Judith,” he said, his left palm itching until he couldn’t help but run it down his thigh before he made a fool of himself and cupped her breasts right through all that tempting red silk. Even with her declaration—or maybe because of it—he had an urgent desire to lean that scant few inches that separated them to taste her mouth.
“I don’t expect anything to happen, but I won’t believe that you’re not a good woman. I have a sixth sense about these things.” That might be something Thomas Vincent would say. Stefan Prakenskii would have taken what he wanted—and he wanted Judith. The wanting was turning into something very dangerous.
Abruptly he dropped his arm and stepped back. He refused to be ensnared. Whatever small part that was left of his humanity was not going to be stripped from him. He forced himself back into the role of bashful Thomas, knowing that man was far safer for both of them.
Judith Henderson was forcing him to evaluate his life, to reassess what he wanted. He’d been all over the world and on some level, without realizing, he’d been searching for something to give meaning to life. He was a machine residing in the shadows and now, looking at her, he realized there was a glimmer of hope still left in him. His trainers hadn’t quite stamped out every bit of him. There was that tiny spark left. A glowing ember, no more, but it was there, hidden from sight, but still valiantly smoldering.
“I’ll walk you to your car.” It was necessary to establish that Thomas Vincent was a man who would walk a woman to a car, or to her front door, looking out for her safety. That would allow Stefan to give her some protection against Ivanov, and, if he were honest with himself, spend a little more time in her company.
“It isn’t necessary, although it’s kind of you. Sea Haven isn’t exactly a high crime area.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he affirmed, uncaring if he sounded like Stefan instead of Thomas. She wasn’t walking down the street with a bullet just seconds from striking her. “Where is it?”
“I’m parked just down the street a few stores down to the left.”
Of course she’d parked there. The tower where Ivanov was holed up was in that same direction. Stefan sent up a silent prayer to a God he had no faith or trust in, that he was judging the situation accurately and Ivanov wouldn’t pull the trigger and kill him right then. He walked beside Judith, his eyes, out of habit, moving restlessly over the rooftops and delving into the all the little courtyards tucked into the sides of the buildings, leading to more intriguing shops.
He was careful to keep his hands free as he moved along the street. Every few seconds his eyes tracked backed to the tower and the surrounding rooftops. It was a habit and if Ivanov was watching him closely through the nightscope, he would expect that behavior.
A wooden bench sat just back from the buildings in a small courtyard leading to more shops. A homeless man sat hunched against the building, ignoring the bench. He simply watched the ocean as it sprayed white foam high into the air, crashing against the cliffs.
The small crowd of wine tasters seemed to be congregated around the door of a shop several businesses down, all talking at once and laughing, drowning out any real chance of catching sounds that would help him locate Ivanov’s exact position. There was no doubt in his mind now; his body’s radar confirmed to him that he was being tracked with a weapon. The enemy was out there and watching him.
He turned his head toward Judith, bending slightly down, smiling, listening to her even as he noted every possible cover between where they were and her car. Self-preservation was automatic to him, so ingrained in him, he would always know every license plate in his general vicinity, buildings and landscape, the natural flow of his surroundings. He was a chameleon, blending in, a snake shedding one skin and growing another easily—a
“I don’t expect anything to happen, but I won’t believe that you’re not a good woman. I have a sixth sense about these things.” That might be something Thomas Vincent would say. Stefan Prakenskii would have taken what he wanted—and he wanted Judith. The wanting was turning into something very dangerous.
Abruptly he dropped his arm and stepped back. He refused to be ensnared. Whatever small part that was left of his humanity was not going to be stripped from him. He forced himself back into the role of bashful Thomas, knowing that man was far safer for both of them.
Judith Henderson was forcing him to evaluate his life, to reassess what he wanted. He’d been all over the world and on some level, without realizing, he’d been searching for something to give meaning to life. He was a machine residing in the shadows and now, looking at her, he realized there was a glimmer of hope still left in him. His trainers hadn’t quite stamped out every bit of him. There was that tiny spark left. A glowing ember, no more, but it was there, hidden from sight, but still valiantly smoldering.
“I’ll walk you to your car.” It was necessary to establish that Thomas Vincent was a man who would walk a woman to a car, or to her front door, looking out for her safety. That would allow Stefan to give her some protection against Ivanov, and, if he were honest with himself, spend a little more time in her company.
“It isn’t necessary, although it’s kind of you. Sea Haven isn’t exactly a high crime area.”
“I’ll walk you to your car,” he affirmed, uncaring if he sounded like Stefan instead of Thomas. She wasn’t walking down the street with a bullet just seconds from striking her. “Where is it?”
“I’m parked just down the street a few stores down to the left.”
Of course she’d parked there. The tower where Ivanov was holed up was in that same direction. Stefan sent up a silent prayer to a God he had no faith or trust in, that he was judging the situation accurately and Ivanov wouldn’t pull the trigger and kill him right then. He walked beside Judith, his eyes, out of habit, moving restlessly over the rooftops and delving into the all the little courtyards tucked into the sides of the buildings, leading to more intriguing shops.
He was careful to keep his hands free as he moved along the street. Every few seconds his eyes tracked backed to the tower and the surrounding rooftops. It was a habit and if Ivanov was watching him closely through the nightscope, he would expect that behavior.
A wooden bench sat just back from the buildings in a small courtyard leading to more shops. A homeless man sat hunched against the building, ignoring the bench. He simply watched the ocean as it sprayed white foam high into the air, crashing against the cliffs.
The small crowd of wine tasters seemed to be congregated around the door of a shop several businesses down, all talking at once and laughing, drowning out any real chance of catching sounds that would help him locate Ivanov’s exact position. There was no doubt in his mind now; his body’s radar confirmed to him that he was being tracked with a weapon. The enemy was out there and watching him.
He turned his head toward Judith, bending slightly down, smiling, listening to her even as he noted every possible cover between where they were and her car. Self-preservation was automatic to him, so ingrained in him, he would always know every license plate in his general vicinity, buildings and landscape, the natural flow of his surroundings. He was a chameleon, blending in, a snake shedding one skin and growing another easily—a
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