Shadow Bound Page 0,70
veered off at the next exit anyway. Local roads and byways, then, for as far as they could take them.
He looked over at Talia. She had her head propped in her hand, elbow on the lip of the passenger window. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”
“Huh,” she laughed, exhausted. “I don’t think I’ll ever sleep again.”
“Why don’t you give it a try? Sit back, close your eyes, and relax. We’ve got a long way to go.”
She lifted an argumentative brow, but hunkered down, crossing her arms over her chest.
When next he looked over, her jaw was slightly slack, lips parted, chin tilted to catch the sun on her face. Talia. Sleeping Beauty. Too bad this wasn’t a fairy tale.
A blaring honk! shattered Talia’s sleep. She clutched the seat and struggled upright, blinking at the wild contrasts of dark city and bright lights.
“Welcome back,” Adam said. His beard was just beginning to show.
“Where are we?” she croaked.
“New York. You’ve been out cold for going on seven hours.” Adam sounded amused; she felt like she’d been hit by a bus.
“What time is it?” She stretched to get the blood flowing and arched her back to ease the tightness at the base of her spine.
“About midnight.” His gaze flicked down to her body, then rested on her face. “You look better. You needed the sleep. Good timing—we’re about to ditch the car; then we’ll go to the loft.”
“The loft?”
“A hidey-hole that Custo and I share, but it’s not traceable to either of us. Here we go—” He turned abruptly, the car dipping into a city parking garage.
Adam stopped the car and got out. Talia followed suit, stretching more fully when she stood.
“We need daily,” Adam said to an approaching attendant.
“That’ll be thirty-five per day.” The young guy looked bored out of his mind.
“Yeah, okay.” Adam took a purple ticket and gave him the keys.
Even past midnight, the city hummed and snapped with life. An urban rhythm bellowed from an unknown source. Cars shhhed in passing, brakes whined. A voice rose in conversation and then dribbled away into the sound soup. Talia inhaled deeply and caught the soft scent of night, mingling with the smells of old concrete, exhaust, and waste. Strangely, the combination was not unpleasant. She craned her head to see the tops of looming buildings. So much life packed so tightly together.
“I’ve never been here before,” she said to Adam when she noted his amusement.
“Nowhere else like it. This way,” he said, “we’ve got to get inside.”
Right. Monsters at any moment could jump out, teeth bared, with a big, bad boo! and eat her up. Inside was much better.
She followed Adam as he cut diagonally across the street. Three blocks down, he stopped at a doorway. She rolled her eyes when she noticed the slim keypad at eye level. Typical Adam. They took an industrial elevator to the top floor, which opened into a wide space.
He strode inside, saying, “It’s safe here. Neither of my codes would have worked if anyone had entered the building in my absence.”
“Uh-huh. You own the whole building?” Of course he did.
Huge, vibrant abstract paintings dominated the walls, reaching up two stories, twisting in sinuous color. Reds, oranges, burgundy, brick, all layered in oils for dimension and drama. The furniture complemented the art with clean lines and deep, solid tones, just off black. The air was slightly stale. To one side was a sitting area with chairs, coffee table, and sofa, arranged to catch the startling and awesome view of the city at night. The windows extended from floor to ceiling, but the scarred wood floors reminded her particularly of Adam: solid, beautiful, and worn.
Talia gazed back at the windows. “Can anyone see inside?”
“The glass goes one way. Make yourself at home; kitchen pantry should have food. I’ve got to check in with Custo, make sure everyone else got out okay.”
She turned in the direction he gestured. She stood next to an open kitchen of stark, brushed steel, but her gaze was drawn, again, out the window.
Not hungry, no. Not while that view swallowed her. Pinprick lights blinked across a speared landscape. Raw and masculine, the city pulsed with seductive power, a power that she imagined could easily be unkind, even cruel, to strangers.
She shifted her gaze to Adam’s reflection in front of her, superimposed on the city vista. He was bent over a desk, jotting something down while speaking on the phone, his voice a gruff rumble. His shirt took its shape from