“No.” She grabbed hold of his jacket’s sleeve and pulled him behind her as she started running again. “I don’t mean get out of my way. I mean move your goddamn ass.”
Shane—no stranger to bossy women telling him what to do—thought, What’s the worst that could happen?
Chapter Two
If Shane kept a list of the worst mistakes he’d made in his life, the top three would be: getting married, letting his ex-wife keep the dog and every time he was foolish enough to ask himself the question What’s the worst that could happen?
For a man who had once killed a vampire in front of a double-decker bus full of tourists, and who had been shot by a werewolf at a celebrity-filled wedding ceremony, the answer should be pretty plain—the worst that could happen was always just around the corner.
But when a petite woman with hair the color and shine of a newly minted penny took him by the arm and told him to run, the worst-case scenario didn’t seem like it could be all that bad.
“Uh, so, not to sound like I’m questioning your judgment or anything, but what exactly are we running from?”
She didn’t look back, her hair bounced in its ponytail and her pace never sl
owed. “We’re running for our lives.”
“But if that’s the case, we’re obviously running from something.”
The woman yanked him to the side, pulling him into a space far too narrow to be considered a back lane. She shoved him hard against the wall and was able to do so not because of any superhuman strength, but because she’d taken him by surprise.
Well, that, and she was admittedly a fair bit stronger than her wee frame let on.
Shane got a good look at her for the first time. She was slight of build, from what he could tell, though she was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and jeans with a black coat that hid her waist and chest. Her skin wasn’t the pearl-colored pale he was used to seeing around the vampire headquarters. She had an almost golden glow, and a smattering of freckles decorated her nose and cheeks. Green eyes the hue of fresh-cut spring grass were a perfect complement to her copper hair.
“Is someone trying to hurt you?” Shane asked. A pretty girl like her would be an easy target this late at night this far north in the city. But thugs didn’t scare Shane, and if he could smack someone around and be this lady’s knight in shining armor…?
Visions of knocking bedposts danced in his mind’s eye.
He sure wouldn’t mind seeing what she was hiding under her coat.
“Someone is always trying to hurt me,” the girl said, shaking her head like Shane must have been daft to ask her something so silly.
“Bad boyfriend problems?”
She released him and edged to the mouth of the passage. “You could say that.”
“You need me to send someone a message?” A broad grin spread over Shane’s mouth, and he raised his eyebrows hopefully. The lady vampire had rattled his cage, and beating up a pathetic human male who liked to treat a girl like a punching bag? Well, it would make Shane feel a little manlier.
“Look, I didn’t drag you along for your help.”
“Why did you drag me along, then?”
“Because I might have felt a tiny bit guilty if you got between me and that.”
Shane came up behind her, placing a hand on her lower back so he could lean past her and get a look out into the street. When he did, his bravado fell below normal levels and his cockiness meter dropped to zero.
In the middle of the empty Harlem block stood a creature that was at least nine feet tall, though its slumped shoulders and hunched back meant it might have been much taller if it worked on its posture. The thing’s head was much too small for the substantial girth of its body, making it appear as though someone had stuck a cranberry onto a watermelon and rolled it down the block.
Gray, mottled skin covered the monstrous body, and the creature’s arms were so long it was close to dragging its knuckles on the ground. Tiny black eyes seemed to be scanning the street, and the thing kept grinding its teeth together, the massive lower jaw jutting out much farther, creating an underbite of epic proportions.
It barked. Or at least that was the closest earthly thing Shane could imagine its guttural language to sound like.
He tucked himself back into the passageway and reminded himself most ladies didn’t find it sexy when knights in shining armor pissed themselves.
“So…uh…what is that?”
“A troll,” she replied matter-of-factly.