Fury of Obsession (Dragonfury Series Book 5) (10 page)

As the door clicked closed behind her, Evelyn halted in the middle of the hallway. Probably not the wisest course of action. She shouldn’t be standing still. She should be walking instead, shoulders squared, chin up, stilettos moving at a steady clip across expensive carpet, heading for the lobby and unexpected freedom. She blew out a shaky breath. Heck, forget
walking
. She should be running. Jumping for joy too. Rejoicing in ways only the victorious could—with hard liquor and a raised glass. But with shock on the rise and her feet rooted to the floor, she couldn’t force herself to move.

Or keep from shaking.

A normal reaction, no doubt. Relief could do that to a girl. Wreck her composure. Devastate good sense. Make the soles of her shoes stick to the floor.

Evelyn drew another shallow breath. She needed a minute. Just a few seconds before she walked away. Maybe then she’d regain what little remained of rational thought an
d . . .

Another tremor rattled through her.

She shook her head. Ah well, guess that settled it. To hell with being strong. She wanted to cry instead. Let loose and allow tears to flow while she thanked God for her near miss. For pulling her out of the fire and providing an unexpected solution to a bad situation. Evelyn swallowed past the lump in her throat. Holy lord, she’d been given a gift—the best kind of reprieve. More time coupled with a way ou
t . . .

At the eleventh hour.

Not that she cared about the time frame. Saved amounted to just tha
t . . .
saved
. The manner of it didn’t matter. Neither did the reason behind her salvation. Bowing her head, Evelyn clutched at her handbag, hugging it to her chest. The roll of cash sat inside its leather confines. Three thousand dollars, more than half her next payment to Markov. The answer to all her prayers, and—thank God. She’d done it. Found a way out of the mess. Arrived at a remedy. One that would protect her from the Russian mob.

A light at the end of the tunnel. A little bit of hope.

She’d found both tonight.

All thanks to a gorgeous guy with
sharing
issues.

Evelyn huffed, the exhalation half-laugh, half-sob.
Exclusivity
. Oh, how she loved that word. And Venom for uttering it, insisting she stay away from other men. His warning rang inside her head.
No more meeting strangers in hotel rooms
. With a single phrase, he’d turned the situation around. Returned her self-worth. Made her believe in good fortune again an
d . . .

Lessened her shame.

All right, so it wasn’t perfect. She didn’t know him. Couldn’t begin to guess what he intended for her either. Add that to the fact she reacted to him in, well—she shivere
d . . .
how best to describe it? She rubbed her lips together. Heated was a good way to explain her response to him. Passion-fueled combustion was another. Mix in desirous greed an
d . . .
uh-huh. Evelyn blew out a long breath. All three labels worked far too well.

To perfection, actually.

Recall raked the inside of her skull, providing a visual, driving remembered sensation, making pleasure rise and her shiver. Evelyn grimaced. Dear God, she’d asked him for more. Begged for his kiss. Would’ve followed his lead while he laid her down, giving him everything he demanded. She frowned. There was something horribly wrong about that. Very naughty too. She didn’t enjoy sleeping with strangers. Had never been the adventure-seeking sort. Or craved anonymity in the sexual arena. She liked knowing a guy before getting personal, never mind intimate. But then, extraordinary measures called for uncomfortable resolutions.

The desperate couldn’t be choosy. Which meant her reaction to Venom needn’t enter the equation. No matter his charms—and her interest—he was a means to an end. Pure. Simple. No reason to explore further. He offered a way out of the darkness. A chance to stay saf
e . . .
a path back to herself and self-worth. So, no question. Even less doubt. Only an idiot would turn down his generosity.

Set aside his unbelievable looks for a moment.

Forget about his gentle touch and obvious skill with women.

Ignore that he made her tingle with a glance.

Her attraction to him could go hang itself. The facts remained the same—agree to more dates and sex with him. Or sleep with a multitude of men in Trixie’s stable to make the kind of money she needed to stay alive. Fear drew an icy path down her spine. Evelyn glanced at the door behind her. Room 301. Venom was still in there an
d . . .

She swallowed.

Yup. It was a done deal. File agreeing to his terms under no-brainer.

Despite her unease, he was the better bet. His plans for her didn’t matter. Neither should his possessiveness. Oh, she’d seen it—in his eyes, the set of his jaw, the timbre of his deep voice too. His lethal vibe said it all. After one encounter, he already considered her his. He hadn’t said it, but she recognized all the
you’re-mine-for-the-time-being
signs. A bad thing? A fortuitous turn of events considering her circumstances? Evelyn didn’t know. But one thing for sure? Her assumptions about him were bang on. Men like him never left anything to chance, so like it or not, she was now on his hit list. A target with a bull’s-eye on her back.

The realization made her nerves jangle.

Dragging her gaze away from the door, Evelyn forced herself to move. Her stilettos sank into the plush carpet, silencing her footfalls as she beat feet down the corridor. And away from Venom. An excellent strategy. One rooted in self-preservation. Not that she thought he would hurt her. He’d already proven otherwise, bu
t . . .

She needed some time. Enough space to decide how best to deal with him. Venom wasn’t a pushover. Her brief interlude with him made that all too clear. He wouldn’t be swayed by an easy smile. Or manipulated by her. Instinct told her he liked his way. Probably got it more often than not too, s
o . . .
new game plan. She required one before she met him again. Before she walked into Figorelli’s—one of the most exclusive restaurants in Seattle—and sat down to share a meal with him. If she didn’t, she’d end up in serious trouble. Neck-deep with no idea how to extract herself from the situation—and Venom—when their association ended.

It might not happen next week. Maybe not next month either. But it would en
d . . .

Eventually.

She’d told Trixie the truth. The second she raised enough money and paid off her mother’s debt, she’d be gone. Back to Granite Falls with her grandmother. Back on an even keel and headed in the right direction—on her way to a new job (fingers crossed) that didn’t include selling herself to the highest bidder.

Pausing at the top of the stairs, Evelyn took a moment to settle down. Charging down the steps, across the lobby and out the front door wasn’t a good idea. She’d cause a stir. Disrupt the party. Draw too many looks from the crowd gathered in the foyer. The thought made her tense. She didn’t want the attention. Going unnoticed—slipping under the radar instead of standing out, settling her frayed nerves instead of adding to the tension—sounded better right now.

More pride affirming too.

One hand running along the smooth curve of the banister, Evelyn descended one step at a time. No rush. No reason for anyone to look up and notice her. No reason for Trixie to end her conversation with an older man in the middle of the lobby and turn around to see her escaping the Luxmore hours earlier than planned. Evelyn swallowed the lump in her throat and, gaze riveted to the madam, kept her feet moving. No way she wanted to tangle with Trixie. Or explain why she wouldn’t be increasing the brunette’s revenues by taking on more clients.

Fantastic strategy.

A little sneaky, granted. But in all honesty, she couldn’t handle any more upheaval. Not tonight. A phone call to Trixie in the morning would suffice. In the meantime, she must stay on task and remain calm. Otherwise she wouldn’t make it down the stairs, never mind all the way to the front door.

Pace steady, Evelyn leveled her chin and continued on. One step, two steps, three step
s . . .
four. Not much farther now. Almost there. Half a staircase away—eight, maybe nine treads—until she reached the main lobby. Her gaze skipped over the crowd again. Drinks in hand, men laughed. Decked out in the best money could buy, women smiled. The voice-fueled din rose, happy chatter collecting against the fancy cornices three stories up as she reached the bottom stair. A quick sidestep and she slid behind a group of businessmen. Talk of the latest golf game reached her.

Evelyn’s mouth curved. Mission accomplished. She’d blended in. Was now hidden in plain sight, just moments from the front doors and the refreshing chill of night air. Framed by steel and glass doors, she could see valets standing post and—

A prickle ghosted over the nape of her neck.

Halfway across the lobby, she paused to glance over her shoulder. Nothing but a sea of normal. No one followed her. Busy in conversation, those gathered paid her no mind. And yet, the strange vibration intensified. Instinct drew her attention to the mezzanine beyond the curved staircase. She frowned. Empty. Nothing and nobody. An empty stretch of railing, nothing more, bu
t . . .

Another shiver rolled, nudging intuition.

Evelyn frowned. God, it was weird. The warm tingle kept nipping at her, raising her internal alarm system, warning her to watch out. Now she couldn’t shake the feeling someone stood watching he
r . . .
from somewhere inside the Luxmore. Evelyn scanned the mezzanine level again. Still nothing. Not a single thing out of the ordinary. Which raised the question. Had the night finally taken its toll, pushing her toward paranoia? Maybe. She huffed. Strike that. Replace it with
absolutely
. Her reaction proved the point. No one stood watching her walk across the lobby. The Luxmore’s patrons were too busy drinking cocktails, laughing it u
p . . .
impressing those in the same social circle.

The prickle nicked her again.

Evelyn put her fancy footwear to good use. Heels clicking across the marble inlay, she dug for her keys. She found a hair pick instead. With a grumble, she tossed it back into the black hole that constituted her bag and tried again. She sighed. For the love of God, what a mess. She really must do something about that. Like cull all the unnecessary stuff she carried around like flotsam inside the oversize handbag.

Or maybe buy a smaller one.

Excellent idea. Maybe she would in the not-too-distant futur
e . . .
when she could afford it again. Still digging, Evelyn shoved her wallet out of the way as she approached the front door. The doorman greeted her with a smile. She nodded back, waited for him to do his job, then stepped over the threshold. Frosty air swirled around her feet and nipped at her bare legs. She sighed in relief, welcoming the chill and—

A jangle came from the bottom of her bag. Her fingertips brushed metal. Her mouth curved. Jackpot. Car keys found and retrieved.

Pausing on the curb, Evelyn palmed her key ring. Another quick search unearthed her cell phone. She touched the screen with her thumb. No new messages. Perfect. Better than good considering she didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not right now. Maybe not for a while. Well, at least, until she met Venom tomorrow night. Until then, she’d enjoy some alone time. But first things first. She had a half-hour drive to reach Granite Falls. Which mean
t . . .

Time to get a move on and find her car.

Without a backward glance, she stepped onto the circular drive. Lights played across stone, illuminating icy patches on the pavers. Balanced on the balls of her feet, she hopscotched, avoiding the slippery spots, and headed for the sidewalk. Night shadows lengthened, casting eerie patterns as she neared the street. The shrubbery next to her rustled. Stifling a shiver, she pulled at the edges of her cashmere shawl. The wrap-up-and-take-cover approach didn’t help. The odd tingle refused to leave her alone. Now it pulled at her skin, shoving unease to the foreground, making her wonder whether Markov stood watching from somewhere.

She glanced over her shoulder again.

Still nothing. Still no one.

Heart thumping, Evelyn upped the pace, resisting the urge to look behind her a second time. She was so close now. Another minute and she’d be free. On the other side of the avenue. Mere feet from the safety of her car. Close to having her doors locked and the creep factor under control. One key turn from driving away and—

Her cell phone vibrated in her hand.

The buzz startled her.

Evelyn flinched, then stepped off the cobblestones and onto the uneven sidewalk. She teetered a second, wobbling on three-inch heels before righting her balance. The Samsung buzzed again. Settling her ragged nerves, she scanned the parking lot across the street, then glanced at her phone. Caller ID provided the name. Evelyn frowned at the screen. Weird. Very what-the-hell on a busy Friday night, considering her grandmother never called after nine p.m.

With a flick of her thumb, Evelyn answered the call. “Hi, Mema. What are you doing up so la—”

“Evelyn,” a guy said, raspy voice coming through the earpiece.

She blinked in surprise. A second passed before she recognized the voice. “Dr. Milford?”

“Yes,” he said, sounding out of breath. Not at all like the unflappable doctor she bumped into at the corner store on a regular basis. On the other side of seventy, Dr. Milford had seen it all as Granite Falls’ long-time physician. The man deserved a medal. For bravery in the face of overwhelming odds. Evelyn should know. She’d accompanied her grandmother to more doctor appointments than she wanted to remember. Been forced to stand outside the examination room and listen to Dr. Milford argue with Mema about the dangers of high cholestero
l . . .
and her grandmother’s fondness for butter. Slathered on everything. “Where are you?”

“In town.”