Raven (Kindred, #1)

ONE-2

Three glasses of wine later, they left the bar at closing time, which was later than she’d been out for anything other than work in a long time. Although she’d been at Cormack Industries before seven AM that morning, her conversation with Timothy had been worth forgoing sleep.

Caught in the crush of Purdy’s patrons who were all trying to get through the same narrow door, Tim snagged her hand so they wouldn’t lose each other and she was surprised to feel how rough his palm was. The last few men she’d dated were metrosexual types who had no qualms about admitting their dependence on the mani-pedi.

Their discussion featured her as the central focus. Tim listened and asked questions, he made jokes and flirted with her. Nothing after he admitted having noticed her a couple of weeks ago was strange or awkward. Talk flowed and he made her laugh. Until she actually relaxed into the current of their conversation and let it sweep her along, she hadn’t realized how much she had missed social, romantic contact.

Tim guided her away from the crowd outside the bar, most of whom were waiting for cabs at the taxi stand opposite the door. If they waited their turn for a ride behind the other Purdy’s customers, they could be there all night. Her date must have been of a similar mind because he led her down the block to the next street and stopped on the corner.

“I can get you a car,” he said. Most of the men who’d picked up women at Purdy’s were probably making similar declarations.

Staying close to him, she basked in the fresh autumn air, the susurration of the city streets, and the strength of the hand locked in hers. It was an incredible feeling to relax and just exist in time and space with her new friend.

Acknowledging that she was probably tipsy, her coy veneer was gone, and she didn’t mind showing her amusement. “Displays of wealth won’t get you into my underwear, Tim.”

His shining teeth and glittering blue eyes looked as gleeful as she felt. “Any tips on what will?” he asked.

Twisting herself into his body, she began to walk him backward into the shadow of the building beside them. When it came to men and s*x, she had never been shy, but the alcohol certainly gave her confidence a boost. Urging Tim’s substantial form against the concrete, she got her first real feel of what was beneath the expensive fabric of his suit and she was impressed.

Taking hold of his tie in one hand, she slid the other upward. “Strong women turn you on?” she whispered.

“You turn me on, Zara.”

“Good,” she said. “Just one more thing we have to check.”

Pulling on his tie, he put up no opposition when she joined their mouths. Fatigue fled in the face of arousal and intoxication. Although she was the one in front, the strength of his kiss erased any hint that he was a reluctant participant in this exchange.

Reminding herself to unwind and bask in the rush of hormones that had been dormant in her for too long, she was further emboldened when Tim flipped their positions to press her back into the wall. By taking control of the kiss, he had fueled her arousal. Her private fantasies always featured a rough, powerful man who exerted authority over her.

But Zara had no chance to surrender to the moment because an instant later, her companion’s mouth left hers and the shelter of his form vanished too. In sync with her eyes opening, she heard the thud of a body hitting the pavement.

Blinking into the empty space Tim had occupied, she dropped her focus to see the man she’d been kissing seconds before sprawled face down on the concrete at her feet. The dry sidewalk was stained with the sticky ooze spilling from a hole in his head. There was no way that the fluid discoloring his hair could be anything except blood.

Her reactive scream was so loud that it echoed through the cavern of this deserted street and even her hands over her mouth didn’t muffle it. Alone, she gasped for air, and tried not to shriek again because she had to be smart, to keep her wits about her. Dropping down to her knees, she fumbled for a pulse, but found none. Her heart was beating hard enough for two bodies, but she couldn’t share her pulse with Tim’s prone form.

He was dead, shot, and with that clarity came the realization that she might not be as alone as she thought. Glancing around for signs of an assailant, she scrambled into the nearby alley and hunkered down behind the dumpster to hunt for her phone in her bag.

She had never seen a person shot before and certainly never murdered. Tears blurred her vision and keeping her head was difficult. Panic, screaming, and wailing wouldn’t bring Tim back and her survival instinct seemed to suck the alcohol and exhaustion from her system.

Replaying their walk from Purdy’s, Zara tried to visualize any possible attackers. She couldn’t remember seeing another soul, but that knowledge didn’t reassure her. While standing on the sidewalk before Tim was killed, Zara would’ve said that they were by themselves. Given that she’d been wrong then, there was a good chance she was wrong now. The murderer could be closing in on her.

Phoning the police, she begged them to hurry because she was too scared to venture out into the open until they arrived. She was given assurances that they would be quick, but it wouldn’t be quick enough. Hoping she’d be safe if she just stayed hidden, Zara remained where she was, alone and crouched, until the cavalry arrived.

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