to the empty spot.
He nodded and smiled, the light reaching his faded blue eyes.
The train lurched around a bend, and Jerrica grabbed the bar above her head, swaying with the motion of the car. Maybe she should’ve accepted Amit’s invitation to the party. She didn’t even have her cat to greet her at home. Puck had disappeared last month without a trace just as seamlessly as he’d entered her realm. Even cats had a way of passing through her life, perhaps recognizing her rootless existence and most likely identifying with it.
With both of her hands holding on for dear life, she shook her hair from her face. Yeah, she definitely needed to get out and socialize. She’d call Amit once she got home and had some dinner and put on her best party face.
The train rumbled into her station and she jumped off. She emerged into the fresh air but hung back at the top of the steps.
If someone had been following her this afternoon, they must’ve picked up her trail around here—her neighborhood, her subway stop. No way someone just started tracking her in the middle of Manhattan. She took a different route to Dreadworm every time she went there. This place, this neighborhood, comprised her only constants.
She zeroed in on a few faces, attuned to sudden stops, starts and reversals. She moved forward by putting one foot in front of the other because she had to start somewhere. Sometimes the fear and uncertainty paralyzed her.
She ducked into her favorite noodle shop and ordered a spicy vegetarian pho with tofu, inhaling the aroma of the rich broth while she waited for her order.
Kevin, the shop’s owner, placed the bag in her hands. “Special for Jerrica. You find your cat yet?”
“No, I’m afraid he’s gone for good, Kevin.”
“I look out for him.” He tapped his cheekbone beneath his eye with the tip of his finger. “Cats come and go.”
So did people.
“If you do see Puck, give him some chicken and call me.” She waved as she shoved through the door, sending the little bell into a frenzy.
She loped to her apartment, her pack bouncing against her back and the plastic bag containing the soup swinging from her fingertips. She could’ve afforded fancier digs, but this neighborhood on the Lower East Side suited her—and she’d found a secure building without a nosy doorman watching her comings and goings.
She made it up to her apartment, got through the triple locks and shut the door behind her. Her gaze flicked about the room, and a shot of adrenaline lanced her system.
She dropped her dinner, plunged her hand into the front pocket of her backpack and pulled out her .22.
“Get out here with your hands up or I swear to God I’ll shoot you through the bathroom wall.”
The door to the bathroom inched open and a pair of hands poked through the opening, fingers wiggling. “Don’t shoot. I even brought a bottle of wine.”
Jerrica lowered her weapon with unsteady hands and closed her eyes as she braced one hand against the wall.
Just like that, Gray Prescott had slipped past her best defenses…like he always did.
Heavy breathing came at him from the other room, but he ducked his head anyway. He never could tell about Jerrica West. The woman didn’t play by any rules.
Leaning back, he stuck one leg out the door. If she started shooting, he’d rather she take out a kneecap than his eyeball. “It’s me, Gray… Gray Prescott.”
For all he knew Jerrica could’ve wiped him from that databank she called a brain. When he’d ended their relationship over her hacking, she hadn’t even blinked an eye as she showed him the door.
“I’m unarmed, and I need to talk to you, Jerrica.”
A clunk resounded down the hallway. “C’mon out. I won’t shoot…yet.”
He poked his head out the bathroom door and whistled through his teeth. “I guess that was stupid to be in the bathroom when you came home, but I was washing my hands. I didn’t know what time to expect you since I remembered you work late.”
As he rambled on, he approached Jerrica as if stalking a wildcat. Her green eyes narrowed as he got closer, her heavy, black boots planted on the floor in a shooter’s stance. He’d taught her that.
“What are you doing here and how the hell did you get in?” Her gaze flicked to the window that he’d left open a crack after climbing through.
“Yeah, well, I did come through that window, but the security for this building is good—better than most.” He’d added that last part because he knew how important safety was for her, and he didn’t want Jerrica freaking out right now.
“We’re on the third floor.” She pushed her black hair out of her eyes. “Oh, that’s right, you’re a hotshot Delta Force soldier able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.”
“There was a fire escape, a ledge…and…forget it. I’m here now.”
“What are you doing here? You said you wanted to talk—about what?” She crossed her arms over her chest not looking like she wanted to talk at all.
“Can we sit down and get comfortable? I wasn’t kidding about the bottle of wine, and it took a lot of effort to get it up here. I left it in the kitchen.” He pointed to the sofa with colorful pillows strewn across it. “You first.”
“Where are my manners? I guess they went out the window, when you came in the window. It’s not every day someone breaks into my apartment.”
“It’s not like I’m a stranger. I’ve even been to this inner sanctum before.”
“Have a seat, and I’ll get us a glass of wine.” She finally uprooted her feet from the floor, and her heavy boots clomped across the hardwood to the kitchen. She grabbed the bottle of wine by its neck and raised it in the air. “How did you manage to break in here while carrying this bottle of wine?”
He wiggled his eyebrows up and down. “You have your secrets and I have mine.”
“You don’t have any secrets Gray. Nobody does.” She jabbed a corkscrew into the cork, twisted and eased it from the bottle. The glasses clinked together as she pulled them out of the cupboard. “You use a computer? The internet? Social media? Buy online? Nothing is sacred. They know all about you.”
“I know. You’ve told me before.” He kicked his feet up onto her coffee table. “And after that cheery reminder, I’m gonna need a glass of wine more than ever.”
She marched back into the living room, cupping a glass of wine in each hand. The ruby-red liquid sloshed with her jerky steps. She held a wine glass out to him. “You always did prefer red, didn’t you?”
His gaze locked onto her lips, the color of the wine in her glass. “Yeah, I always did like red better.”
