I roll my eyes. “I see you haven’t changed a bit, Princess.”
“HA!” Her voice is triumphant. “I knew it was you!”
Resigned to my fate, I reach forward and flip open the lock. The door swings slowly outward, revealing a pretty brunette who’s staring at me with something like adoration.
Wait… Adoration?
I don’t even have time to brace myself before she’s flung her arms around me and pulled me into a hug so tight I can barely breathe.
She’s hugging me?
“I thought I’d never see you again!” she screeches. “I’m happy I was wrong.”
“Um.” I pat her back awkwardly. “You’re touching me.”
She snorts and pulls back a bit, but doesn’t release my shoulders. “Yes, this is called a hug. I realize you may be unfamiliar with the concept. We’ll take it slow. Baby steps. Work our way up to rocking hugs. Back-petting hugs. Bear hugs. And my personal favorite…” She pauses, eyes twinkling. “Tackle hugs.”
I blink. “You’re still touching me.”
She smacks my arm lightly. “I’ve been looking for you for months.”
My brows lift. “Why?”
Her pretty hazel eyes widen. “To say thank you, genius. You saved my life.”
She’s got it all wrong.
A squirmy, uncomfortable feeling fills my stomach. “Not really.”
“What the hell do you mean?” She stares me down. “You’re my savior. My fairy freaking godmother. I’ve been trying to get Nate to track you down for ages but he didn’t have a lot to go on. Blonde, petite, swears a lot — not exactly enough details for a full criminal investigation.”
“Listen, you’re mixed up. I’m not your savior.” I swallow hard. “I’m not who you think I am at all. Let’s just go our separate ways and pretend it never happened, okay?”
Phoebe blinks at me. “Are you high?”
Without waiting for an answer, she shakes her head to dismiss my words, loops her arm through mine, and starts walking striding toward the bathroom door. “Come on, Tink, I have to introduce you to everyone. I made them wait outside while I came in to get you, but I swear half my friends think I made you up. Granted, I was a bit sleep-deprived and dazed when we met, but I wasn’t delusional for god’s sake.”
I dig in my heels but it’s no use — in those stilettos, she’s got at least seven inches of height on me. I’m dragged along like a deflated birthday balloon on a string.
“Wait—” I protest, searching for the right words. “I’m not— this isn’t—”
She ignores my babbles.
God, she’s just like her brother.
“Phoebe, listen—”
“There’s really no point arguing,” Phoebe says placidly, stopping just in front of the exit. “You’re going to let me thank you properly. Now that Nate’s seen you, he’ll just track you down if you try to disappear again. Isn’t that right, Nathaniel?” she calls through the door. Her tone very clearly suggests he’d better agree with her if he ever wants sex again.
“Whatever you say, little bird.” Knox sounds amused — and close, like he’s standing right outside.
When Phoebe pulls the door open, I realize that’s because he is right outside, guarding the entrance — much to the annoyance of several girls waiting to pee. As we clear the door, his dark eyes sweep over my face, intelligent and intense in their perusal. This man misses nothing — not one detail. I can tell from a single glance at him that he’s everything his reputation boasts and more.
“Zoe Bloom,” Knox murmurs lowly. “Should’ve known.”
I startle — I can’t believe he knows who I am.
“You know Tinkerbell?” Phoebe hisses at her boyfriend, voice ominous. “And you didn’t tell me? You are in so much trouble!”
“Little bird, I know her name; that doesn’t mean I knew she was your foul-mouthed rescuer from eight months ago.”
“Oh,” Phoebe says, somewhat calmer. “Well, how do you know her, then?”
“That’s a good question. I’d like to know the answer, myself.” My brows arch. “Have we met?”
Knox jerks his head in the direction of the octagon, toward Luca. “You’re a friend of a friend. I like to stay informed, whenever I work with someone. Who they know, who they deal with.” His eyes hold mine and I see thoughts stirring at the back of that dark gaze. “You know Blaze… that means I made it my business to know you.”
There’s another sentence in his eyes, one he doesn’t say out loud.
And I don’t like what I know.
I hold his stare unflinchingly. He may be intimidating to most people, but I was raised in back alleys and on shadowed street corners. He doesn’t scare me.
I’ve seen that look he’s giving me before, too many times to count. The one that says, Get out, you’re not wanted here. You’re dirty and dangerous. A threat.
I saw it from soccer moms and teenage girls and little kids and businessmen in fancy suits, who’d press their cellphones tighter to their ears as they hustled past my cardboard sign like I might leap up and steal their wallets. For some unfathomable reason I thought, when I left the streets, I’d never see that look again.