She closed her eyes. Above and behind her, she heard the cap of an oil bottle being unscrewed. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to let the calm steal over her entire body.
The first touch was instantly soothing. The hands on her back were warm – almost hot – and that heat spread across her skin and into her muscles as they began to work out Annabelle’s knots. The ministrations were incredibly deft; her massage therapist seemed to know exactly when to touch what part of Annabelle’s body, and exactly how hard – and in what way – to rub.
Annabelle simply couldn’t help the moan of pleasure that escaped her lips as, bit by bit, her body seemed to slip into another plane. On this plane, there was no pain. No tension. Her headache was gone and the fear that had been riding her about the inevitable upcoming fight with Jack began to float away.
I can handle Jack, she thought. I can do this.
She felt stronger, more capable.
There was a gentle tap on her shoulder and Annabelle remembered that she was supposed to turn over. Her arms felt a little like jelly at this point. She smiled to herself as she slowly pushed herself up and rolled over, keeping her eyes closed against the sudden light above her.
The blanket was repositioned over her and she tucked her arms underneath.
And then something cold, hard, and decidedly sharp was pressed against the side of her neck.
Annabelle’s eyes flew open and light flooded her vision. She blinked repeatedly as a face came into focus. It was a man’s face, handsome but cold, with eyes like blue ice, and it was framed by a mass of hair as blue-black as the darkest night.
“Need a ride, mate?” Avery asked. He’d come up beside Jack, his stance rigid, as if he were prepared to move fast at any given moment.
Jack was about to answer when the phone in Alex’s front pocket rang. Everyone looked at him. He hesitated and then swallowed, almost audibly in the sudden silence surrounding them.
Then he reached into his pocket and extracted the phone. With a wary glance at his boss, he flipped it open and placed it to his ear.
“Jackson.”
His expression went from one of stressed wariness to one of terrified shock in a matter of short seconds.
He looked back up at Jack, his eyes wide.
Jack didn’t think twice. He immediately jerked the phone out of Alex’s hands and placed it to his own ear. “It’s Thane. What’s going on?”
On the other end of the line, someone coughed. It was a wet sound, full of pain and probably blood. “Sir… Drake is alone in… her room…”
Jack’s gut clenched.
“… With Night.”
“Adam.” Annabelle barely managed the whisper. Her breath was caught in her throat. She swallowed, and the blade of Adam’s knife threatened, cold and hard.
“Aye, luv.” Adam smiled, flashing those perfect white teeth. “Feel better?” He stood over her straight and tall, his body angled so that the knife he held was out at arm’s length, pressed almost casually against her neck.
Annabelle’s pulse raced wildly. She felt dizzy with it. She blinked, and stars swam in her vision when she re-opened her eyes.
“Where…” Her voice trailed off, and she had to start over. “Where is Victoria?” She asked softly. She really did sound as if she was about to faint.
Something dark flashed in Adam’s icy gaze. His smile disappeared. “She was bought and paid for, luv,” he told her. “Osborne got to her before Jackson did.”
Annabelle watched him through tunneling vision. She blinked, knowing her expression must reflect the confusion she felt at that moment.
Adam’s gaze slid from Annabelle’s eyes to her lips and then down to the knife at her throat. He looked thoughtful for a moment and then he slowly removed the blade.
Annabelle knew better than to sigh with relief. If Jack was telling the truth, Adam was unpredictable, at best. He might only be pulling the blade away so that he could swipe it back across her throat with more momentum.
But she did at least find that she could breathe a little easier. The spots in her vision began to recede.
Adam deftly slid the blade into a sheath wrapped around his left bicep, all the while not taking his eyes off of Annabelle. “She was sent to kill you,” he told her, almost matter-of-factly. “The oil’s poisoned.” He turned slightly and retrieved a bottle from the table behind him. Then he held it out above Annabelle, allowing her to stare up at it.
“Kills on contact. Would have hurt like a bugger, too.”
Annabelle found herself swallowing audibly once more. She stared up at the small bottle, her mind spinning wildly out of control. It was Adam all along. Touching her, easing her pain… Victoria had never laid a hand on her. Annabelle wondered, in fact, where the dead woman was at this moment.
Adam put the bottle back down behind him and turned fully toward Annabelle once more.
Before she could blink, he was leaning over her, bracing himself above her with a hand on either side of the massage table. His face was mere inches from hers, his eyes boring into her own.
She could feel his breath across her lips when he spoke next. “Here you are,” he whispered, “holed up with arseholes too stupid to properly check for weapons, and you don’t even know what the man looks like who wants you dead.”
Annabelle gazed up at Adam and found herself lost in the blue of his eyes. Something about his words, about his presence, at that very moment, had the strangest effect upon her. She found herself warming beneath him. She felt… light headed. And she wasn’t certain it was all from fear.
She wanted to speak, but her mouth had gone a little dry. She licked her lips, and Adam’s gaze flickered to her mouth.
“What does he look like?” She found herself asking. Of all the things she wanted to know, that was the one she chose? She couldn’t explain it. But what was said was said.
Adam slowly cocked his head to one side, and the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile. He straightened, moving away from her and taking a step back from the table.
Annabelle took the opportunity to sit up. She did so slowly, propping herself up on her elbow with one arm and holding the blanket to her chest with the other. Her long hair spilled all around her, a few wavy strands cascading in front of her face as she turned onto her side to face Adam.
He watched her as if fascinated by her every move.
She shivered.
Adam noticed. His smile broadened, but he chose not to comment. Instead, he turned his back on her and walked to a set of shelves against one wall. “Got something for you, angel.” As he moved, Annabelle had a chance to study him.
He was dressed in black from head to toe, and the color blended in with his hair, making him appear almost ethereal. Like a vampire or a ghost. But whereas Jack normally dressed to ride, Adam was more of the SWAT persuasion.
He looked lean and hard but his build was not as large as Jack’s. It was like the difference between a wolf and a coyote. Jack was a wolf, but Adam was fast and sneaky. And in the Business, that was far more deadly than a good set of fangs.
She noticed, now that she had a moment to look, that his hair was not touched by any gray as Jack’s was. She would place him in his late thirties, maybe. Or, he just had amazingly good hair.
Laying atop the shelves against the wall was a manila folder. Adam retrieved the folder and then turned back around to face Annabelle. She found herself gripping the blanket tighter as she quickly got down from the table and stood on somewhat wobbly legs on the other side, the table between her and her dark visitor.
Adam watched her for a moment and then slowly strode back across the room toward her. Annabelle surprised herself by not stepping back as he approached.