Seek: Project Xol Read online

  It felt as though hours had rushed by as we struggled to kill each other. There was no other way to describe it, but we both knew, somehow, this was a fight to death. I wrested out of his chokehold and flipped him slightly off of me, reversing our positions.

  As I brought my leg to the side to deliver a knee to his gut, a hard hit struck my shoulder. Not his fist. Jesus fucking Christ. I blinked at the searing pain. Metal? A weapon? I’d briefly dismissed the sharp stings of the man’s knife that he’d lost during our scuffle, but this? What the hell?

  “Oh, shit.” It was a breathy whisper from above.

  Was that the woman?

  I shook my head to clear the haze of defeat edging in. Damn, did that hurt. In my weak moment, as I tried to recover, my adversary slammed me to the ground.

  Then he crumpled. I winced at his weight suddenly slumping down on me. Dead weight. Limp, lifeless limbs blanketing me to the floor.

  I grimaced as I shoved at him, and with one more push, I forced him off me. He rolled to the side and stayed there.

  God. Damn. What the hell happened? I scooted to sit up and then scrambled to my hands and knees. If she was wielding a weapon around us, I didn’t want to take any more hits. My stomach clenched in agony as I inhaled deep breaths of air. Cracked ribs, maybe. It’d been a while since I’d gotten my ass handed to me.

  Aware I might not be out of danger—from her—I shot to my feet as much as I could. Never mind my stumble. I was fine. I would be fine, as soon as I got the hell out of here. Standing, I held a protective arm over my gut and faced her. Hunching over, I realized the pain in my shoulder overrode my battered side.

  Crouched in a batting stance, she waited four feet in front of me. She must have turned the kitchenette’s lights on because darkness no longer hid her from me. Pink-blonde hair was tousled and tangled around her delicate face. Wide-open blue eyes shone with glossiness as her chest heaved rapidly. She finally shut her lips and licked them hastily. Still, she waited, her attention zeroed in on the man lying on the floor. Waiting for him to move, perhaps. She had yet to meet my gaze, but I refused to take my sight from her.

  Not when she gripped a cast-iron skillet in her hand so fiercely. Like she wouldn’t hesitate to use it again. Good girl. Never lower your guard. Her fingers trembled as she held the instrument, and she dropped her arm a little.

  “Is…” A loud gulp. “Is he…” She blinked fast. “Is he dead?”

  I fucking hoped so. I hadn’t faced that much lethal danger since my first month in prison—against four men instead of one lone hulk of a beast.

  Her question was a good one, though. I exhaled long and slow, testing my lungs. Sharp aches along my side came in protest, but I shuffled toward the man. First, I toed at his shoulder. Felt like stubbing into a goddamn rock. He didn’t move, not that I thought he would. “Damn near it.”

  I retreated from the man, willing myself to catch my breath, and studied her again. She had the wok-sized pan in front of her now, both hands around the handle. Maybe it was getting too heavy. She wasn’t packing much of anything to suggest she could manage it for long. She was neither muscular nor skinny, but simply…fragile. Fresh. I couldn’t move past how young she looked.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  She brought her gaze to me now, for the first time it seemed, and sharpened her ice-blue eyes into a glare. “I should be asking you that.”

  Meaning she had the right to be here and I didn’t? I’d never seen her in the almost two years I lived next to the scientist. I had plenty of right to be in my own damn apartment building. “Why are you in Rosa’s apartment?”

  The fact I knew the woman’s name must have told her she could trust me somewhat. Her stare softened, and now something like fear clouded her face. Her lower lip disappeared as she bit down and frowned.

  “She asked me to come and…get something.” She glanced at the man on the floor.

  “Who are you?” I tried again.

  “Her daughter.”

  My eyes hurt from being opened so wide. At least I didn’t drop my jaw on the ground. Daughter? Rosa’s kid? There was no way. Rosa was a serenely calm and beautiful woman, a significantly older woman. Maybe in her mid- to late-seventies. This spitfire trembling and shaking in front of me couldn’t be more than legal age. There was no way Rosa could have given birth to this woman.

  Not to mention, the woman currently sizing me up lacked the Hispanic traits that so defined Rosa even in her senior years. This girl’s skin was pale and fair, freckles dotting her nose and cheeks. Straight, light-blonde hair was in a mess around her face, the ends dipped in pink.

  “Her daughter.” I deadpanned.

  She tensed and her tone was snippy as she said, “Adopted. Not that it’s any of your business. Whoever you are.”

  “Just the idiot who fucking saved your ass.” I returned to the man on the floor. “Who’s he?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen him before. I came in and he…he grabbed me.”

  At the faint tremor in her voice, I shot my glance back up to her. Hell, I hadn’t even checked her out yet. No, not like that. Well… Hell, it was kind of hot that she’d cold-clocked a huge man like she had. With a skillet, no less. A woman badass enough to save herself was a rare kind of sexy. But I didn’t know if she was injured, bleeding, wounded. Now that it seemed she wouldn’t pose further danger to me, I could at least make sure she wasn’t harmed. I pushed back to stand, but she came closer to me instead as I favored my injuries.

  “Is he dead?” she asked again, leaning over my shoulder. The ends of her hair curtained down and tickled at my ear.

  I pushed at the brute’s shoulder with my boot and he remained on the ground. Just as lifeless as he’d been when she’d hit him. Blood oozed from his hair, matting the dark brown to his skull. I pressed my fingers to his carotid artery. Nothing. No. Wait. Maybe a flicker there? I pressed harder and waited longer. No, I must have imagined it. Then again, that was a shit ton of muscle corded around his beefy neck, making it kind of hard to feel a pulse. Goddamn. No wonder he’d almost whipped my ass. I’d faced plenty of strong punks, but this dude was a wall of deadly power.

  “I think so.” I moved away from his neck and searched his pockets. “You’ve never seen him before?”

  “I already told you no.”

  I arched a brow since she couldn’t see my face. Hell, if I’d been assaulted blindly, I guessed I’d be testy too.

  “Funny, I’ve never seen you around here before, either.”

  “I live in Ann Arbor.”

  It didn’t matter where she was from. She was here now. As were me and this beefcake on the ground. I reached further into the denim at the man’s hips and pulled out a tube. A syringe. Well, shit. Wasn’t expecting that. The switchblade that I’d knocked out his hand lay on the carpet next to the stain of blood. A knife, sure. Any thug would have that. A needle, though? I felt my stomach tighten at the promise of a scarier reality. Just what the hell was this asshole up to? Drugging women to rape? Sell into slavery?

  She gasped from behind me as I showed her the syringe. I set it down and dug into the other pocket. There was warm metal in there too. I reached into the pocket again and pulled out a gun. Funny. He hadn’t even used it in his fight. Against her or me.

  “Who are you?” she whispered.

  “I live next door.”

  The tips of her hair moved against my ear as she likely nodded. It was a weird tickle that I didn’t want to move away from. I pulled out a wallet but something else fell out with it. A small leather folder. I stared for a second. It was a slim ID holder. I’d seen them before… I flipped it open and felt my blood drain to my feet.

  If her hair was teasing me into a tickle, the image of this man’s ID chased me into a full-body flood of dread.

  “Fuck.” I’d seen enough. I let the card case fall to the floor and backed up. She was right behind me, looking over my shoulder, and I bumped into her, nearly sending her sprawling to her a
ss.

  “What? What is—” She volleyed her frowning stare between me as I distanced myself from the man and the fallen identification. She picked it up as I stood again, rubbing my hand over my face. I hissed as I touched on my split lip and lowered my fingers.

  “What is the—” She looked at the open case and sucked in a breath. “He’s a cop?”

  Chapter Three

  Cassidy

  I killed a cop.

  A police officer.

  I killed him.

  As I stared at the identification, I let go of the cast-iron skillet. I barely flinched as the pan thudded next to my feet, so numbed as I was by my reality. It was the first heavy-looking object I could find in Rosa’s minimalistic apartment. Skillet, hell, it wasn’t just a wok anymore. It was evidence. Proof I’d struck a cop and ended his life.

  I gulped once more and resisted the urge to crumple to the floor.

  I killed a cop.

  Michael Poole, per the ID badge I held. Sworn in to serve and protect the citizens of Cincinnati. A beefy, sinister man who’d tried to strangle me in my mother’s home.

  I killed—

  “I killed someone.” A harsh sob of a hysterical laugh shot from my mouth and I blinked quickly to quell tears. Jesus. And what did that make me? I was now a killer. It felt so filthy.

  “The first time’s never the easiest.”

  I jerked up. Ripping my stare from the unmoving, bloodied face of the cop I’d killed, I gaped at the man who still braced an arm over his side.

  He spoke with the sincere calm of firsthand experience. He’d killed before. Whoever this brutally solemn and serious stranger was, he’d killed before.

  The first time— Not only had he taken someone’s life before, he’d done it more than once. I couldn’t help taking a step back. My shoe touched the metal pan I’d dropped and I debated picking it up again.

  No. I blinked and studied the brooding, tall man across from me. He’d come to my rescue. If he hadn’t rushed in here and pulled Michael off of me, I’d be dead. I was sure of it. Whoever this man was, he couldn’t just be an assassin or psychopath. He wouldn’t have spared my life.

  “You— What you did was self-defense,” he added while I mentally fumbled with what was supposed to be my real life. Quiet, introverted book nerds like me weren’t supposed to be nearly choked to death. Easygoing girls who preferred solitude over parties weren’t supposed to be banging police officers’ heads in with a skillet.

  I had done it to save myself, and him. But it still reeked of an excuse. I wasn’t anyone to play God and take lives. “You called that defense?” I scoffed. As I admitted my vulnerability, I was even closer to tears. I had been that close to death. Too damn near the tipping point of suffocation. I brought my hand to my throat and swallowed painfully again. Too close.

  “Are you injured?” he asked. He took one step toward me but ceased movement with a deep grimace marring the harsh lines of his face. Clearly, he wasn’t unwounded.

  I shook my head.

  “Then I strongly suggest not sticking around here.” He turned his dark stare to the cop on the floor. “Backup’s gonna come. There’s blood everywhere. Our prints…”

  He referred to details I should have been freaking out about. The very real dread of being caught. My brain was too sluggish to catch up to the speed of escaping. Everything he said was true. I wondered about his immediate reaction at seeing my attacker was a police officer, as though he was stung and contaminated by the touch of a leper. There was no doubt he wanted to get the hell out of there. Like I could blame him.

  I wholeheartedly wanted to run from the scene too, as morbidly confusing as it was. But I couldn’t. Not yet.

  “Wait.”

  He cocked his head to the side, glowering at me as he rubbed his shoulder

  “Look, Mr. Neighbor Guy who saved my life—thank you for that, by the way…” I faded into a stammer and struggled to maintain the intensity of his gaze. The depth of his stare chopped up my clumsy attempt of gratitude.

  He sighed and slumped his shoulders. “Luke.”

  “Right. Luke. Could you…come with me?” I gestured toward the door to Rosa’s bedroom. “I need to—” Tell no one. Rosa had directed me to secrecy.

  I glanced at the closed bedroom door. There was a short hallway, a corner of the walls that blocked her room from the area where this cop lay. If one surprise attack had been waiting for me just past the front door, what was to say someone else, maybe Michael’s partner, wouldn’t be waiting for me in the only other room in the apartment?

  Luke shifted on his feet. Yes. He wanted to get out of there. Away from the crime scene. I got it. But I couldn’t leave without the key.

  “I need to get something in there.” I’m terrified of any more ambushes. And you make me feel safe. A confessed killer reassured me of safety. I couldn’t wrap my head around the irony of it, but my soul knew. Luke harbored no harm toward me. Maybe a supreme dose of annoyance. Yeah, I wasn’t on his good side. All I hoped was that he wouldn’t leave, and maybe get that message without me having to say it.

  He nodded once and glanced back at Michael. “Make it quick.”

  I hurried to follow him as he strode toward the bedroom, completely blocked behind his formidable presence. Muscular and massive, he was larger than me, but not as bulky and bestial like Michael. I took comfort in Luke’s strength despite the limp he moved with and the stiff grace that belied his pain.

  At the door, he leaned in and almost pressed his ear to the wood. Listening. Behind him, I wanted to crouch over with him and eavesdrop. Was anyone in there? Luke reared back, surprising me and smacking into my face. Solid muscle pushed me back as he pivoted. He shot me a side-eye, maybe wondering why I was lurking in his space that close. With a lean, he craned over, his attention returning to Michael on the floor, then to the still-open front door.

  Swiftly, he reached for the doorknob and twisted it. Instead of entering, he let the door swing open. We waited. Well, I was just going by his cues. If he saw the need to wait, then I’d wait too. After a moment of stillness, he stepped into Rosa’s room. With his hand raised in the universal gesture to hold up, I stayed where I was and watched him scan the room.

  “All right, come on.” He moved toward the bed and waved for me to get moving. “No one’s here.” As I entered the room, he inhaled deeply and a barely bit-back groan sounded as he rubbed at his shoulder again, rotating his arm. “Hurry. I’ve got your back.”

  Why? I wouldn’t dare to question him, but I had to wonder. Who was he to Rosa that he’d watch over me?

  “I’m…sorry.” I broke eye contact as I headed to the opposite corner of the bed. “For your shoulder.”

  He grunted.

  “I was trying to hit him.” They’d been so fast and violent, beating at each other. Even with the one lamp I’d turned on, it was so hard to see which arm was whose, how long whose head would remain in one spot. Like quarreling animals, it was a damn frenzy.

  “Not everyone can have a perfect aim.”

  Instead of repeating my apology or snapping a retort at his attitude, I did as he said and hurried. Rosa was vague in her letter to me, telling me to get the key. She hadn’t explicitly said where it would be, but if she dictated that I tell no one about this, implying secrecy, there was only one hiding spot I could count on. The exact spot she’d shown me when I’d accidentally cracked the ornate carved wooden ball off the post on her bedframe during one of her many moves.

  “What are you supposed to retrieve?” Luke asked as he remained in the room with me. His focus was riveted to the bedroom door, truly being the lookout for anyone coming down the short hallway.

  “A key.” No point beating around the bush. He was right there on the other side of the bed, making the room feel so damn small with such a huge, strong male in it. Whatever I did, he’d be able to see.

  “A key that a cop might have been willing to kill for?”

  I wrapped my hands around the
oak bedpost and wrenched at it. It didn’t budge an inch. “N—o?”

  He shot me a look and quirked one brow up. “You don’t sound so sure.”

  “He would’ve had to know that I was coming here today to get the key, wouldn’t he?” And no one except for my friend and landlord, Zero, knew of my plans to be here.

  “Rosa clearly expected you to come here,” Luke argued.

  But she’d said so silently, passively, in a freaking letter. I nodded and put my all into spinning the damn wood. “When’s the last time you saw her?” I growled after that failed attempt of opening the wood.

  He watched my hands for a second. “Before she left for Ireland.”

  Months, then.

  “And before that, she was hardly ever around.”

  Did he keep tabs on her, or was he just an observant kind of guy? I gave him a slower once-over, trying to at least guess his age, his…anything about him. A walking, fierce, fighting machine. That was all I knew so far. He had a rock-hard body, not a hint of fat or laziness on him. Short brown hair, like a buzz cut growing out. All power, taut skin, stern smirks and dark, secretive eyes. Just who was this man?

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  I ignored his blunt question and wiped my still shaking hands against my jeans. Blood had caked in most places, but my skin was still too slippery to gain a good purchase on the bedpost.

  “Spinning this off.” Trying to, at least. “There’s a small cut-out cylinder inside.”

  He looked at the open bedroom door then back at me. A switchblade flicked out in his hand and I gasped at the shiny metal. Turning the blade to point down, he held the weapon toward me. “Stand over there.” He approached me and I reached for the knife. My fingers were so delicate and small compared to his warm hand and I nearly missed the handle.

  “Don’t drop it.”

  Did he seriously just roll his eyes? I nodded.

  “Keep your eye on the door.”

  Not trusting my voice, I nodded again, even though he wasn’t even looking at me anymore, his large hands gripping the bedpost. A man bossing me around wasn’t something I’d let fly on any other day. But extreme circumstances called for an exception. Besides, as he was trying to open Rosa’s hidey-hole, he was trusting me to have his back. The potential of failure frightened me. Not only in letting him down, but he had to be right. Michael’s backup had to be coming. And Luke was stronger than me. He’d make fast work of loosening that wood.