stare into his piercing eyes. Almost like he held me in an Akh-like trance.
We danced two songs this way, but then the music shifted into something slower and more sensual. With a smooth, swift movement Talbot wrapped my arms around his neck and then placed his arms around my waist. He pulled me close, his hands pressing against the small of my back. I recognized the hungry glint in his eyes. It was the way Daniel used to look at me.
I felt a sudden tightness in my throat. I turned my head away and surveyed the crowd, wondering who we were supposed to be looking for. When I glanced back at Talbot, he still stared down at me with unblinking intensity.
“Aren’t we supposed to be watching out for the Shadow Kings?” I asked.
“We will. But I doubt they’ll be here for another hour or two.” His voice had a soft growl to it—almost like a contented purr.
“An hour or two? Why did we get here so early, then? And I thought we weren’t supposed to stand out.”
“What better way to blend in than to pretend we’re having fun?” Talbot’s large hands slid to my hips. He held me close against him. “You look great tonight, by the way. Kind of ‘spy chic’ or something. Perfect for kicking some demon butt later on.” He sighed and then nuzzled his nose against the top of my head. “Perfect night, don’t you think? We may even have time to grab a bite to eat from the bar before the SKs get here.”
I shivered, even though it was far from cold on the dance floor. I couldn’t help thinking that this would seem like the perfect night to someone like Talbot: a little dancing, a little dinner, and a little demon slaying for dessert. I thought about his pressed shirt, styled hair, and even the splash of musky cologne I could smell on his neck. I let my arms fall from his shoulders and took a step back. “Talbot, are we on a date?”
Talbot gave me a look like he thought I was totally insane. He dropped his hands from my hips. “Um, no. It’s called surveillance. We’re blending in.” He shoved his thumbs into his belt loops. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I thought you’d be up for playing the part.” Then he gave me a sheepish, dimpled grin. “But if this were a date, would that be so bad? We can make it one if you want.”
I sighed. “I have a boyfriend. You know that.”
“Then why isn’t he the one here with you, helping you?”
“It’s more complicated than that.… And you’re my mentor. I can’t cross that line if you’re going to be training me.”
Talbot’s shoulders dropped. He stared over my head.
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to upset you. But this isn’t going to work if we’re not on the same page about—”