Nightingale (23 page)

Once I’d made myself hoarse, I stomped back out onto the library floor. My eyes flicked over the crowd, but I didn’t see Wesley anywhere. His brunette date was chatting up Milton Moore at the bar, although she was having a hard time flirting while his two nurses checked the elderly billionaire’s oxygen tank.
 

It was for the best, I decided. I’d done nothing but stare at Wesley all night. It wasn’t doing me any good, and I certainly didn’t need to start thinking about his alter ego Talon again. That would only make me start wishing other things were possible, things that could never be. Like Wesley seeing me for who I really was—and actually liking me. Supersenses, anal retentiveness, freakish tendencies, warts, and all.

Chloe hovered next to a potted palm near the faux jail. I went over to her.

“I’m taking a break.”

Her hazel eyes widened. “But you never take breaks during an event,” Chloe said, dropping her voice to an awed whisper. “
Never
.”

I shrugged. “Well, this is your event. You can handle the crises for a change.”

“Abby, are you okay?” she asked. “You don’t sound like yourself. You haven’t all week.”

My gaze strayed back to Wesley’s bombshell brunette. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Call my cell if you need me.”

I could feel Chloe’s eyes on my back as I moved through the crowd toward the elevator. I rode it up to the library’s top floor, wincing as the doors
pinged!
open. I’d disabled the annoying sound three weeks ago, right before the library’s Christmas party. Usually it took the maintenance men at least six weeks to restore the noise, which was why I hadn’t bothered to check it before the dedication. Evidently, they’d upped their timetable.
 

I stepped onto the library floor and walked past the reference section with its movable bookcases and computer stations. Normally, college students clustered up here, reading boring, obscure texts and sneaking off to have sex in the stacks when they thought no one was looking. Because the library had closed early for the fundraiser, the area was deserted. Just the way I wanted it to be.

Spotlights here and there provided a bit of dim illumination. I strolled along the glass wall overlooking the library’s indoor garden until I found an easy chair hidden in the shadows. I sank into it, cracked my neck, put my head back, and rubbed my temples. All the laughter, squeals, and commotion had made my head ache, despite the superstrength aspirin I’d taken before the party. The elevator’s annoying
ping!
had pushed my typical dull headache into pounding, migraine territory. Well that, and seeing Wesley with another woman.

I growled, a low sound that could have come out of Rascal’s throat. What did I think was going to happen? That Wesley, that Talon, would swear off all women but me? As if. Wesley was rich, attractive, and single. He wasn’t going to stop living his life—or stop seeing the ladies—just because his G-man superhero alter ego had a one-night stand. Just wishing such a thing, daring to dream it was possible, made me more pathetic than I already was.
 

I sank lower in the chair. I’d told Chloe I’d be back in five minutes, but I was stretching it out to fifteen. Maybe even a full half hour. Maybe by then Wesley and his perfect date would have left.

A whisper of wool caught my ear, and the smell of crisp mint filled my nose. I didn’t know whether to howl with frustration or sigh with contentment.

“I see I’m not the only one who needed some quiet time,” a deep voice rumbled.

Wesley stepped out of the shadows in front of me. His brown hair gleamed under the dim spotlights. Stubble darkened his face, but his eyes glimmered like pure gold. Tonight, he wore a navy suit that framed his body to perfection. My eyes traced his long torso, pausing at his left shoulder and the bullet wound hidden underneath the thick cloth. I wondered how it was healing—and what his date would think of it and his other scars. Would she be repulsed? Or find them as sexy as I had?
 

Sexy, I decided. Talon had been right when he’d said chicks dig scars.

“Hello, Abby,” Wesley said. “I didn’t realize you’d planned this party too.”

“I plan every party that’s any party in Bigtime.” I gave him a wan smile.

He frowned. “Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

“It’s nothing. Just a headache. All the noise has gotten to me tonight.”

“I know what you mean. Bigtime parties can be rather overwhelming, can’t they?”

I caught another whiff of his clean scent. He smelled
so
good. All I wanted to do was bury my face in his neck and drink in his fresh aroma. Wesley was the one overwhelming me, but I couldn’t tell him that.
 

“Yes, they can be.”

Desperate for something to do, I unzipped one of the pockets on my vest and fished out some aspirin and my small water bottle.
 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that vest you wear,” Wesley said. “I noticed it the first time we met in your office.”

I’d noticed how muscular he was. How wonderful he smelled. How his golden eyes caught the light. He’d noticed my vest. In a way, that was worse than being invisible.
 

I washed the pills down with the water. “Why’s that?”
 

My vest started quite a few conversations, especially with new clients. It horrified some of them, particularly the fashion designers like Fiona Fine and Bella Bulluci. Others demanded I stock my vest with certain pharmaceutical supplies in case they needed a quick hit of something. One particularly prominent businessman even asked me if I was a professional fly fisherman on the sly.
 

Piper had been bugging me about my vest for years, insisting that I should let Fiona make me a couple more fashionable versions, but I’d refused. My vest was perfect for what I needed it to do, and I liked it just the way it was.
 

I stared down at the black fabric with its zippers, pockets, and hidden compartments, comparing it to the fuchsia dress the brunette wore. At least, I used to like my vest just the way it was, before Wesley had swooped in and wrecked havoc on my life.

“I don’t know everything you have in there, but I think it’s exceedingly clever,” Wesley said. “And I very much like clever things, practical things. I imagine you could survive in the jungle for days with just your vest.”

His eyes shimmered in his face, and a half smile curved his mouth. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or not. Somehow, I didn’t think he was.
 

I thought of Wesley’s—of Talon’s—superhero suit, of his grappling hook gun and electro-shock visor. Maybe we had more in common than I’d thought. Not that it mattered. Because at the end of the night, Wesley and his impeccable business suit would still be going home with a fuchsia dress, not a plain black vest—no matter how clever he thought it was.

Depressed, I wanted to get as far away from Wesley as I could. I leapt out of the chair, and the sudden change in elevation made my head spin. I swayed back and forth, spots flashing in front of my eyes.
 

“Easy,” he said, reaching out a hand to steady me. “Easy, Abby.”

I jerked away before he could touch me. My knees hit the chair, and I almost fell back into it, before righting myself at the last second. I put my hand against the glass wall to steady myself. Clumsy, clumsy.

“That must be one killer headache,” Wesley said. “Can I help you? Get you anything?”

My stomach clenched into a hard knot. What he could get me was another night like the one I’d had with Talon. What he could get me was a guy who listened to me like Talon had. What he could get me was himself. But that wasn’t going to happen. The sooner I accepted that, the better.

“I’m fine. In fact, I should be getting back downstairs.” The white spots faded to gray, and I pushed away from the wall. “Before something goes wrong.”

“What could go wrong?” he asked. “Everything was perfect when I left.”

“Perfect,” I muttered. “Yeah, everything’s always perfect when I’m around.”

Wesley cocked his head to one side, as if he didn’t quite understand what I was trying to say. I wasn’t sure I knew either. All I wanted was to get away from him.

I hurried back to the elevator and pushed the call button. Wesley followed, the fabric of his suit rubbing together as he walked. The doors
pinged!
open. I winced at the sharp noise, stepped inside, and turned to face him.
 

“Are you coming?” I asked.

Wesley shook his head. He stood there in front of the open doors staring at me. He frowned, and as his eyes darkened I jabbed the button for the first floor, avoiding his gaze. I didn’t look up until the doors closed.

When I was alone again, I slumped against the cold, metal wall and fought the tears forming in my eyes.

#

I used the elevator ride to pull myself together. By the time the doors opened on the first floor, I’d almost convinced myself everything was fine.

 
That I wasn’t pining for a guy I’d never get. That I didn’t want him to look at me, to notice me, and like what he saw more than anything else.
 

That I wasn’t halfway in love with him.

I stepped out of the elevator. The laughter, conversation, and rattle of silverware felt like a drill boring into my skull. If anything, the dedication had gotten louder since I’d been upstairs. I checked my watch. After ten already, and the party was still in full swing, but I was ready to call it a night, no matter how many disasters might be in the making. I found Chloe in the break room, petting Rascal.

“Hey, Abby!” Chloe leapt to her feet as if I’d caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. “I know you said he’d be fine back here, but he looked so pitiful just sitting there and then he started whining …”

I stared at the puppy. Rascal yipped and let his tongue hang out of his mouth. If that wasn’t a devilish expression, I didn’t know what was.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of him from here on out since I’m going home.”
 

“Home?” Chloe looked me up and down. “You’re going home?”
 

I nodded.

“You’re leaving?” she squealed. “
Now
?”
 

I rubbed my temples. “If you don’t shatter my eardrums, I am.”

She threw her hands up in the air “But the benefit isn’t even over yet. And you never,
ever
leave before an event is over. That’s when disaster strikes. Remember how many times you’ve told me that?”

I nodded. “I do, and I don’t care right now. My head is about to split in two.”

“But—but—I’ve
never
handled an entire event,” Chloe sputtered, panic clear in every syllable.
 

I put my hand on her shoulder. “You’ll do fine. Give it another hour, and the party will start winding down. Kyle and his staff will take care of the mess like they always do. Just make sure everyone is sober enough to get into their limo. Okay?”

Chloe let out a breath and nodded.

“All right, then. Good night, and good luck,” I said.

#

I retrieved my black coat, pulled on my gloves, hat, and scarf, and wrapped Rascal’s leash around my hand. I didn’t want to walk through the boisterous party again, so I slipped out the side door. Rascal huffed with contentment as we stepped into the chilly night air. The puppy seemed to be just as happy to get away from the noise and lights as I was.
 

After the puppy did his business, I scooped him up and tucked him inside my coat. He licked my chin in thanks. I wrinkled my nose at his bad breath, but it didn’t bother me as much as usual.

The snow might have done a disappearing act, but so had the people who’d crowded into the streets earlier today. I relished the quiet darkness after the noise of the party. A few taxis cruised by looking for late-night fares, but I tucked my chin into my coat and kept going. I liked walking. It gave me time to unwind after a long, hard day—and a chance to convince myself that I had to get over this obsession with Wesley. Nothing was ever going to come of it, and I needed to realize that before I did something supremely stupid—like tell him I was the mysterious Wren.

I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I reached my block before I knew it. To my surprise, a black limo idled in front of my building. I’d just stepped onto my street when a shadow detached itself from a doorway up ahead. At first, I thought it was just some guy stopping to have a late-night cigarette.

Then, he turned and walked in my direction.

I slowed my steps, but I didn’t stop walking. Instead, I moved to the edge of the sidewalk so I wouldn’t have to get within arm’s reach of him. I also reached through the slits in my coat and unzipped the pocket holding my stun gun. I might like walking home at night, but I wasn’t careless. Granny Cane and Grandpa Pain couldn’t apprehend every mugger in the city.

The guy was about fifty feet from me when a car drove by. The glare from its headlights seared my eyes, destroying my night vision. I squinted and kept walking. By the time I blinked the spots away, the guy stood in front of me. Black leather duster, silver-tipped cowboy boots, guns in the holster around his lean waist, a bandana covering the bottom half of his face.