if he got her out of the car, she was dead, she took the chance of being shot in order to gain freedom.
Yelling, finally, she slammed into the rear of the police cruiser.
Everything stopped for a second and then sped up. The crash was thunderous. Her passenger bellowed and flew through the window. The airbag deployed right into her face and propelled her back into the seat.
She blinked, her ears ringing as the bag deflated with a soft hiss and a smattering of dust.
A police officer ran up and opened her door. “What in the hell?” he muttered, blood on his chin.
She coughed and shoved the airbag down. “Where is he?” she gasped, her eyesight blurry. Her assailant lay sprawled on the pavement, blood coating his face as the rain pelted down to make the red flow to the ground. The other officer leaned over him, talking into a radio at his shoulder.
Then the kidnapper jerked awake and leaped to his feet. Blood covered his face and his neck, while his left arm hung at an unnatural angle. He stood several inches above the officer. “What did you do?” he bellowed. His eyes were so dark they appeared black, and his gaze was piercing.
She screamed.
The cop tried to grab him, but he shoved the officer into the side of the car. Before the officer next to Promise could draw his gun, the kidnapper turned and ran into an alley.
The police officers quickly pursued him.
She panted, her mind buzzing, her body aching.
The police officers soon returned, both shaking their heads.
Oh, God. He was gone.
Chapter Two
Ivar Kjeidsen limped up the stairwell inside the high-rise building, blood trickling from cuts in his neck and down one arm from flying through a damn windshield. He hadn’t expected the harmless-looking physics professor to defend herself so well. The healing cells he’d focused on his injuries were doing their job slowly—too slowly. The scar tissue down his neck semi-blocked the cells. Shit. He might even need a bandage, just like a human.
His boots echoed dully on the cement steps, and even though he was the only one in the entire high-rise crazy enough to climb thirty stories, the walls still pressed in too closely. But it wasn’t nearly as bad as an elevator, which he’d avoid at all cost.
He’d had to walk all the way from the accident, having lost his fledgling ability to teleport the second he’d been injured. Being temporarily fragile sucked. He shoved open the door to the top floor and eyed the sheen from the white and gray tiles forming a sophisticated design down the long hallway. Beige-gray slabs of tile, thick and luxurious, made up the walls until the office opened into a center reception area surrounded by glass—one whole wall of it windows to the outside.
All glass and chrome and soothing materials.
He fucking hated this penthouse office space. It even smelled like recycled air and environmentally friendly cleanser.
Keeping his head down, he maneuvered through the hallway and past the deserted reception area to one of the many conference rooms down yet another hallway. The lights were too bright, the air too relaxed, and the height from sea level too damn far.
Banishing any hint of the pain still attacking him, he strode into the room and waited for the explosion to come.
None arrived. Instead, Ronan Kayrs looked up from a stack of maps that had been spread across the inviting and perfectly smooth light tan conference table, where he was apparently working alone at the moment. “Hello, Viking. The local news has already reported the attempted kidnapping. You had to go after her.”
A familiar slash of guilt cut into Ivar. He barely kept his hand from trembling as he drew out an environmentally friendly chair to sit. “I didn’t intend to take her.” Sometimes his instincts still overruled his brain.
Ronan’s eyes flashed a deeper aqua than usual. The vampire-demon had odd eyes, even for a hybrid. “You were on a reconnaissance mission. To watch and learn. She might be the exact wrong physicist based on the opinions expressed in some of her articles.”
Ivar nodded. “I’m aware.” The burn scars marring his neck went much deeper into his tissue than merely marring the skin outside, and his voice would always remain hoarse. Not as mangled as a purebred demon’s, but close. Considering he was half demon, he really didn’t give a shit. But right now, he couldn’t let that hoarseness be gauged as weakness. “I saw an opening, and I took it.”