She pondered his words. As a Seer, Sarai was familiar enough with the tenuousness of the future to understand.
“Then don’t tell me,” she offered. “But, out of curiosity, you’re not just a polar bear shifter, are you?”
He shook his head. “No, ma’am. I’m not even the old man you see before you, which is more than I should say.”
She searched his expression for any clue, but found none. “Will you…get in trouble for helping him?”
George’s eyes hardened. “Don’t you worry about that.”
Which didn’t make her feel any better. However, try as she might, Sarai couldn’t trigger a single vision about George. Past, present…or future. That, in and of itself, was unusual.
She reached across the aisle and laid a hand on his arm. Giving it a squeeze, she said, “I won’t tell anyone, George. I promise.”
Sarai inhaled a sleepy yawn as they waited for the elevator which would carry them up to their new bolt hole. “I can’t believe you brought us all the way back to New York after all that!” she said around her yawn.
After spending close to thirty hours in the plane, the first and last ten both in the air, she was thrilled to be free of it. If she was this tired, she was amazed Zac was still on his feet. After his cross-country trek, much of it on foot and ending with a chase, he’d flown the plane all ten hours since neither George nor Sarai had a pilot’s license.
They’d landed at a small strip—one that handled private jets that size—in, of all places, Poughkeepsie. They’d taken a taxi, for which they’d paid cash, to the train terminal, which they’d ridden all the way to Grand Central Station. They’d eaten on the train, just snack foods and bottled water, but after traveling as long as they had been, Sarai didn’t care.
She’d felt a weird sense of déjà vu, only in reverse. How ironic that her original escape route out of the city had become her pathway back just a few days later. She’d lost track of exactly how many days. It all blurred together now.
From the train station, they’d taken another taxi to a rather nondescript, though modern-looking building, located on the other side of Central Park, catty-corner from where they’d stayed before.
“They’re not likely to think I would return to the place we just abandoned. Especially when they figure out you’re not in the Timik. Even if they discover I’m here, they’ll probably assume I wouldn’t dare bring you back,” Zac explained as they entered the elevator car. Again. In her delirium, she kept repeating her incredulity at their destination.
“Sorry. Won’t ask again,” she mumbled.
In the reflection of the mirrored walls of the elevator car, she noticed just how disheveled she’d become. Her hair was a mess. Her eyes were a dull gray color, appearing sunken, with dark circles underneath. She was so focused on her appearance that she didn’t even notice how Zac had crowded her against the wall again until his hand brushed hers. Only this time, he curled his pinky finger around hers.
Sarai felt a whole lot more alert in an instant. She raised her gaze to find him watching her with a small smile. A question lingered in his eyes. She realized he wasn’t quite sure what her reaction to such a simple gesture would be.
In answer she shifted closer to him and laid her head on his shoulder. The move was a bold one for her, but felt so right in that moment that instead of feeling anxious, she felt…home.
The elevator doors whooshed opened. Sarai hid a small smile when Zac didn’t release her hand. Instead he kept her close as they dragged themselves to the apartment door, the only one on the floor as far as she could tell.
Sarai was too tired to pay any attention to the décor or layout once they were inside. Zac must’ve sensed that because he led her down a hall and into a bedroom. “Get some sleep.”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. “I want in on that pizza when it gets here,” she said as she pulled back the covers and crawled into the bed.
Zac had ordered delivery on the cab ride to the apartment building.
“I’ll bring you some.”
“Sounds good,” she slurred.
The fact that it was four in the afternoon meant nothing to her after the last thirty hours. She was just lucid enough to feel the soft kiss Zac pressed to her forehead before he left. A soft smile tugged at her lips as she drifted off to sleep.
****
Zac awoke to the smell of coffee…and the sound of a piano. Other than the one time he’d come home early to catch her playing, Sarai had never touched the instrument when he’d been around. It wasn’t coincidence that both residences they owned here held pianos. Zac’s mother had played. She’d been the one to insist a piano be located anywhere they were likely to go.
This morning Sarai had selected a piece that was light and airy. Happy. Zac dragged himself to the bathroom where he quickly showered. When he came out, she was still playing. He found George in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, just listening. He nodded at Zac, who moved to pour a cup of coffee, then, together they listened until she’d finished.
With a gentle hand, she lowered the key cover, stood, and pushed the bench in. She looked up at Zac and gave him a small smile. “It’s nice that there’s a piano here too.”
He could tell by how she wouldn’t look him in the eyes that she was embarrassed to be heard playing. He felt honored she’d chosen to play at all while he and George were present. Based on George’s raised eyebrows, he was as well.
Once they were seated at the table eating breakfast, she glanced around the room taking in the modern décor—all sharp angles, grays, blacks, and chromes. Very different from the plush yet more elegant set up in the other apartment.
Finally she said, “The penthouse again?”
Zac shrugged. “It’s been—”
“In the family for generations. Yeah, I figured.” She softened the words with a small smile. “So…what’s the plan now?”
Zac grimaced, not looking forward to the coming conversation. “
I
have business here I can be working on.” He stuffed some eggs in his mouth and chewed.
Sarai narrowed her eyes. “I have a feeling I’m not going to like what’s coming next.”
He finished chewing before he answered. “Probably not. You and George are going to stay out of sight inside the apartment.”
“Excuse me? We’re expected to just sit around and hide here?”
Zac forked another mouthful of eggs.
“Why do
you
get to be out in the open?” Unsaid was the accusation that they’d agreed on no self-sacrifice, but that wasn’t what this was about.
“They know I left Canada. They’ll expect to see me pop up somewhere, but they still think you’re with the Timik. Corrie will appear periodically in your clothes. We’ll get you new stuff to wear here.”
“What’s the point? All I need are jammies if I’m just loafing around,” Sarai muttered.
Zac paused with his fork in the air. “Did you really just call them jammies?”
“What do you call them?”
“I don’t.”
Sarai opened her mouth, then closed it with a snap as she caught his meaning. A blush rose up over her cheeks. Hoping to distract her, also because he thought the blush was pretty adorable, Zac winked, then grinned as her color deepened.
“Well, I’m still not happy about having to hide,” she grumbled. “How long is this supposed to last exactly?”
He shrugged. She scowled.
Sarai said nothing more about it, sticking to innocuous small talk the rest of breakfast.
As Zac left the apartment, George muttered, “She’s not going to tolerate captivity long, boss. She’s a mountain lion.”
Cougar shifters, like the animals they morphed into, needed wide ranges and a lot of freedom. Sarai appeared tame for a cougar, but that was only on the surface. Underneath that passive façade, there lurked a wild cat that wouldn’t appreciate being caged.
“I know.” He glanced at where she sat on the couch, e-reader in her lap. “Get her in the gym. Work on her defensive skills. It’ll help her bleed off some of that energy.”
He glanced back at George. “You too.”
His old friend passed a hand over his mustache. “Yeah.”
“That had to be luck,” George huffed.
Sarai grinned. This apartment had a private gym attached. The wall of windows at one end let in the afternoon sunlight, quite different from the fluorescent lighting in the basement she’d been working out in at the previous apartment. This one also had been equipped for training for all kinds of combat, including the one type for which she a decent amount of talent.
“You think so?” she asked in answer to his comment.
She resumed her stance. With lightning speed, her knife struck her target with unerring accuracy. She smirked.
George eyed her speculatively. “How good are you?”
“Hard to tell since I could only practice in secret. Andie’s dad, who taught me, says pretty good.”
“Show me your best.” Zac’s voice interrupted them. Sarai spun around to find him standing in the doorway watching.
Sarai tipped her head, curious. “Okay.”
Instead of throwing right then, she put down her knives and rolled out two more dummies from the closet where she’d found them. She positioned them around the room. Then, she picked up a handful of knives and set herself. In rapid succession, she threw one knife after another. Never at the same dummy or in the same direction. She even added in a tuck and roll before the last knife left her hand. She hit her mark every time, each knife flying true and sinking deep.
“Remind me not to piss you off when you’re holding a knife,” George muttered.
Zac just crossed his arms, looking at her with that unreadable expression. George glanced at his Timik leader. “I think I’ll go downstairs,” he said. “Get dinner started.”
Not that Sarai or Zac paid him any attention.
Sarai stared at Zac, and he stared right back. After a long moment of dueling looks, he said, “All right. Now do it with your eyes closed while I’m trying to stop you.”
Sarai’s eyes widened. She’d never thrown knives with someone in the way. “What if I stab you?”
“You won’t.”
She gave a slow shake of her head. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Zac’s expression softened, understanding filling his brown eyes. He crossed the room and took her shoulders in his hands. He gave her a little squeeze. “You keep telling me that when it comes down to it, I need to let you fight your own battles.”
Sarai knew he was right. She bit her lip, then gave a sharp nod.
“I’ve got an idea.” He walked across the room to grab her MP3 player.
She looked at the little gadget, then back up at him with raised eyebrows.
“The sounds of my movements keep distracting you. Let’s try something that masks those sounds.”
Made sense. In theory at least. “What if I don’t have this with me when the time comes?”
“Let’s see if it works first. But—” He tapped the device in her hand. “You don’t leave without this on your body. Ever. And you make sure it’s charged.”
Sarai swallowed, then nodded.
She surprised Zac by crossing the room herself. She picked up a black nylon strap with little pockets for the knives. She hadn’t used it earlier, because it was meant for a large man’s thigh. However, she would need both her hands free to fight Zac along with easy access to the knives when she was ready to throw. She fiddled with the strap and managed to rig it around her waist. After slotting the knives in, she jumped up and down to test that it was secure. Then she did a tuck and roll to make sure the knives stayed in place.
Satisfied, she sent Zac a cocky grin. “Let’s do this.” She slipped the wireless headphones into her ears, pushed play on the MP3 player, and strapped it to her wrist, then walked back to her starting point, where she took up her stance.
“If this goes wrong, I’ll kill you.” She closed her eyes.
Music blasted in her ears. She prayed the images would come hard, fast, and accurate, because she would never forgive herself if she hurt him.
Sarai pulled back her arm to throw the first knife. The before she could, a fist got in her way. Sarai used an outside block with her left hand, which dropped Zac’s shoulder just enough to give her the window. She hurtled the knife at the dummy but didn’t wait to see if she hit her mark. Zac moved to sweep her legs from under her. She danced back out of his reach. For the next few minutes, they exchanged a back-and-forth, give-and-take series of maneuvers. Punching. Kicking. Blocking.
Zac was more of a brawler. He’d been trained, and he used his size, particularly his height, to his advantage. For such a large man, he moved fast. His fighting was deceptive that way. But, because he didn’t use one style, he was also unpredictable. Luckily, Sarai was trained in Jeet Kune Do, which was the non-standard method of fighting Andie had taught her. Change your style based on your opponent.
In one move, Sarai blocked Zac’s punch, then spun around his arm. As she did, she reached for a knife and threw it in a backwards and sideways motion. Because of the music, she couldn’t hear if she hit. Zac twisted his hand to grab her wrist, but she’d already released him.
Another knife in her hand, she spun as she hopped out of his reach and threw. Then she was down in her stance to defend, just not quite fast enough. A kick to her midriff doubled her over. She had no idea how he’d gotten to her that fast. The impact was hard enough that it stole her breath. A sneaky idea occurred to her though.
She held up a hand and opened her eyes, letting tears flood them.
She saw the instant regret in his own expression. Zac stood up straight. “Oh, kuluk, I’m—”
Before he could voice an apology, she straightened with her two knives in each hand. They were buried in the dummy before he could take another step. With a grin she gave him a formal sparring bow.
Zac stared at her with a dark frown.
Sarai gave a nervous shrug. “You once told me to use every weapon at my disposal when I fight. Most likely I’ll be going up against a man.” She indicated him with a flick of her wrist. “Many men, in my experience, are thrown by the sight of a woman’s tears.”
“Devious. Underhanded. Just like a woman—”