“Show me,” she said. Her voice was falsely loud in the space, as if covering another strong emotion.
Custo didn’t invade her mind to discover her motive. He didn’t trespass into her private thoughts, though holding back took all of his control. She deserved that much respect for stepping into that riddled elevator, for trusting him.
If he could possibly help it, he wouldn’t touch her mind again.
“Show me,” she repeated.
Custo glanced toward the hallway at the other side of the great room. It happened on the other side of that door.
The bedroom was as bare as the rest of the loft. Hollow and empty, his tomb. He scuffed his foot over the place where he’d been tied to a chair, though he could never tell her about that. It would be too much to bear, even for him. He paced slowly across the room. A forest grew in his memory: the Shadowlands. Across time, the trees were still heavy with ominous magic, sighing with energy. A twitch of his inner eye and he could almost see it.
“Were you in pain?” Annabella’s eyes shimmered, but the lock of her jaw told him she was furious that she’d been forced to endure this.
Custo smothered a heartsick laugh. Pain? “No,” he lied, “it was quick.”
He couldn’t tell her how he’d pissed himself, and it didn’t matter now anyway.
Swallowing to wet his dry throat, he said, “I wonder why Adam hasn’t done anything with the place.”
“I can guess,” she said, her voice low, almost inaudible. She took a step back toward the hall, away from death. Louder, she added, her tone edged, “I can’t read minds, but in case you’re thinking of us staying here tonight, think again. This is worse than going back to my apartment.”
Custo cursed himself for being an ass. He should get her out of here.
She swept a hand over her cheek to wipe away tears, her chin quivering. She turned on her heel, haughty spine ramrod straight, and stalked out of sight.
His gaze swept the room one more time, but he couldn’t hear the rustle of Shadow trees. The place was gray and empty. Only a ghost remained—himself.
Being apart from Annabella sent a current of anxiety over his skin. The loft was rife with shadows, and he’d managed to piss her off enough that she might put more space between them than was safe.
Why in hell had he tortured her with his past?
He found her at the elevator, grazing her fingertips over one of the bullet holes. It was much better that she thought he bought it that way.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “We can go now. We shouldn’t have come.”
She didn’t say anything, wouldn’t so much as look at him. Maybe she thought he was in her head again, stealing her thoughts. The suspicion wouldn’t be too far off base; he’d stolen a lot in his life. He didn’t have the kind of family money that Adam had access to, but he’d attended the same schools. Basic needs, and extraneous ones, had to be met somehow, and odd jobs here and there never remotely came close to paying for them. And he wasn’t about to beg a buck from Adam.
He was a thief, but he wouldn’t steal from her again. From this moment on, her thoughts would be her own.
She hit the button and the doors slid open. A charged silence carried them back to the night-soaked curb. He didn’t try to hold her, but he stayed close and alert. Every living thing was a potential threat.
The cab had gone, but a black Segue SUV stood waiting.
The coded entry would have signaled a breach of the building at Segue. This particular building would have probably popped up as an alert. Damn Adam for knowing where he was, what he was doing, for making everything so easy by delivering a car when he needed it.
He needed one fucking Segue-free, Adam-free night, and this was it.
Custo opened the passenger door for Annabella, who climbed in with her stony silence. The driver shot him a questioning glance. “Out,” Custo commanded.
“Sir?”
“Out,” Custo repeated.
The driver climbed down while Custo circled the SUV. The man, Matt Becket, was security from the old days, before all the soldiers, the governmental cooperation. He didn’t really deserve to be stranded in the middle of the city, but then, a lot of people didn’t deserve a lot of things. “Tell Adam I gave you the night off.”
“But, sir—”
Custo took the driver’s seat and slammed the door on the rest of the question. The driver was still standing in the street as Custo pulled into traffic. Annabella was in a bad mood, he was in a bad mood, Matt might as well be, too.