Hook: Exiles of the Realm Page 7

  “So, that’s it,” she said, with a sigh. “That’s my sob story. Aren’t you sorry you asked?”

  “No.” James shook his head. “Because your story’s not sad.”

  “Really?” Her eyes widened as he took another sip of his wine. “I guess you’re not the type to cry at movies either.”

  “That’s not what I meant.” James sat up straight in his seat and rested his elbows on the edge of the table. “Losing your mother was tragic. Everything that happened as a result was tragic. But everyone’s lives are touched by tragedy. It’s unavoidable. Especially here.”

  Mercy’s brows pulled together slightly at his last words. “San Francisco isn’t that bad.”

  A smile tugged at his lips at her misunderstanding, but he quickly moved on.

  “My point is, the Fates find a way to bring most people to their knees. Most decide to stay there.” He leaned across the table. Her eyes stayed steady on his. In this low light, they glistened like dark polished stones. “But not you, Mercy. You fought your way back up to your feet. You fought destiny and refused to let it rip away your dreams. I understand that story. I respect it. And there’s nothing sad about it. Or you.”

  Mercy didn’t say anything for a long moment. She continued staring right at him, her lips parted, her chest visibly rising and falling with each breath.

  “Is that really how you see me?” Her voice was softer than he’d ever heard it, but a note of skepticism still lingered.

  “Does that surprise you?”

  “Honestly? Yes.”

  “Why?” he asked. “How do you see yourself?”

  “Oh, no,” she said, giving her head a shake. A light laugh bubbled from her lips as that sharp spark returned to her eyes. “I’m not going down that road. I think we’ve had enough soulful introspection for one night.”

  “And here I’d hoped we were just getting started.” He inched his chair closer to hers.

  Her brow crinkled at the move. “I don’t think so. I only agreed to come out with you for one drink.”

  “And our glasses are still full, so…”

  Mercy met his dare with a smirk. She picked up her glass and drained the last of her drink in one long swallow. Victory shone in her eyes as she set the glass back down on the table with an audible clink.

  “Mine’s not,” she said, grabbed her purse and slipped the strap over her shoulder.

  He should have known she’d call his bluff. She’d been doing it from the first moment she’d barged into his life. What he hadn’t counted on was how much he enjoyed her directness. Enough that James found he wasn’t ready for the evening to end.

  Not just yet.

  He took one last sip of his wine before pushing up from his seat.

  “I’ll walk you home,” he said.

  “Don’t worry,” she said, but her hand lingered on the back of her chair. “I live just around the corner.”

  “Then it won’t be any trouble,” he said.

  Her lips tightened thoughtfully. A second later, she nodded. “All right. Knock yourself out.”

  James slipped a hand over her shoulder as she pushed through the mass of people, not wanting to lose her in the crowd. He was surprised she didn’t shrug off the touch when they finally exited.

  Perhaps he’d made more headway with her tonight than he’d hoped. Or maybe the vodka lowered her defenses. Either way, James didn’t mind when Mercy tucked herself close against his side.

  She looked up at him with wide, flirtatious eyes. “So, now that you know my life story, I think it’s only fair that I get to know yours,” she said.

  Ah. That explained her sudden friendliness. She was angling for information.

  A smile tugged at his lips. It was a good move. One he knew well, and even though she was a novice, he still appreciated the effort. Too bad for her she was in the hands of a master.

  “That’s not a tale that can be told in a block and a half.”

  “Is your story really that complicated?” she asked with a laugh.

  “It is.”

  She shot him a look that said she didn’t quite believe him. “Okay. Then we’ll start simple. Where are you from?”

  “Far away.”

  Her gaze turned to a glare. “Any particular reason you moved to San Francisco?”

  “I didn’t have a choice.”

  “Okay. Are you always this much of a pain in the ass, or am I special?”

  “Both,” he said with a wink. Little crinkles radiated out from the corners of her eyes as she fought back a smile. “How about you? You said your father’s family was from Texas. What about your mother’s?”

  “They’re from far away too,” she said with a smirk. “Honduras.”

  “And you?”

  “Me?” She laughed. “I’m from 19th Street.”

  “You grew up here?”

  “Never lived anywhere else,” she said. “Never wanted to.”

  James slowed his step as Mercy turned the corner at the end of the block. They had to be nearing her place, and he found he wasn’t quite ready for the night to be over. Luckily, he knew a sure fire way to stretch the evening out a little. With one smooth motion, he dipped his fingers into the side pocket of her purse.

  “How can you be sure?” he asked to cover the slight jingle as he palmed her keys. “There’s a whole lot of world out there.”

  Not to mention the other two worlds she couldn’t even begin to imagine. Ones filled with powers and riches that made her unremarkable Earth seem pale.

  “I’d love to travel, but this is where my life is—my friends, my family, my community. I make a difference here. I’m needed. It’s my home.” The most beautiful smile James had ever seen lit up her face, wide and bright, and sincere. “Surely you can understand that?”

  A strange tightness clenched deep in James’ chest. “Sure.”

  But the truth was, he didn’t. Not really.

  The realization shook him a little. For the past seven months, he’d worked tirelessly to find a way back to the Realm, but in all that time, he’d never once stopped to ask why. What was waiting for him when he returned? None of the things Mercy spoke about so lovingly. He had no real home. No family. No community. Hell, even his friend had no problem selling him out for a shiny new uniform and a pocketful of coin.

  Of course, there were other things. Treasure. Magic. Glory. Those were the pillars of his old life. And they’d be his again…just as soon as he broke the curse.

  Sure, they might not be the noble values that Mercy cherished, but then again, noble had never been a word used to describe him.

  Another couple of steps and Mercy stopped in front of a worn, metal guard door.

  “This is me,” she said, pulling her purse down from her shoulder and rooting around. After a couple of seconds her search became more frantic. “Crap.”

  “What is it?”

  “My keys. I know I had them at the gala tonight. They must have fallen out of my purse.”

  “What a shame,” James said, crossing his arms and casually leaning back onto the plaster-covered wall at his back. “Guess that leaves us two options. We could call a locksmith and wait for him back at the bar, or we could walk all the way back to the center and spend some time looking around.”

  James didn’t fight the satisfied smile spreading across his face. Mercy’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

  “Or,” she said, pulling out her cellphone, “I could just call my grandmother and have her come down and open the door for me.”

  Damn. The grandmother. He’d forgotten all about her. The last thing he needed was some well-intentioned relative throwing cold water on his moves.

  James waited until Mercy ducked her head down to poke at the screen of her phone before leaning toward the doorknob. He positioned the most likely key on her ring in between his fingers and smoothly inserted it into the keyhole. One quick flick of his wrist and the handle twisted effortlessly in his hand.

  “No need to call,” he sa
id. “Looks like it’s open.”

  Mercy’s head popped up, her eyes wide. “Really?”

  James pulled open the door, showing her.

  “I guess the last person didn’t close it all the way.”

  “In that case, I suppose I should walk you up to your door,” he said, gesturing to the empty stairwell inside. “Just in case there are villains lying in wait.”

  Mercy cocked a brow as she stepped past him. “Villains?”

  James waited until she was just inside before slipping her keys from the door and back into her open purse. She didn’t so much as turn her head toward him as she started up the stairs. James didn’t mind. He was content to lag behind and appreciate the view of her tight rear as she hurried up the steps.

  “These stairs bring back memories,” he said, hoping a little conversation would slow her down.

  “Why’s that?”

  “My first apartment in San Francisco was only a couple of blocks away from here.”

  That got her attention. She paused on the first landing and glanced over her shoulder at him. “You lived in my neighborhood?”

  “I didn’t stay long,” he confessed.

  “Now, that I can believe.”

  She started moving again, turning when she came to the third floor. She stopped in front of the apartment at the front of the hall and turned toward him.

  “Well, it looks like it’s finally time to say good night.”

  “Not just yet,” he said, dropping his voice down low. James inched closer. Close enough so Mercy had to crane her head back to look him in the eye. But she didn’t tense up or shuffle away. If anything her shoulders softened and a soft blush warmed her cheeks. “There’s still one more thing we need to do.”

  Her eyelids dipped down, half-shuttering her dark eyes. The tip of her tongue snaked out to wet the curve of her lower lip. “W-What’s that?”

  He lifted a hand, letting his fingertips brush against her cheek, before pushing a stray curl back behind her ear. Mercy sucked in a breath at the slight touch and James’ core tightened at the sound. He shifted closer. He traced his knuckles down the long column of her neck, watching as her eyes drifted shut, and her body swayed gently closer to his own.

  This was it. The moment he’d been waiting for all night—her surrender. Now he had her.

  He dipped his fingers down into the hollow above her collar bone and lowered his lips…

  Right before the door to his side snapped open.

  Mercy jumped back from James the moment she heard the familiar squeak of hinges. Her heart hammered against her breastbone…even faster than a second ago.

  She snapped her head towards the open door and saw her grandmother standing inside the apartment, her eyes wide.

  “Te oí hablar,” her grandmother said.

  “Abuela,” Mercy shouted, her voice shooting up. “Estoy en medio de algo.”

  “Si. Ya lo sé,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

  Suddenly, Mercy felt like she was back in high school, caught coming home after curfew. Though to tell the truth, that probably was the last time she’d had a boy on her doorstep.

  A boy? Mercy could think of many words to describe James Hook, but boy wasn’t one of them. Flirt. Player. Dog. Those all fit.

  Then again, who was she to mock his charm? She’d just proved she wasn’t immune. And she couldn’t blame her single vodka tonic for the strange feeling of longing that filled her belly. She wasn’t that much of a lightweight.

  The terrible truth was she wanted to kiss James. He made her feel good about herself, because he kept looking at her like she was the only person in the whole world that mattered, and—if she were being totally honest—because he was hot as hell.

  Mercy cleared her throat and gestured over to James before her mind could travel any farther down that road. “Abuela, this is my friend, James.”

  He inclined his head to her in a move that looked both very formal and very foreign. “Good evening. I’m sorry we disturbed you. I didn’t realize that we were talking so loud.”

  Whatever he was doing, it worked. A well-worn smile lifted her grandmother’s lips and crinkled the corners of her eyes.

  “I like him,” her abuela said, looking back at Mercy. “He has manners.”

  “They say there’s a first time for everything,” Mercy muttered under her breath.

  James’ eyes darted to the side, casting her an amused look. The man had good ears.

  “I was just finalizing weekend plans with your granddaughter,” he said.

  Mercy’s brows shot up. “You were?”

  A sly smile twisted his lips. “I was about to.”

  “Then I will leave you alone,” her abuela said, moving back into the apartment and slowly closing the door.

  James moved toward her the moment the lock caught, but Mercy quickly raised her hand. “You know she hasn’t gone anywhere, right? She’s still right behind that door.”

  “Watching through the peephole, I imagine,” he said with a nod. “Relax, I only wanted to give you this.”

  He turned his hand over, revealing a white business card tucked between two fingers.

  “What’s that?”

  “The address of a party. I’d like you to meet me there on Sunday at five o’clock.”

  Mercy lifted her gaze up to his shining blue eyes. “I’m sure you would.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re not planning on keeping your end of the deal.”

  The deal. Mercy’s stomach sank. Damn it. Somewhere between the drink and the near kiss she’d almost forgotten all about their little arrangement.

  But a promise was a promise. God knew he’d come through on his part. And in the end one little party was a small price to pay for everything he’d given the center tonight.

  At least, she assumed so.

  “It’s not some sort of strange sex cult party, is it?” she asked, her lip curling up.

  “Sadly, no,” he said with a laugh. “Though I’m sure I can find us one of those, if that’s what you were hoping for.”

  She shot him a sharp look.

  He extended his hand out a little farther. “It’s a friend’s engagement party.”

  “Okay.” Mercy reached out, and took the card. “I’ll be there.”

  “This one won’t be a black tie event,” he said, giving her catering uniform a once over. “I believe garden attire is what’s on the invitation.”

  She gave him a tight smile. “No problem.”

  “Are you sure?” he said, inching closer. “Because I’d be more than happy to swing by tomorrow to take you shopping.”

  Mercy shot him a glare as she sidestepped his advance. “I own a dress, James. More than one.”

  “Good to know,” he said, his gaze slowly sliding up her body. Dear God, what was it about this guy? Even his looks felt like caresses.

  She reached for the doorknob before she could think about it any more. “I need to go.”

  “So soon?” he said. “Won’t your grandmother be disappointed if we don’t kiss goodnight?”

  A bolt of awareness shot up her spine at the mention of a kiss. Yeah, she needed to get inside and away from him fast.

  “Not hardly,” Mercy called out over her shoulder as she pushed the door open. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”

  “I’ll be counting the hours.” His words slipped through a fraction of a second before the door slammed shut.

  Unfortunately, the inside of the apartment wasn’t exactly the respite she was hoping for. The second Mercy turned around, she found herself face to face with her abuela’s expectant smile.

  “That’s some man you brought home, cariño.”

  Mercy let out a long sigh. She should have known that she wasn’t going to get off easy. “He’s just a friend, abuela.”

  “Sure. Sure.” Her grandmother arched a brow. “A friend that you’re dressing up for this weekend.”

  “It’s not like that,” Mercy said.

  “What is it
like?”

  Mercy shook her head and pushed away from the front door. She didn’t have the time or the energy to answer that question. She had more important problems to deal with—more important and far easier to figure out. “Good night, abuela.”

  Of course her grandmother had never been the kind to give up. That was the greatest gift she’d passed down to Mercy. Of course, right now, it felt a lot more like a curse.

  “He is a handsome one.” Her abuela’s voice followed down the hall toward her room.

  There was no point denying that. “Sure, but handsome isn’t everything.”

  “No,” her grandmother conceded. “But it’s not nothing.”

  Chapter Six

  James rested his shoulder against the gate on the corner of Broadway and Baker, and waited.

  The last time he’d been inside the house behind him he’d left three dead bodies on the kitchen floor. He hadn’t had a choice. It had been them or him, and in that situation James picked himself every time.

  Of course, in that particular battle he didn’t just have his own life to worry about. The lives of his friends had also been at stake.

  Okay, maybe calling them friends was going a bit too far.

  Sure, he was grateful for the skills and determination of the men and women of Macmillan Security. Without their help James might have never found a way to navigate through this foreign world. He certainly would have never been able to bring the exiles together. What’s more, he actually liked them.

  Well, some of them.

  At the very least, they amused the hell out of him.

  That affection was almost enough to make him feel guilty about the theft he was about to commit.

  Almost.

  James tilted his head up to the sky, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth of the sun on his face. In his mind he separated and located all the sounds along the city street. The leaves rustled in the cool breeze that swept over the hill. Half a dozen birds chirped from their posts atop lampposts and rooftops. Car engines idled in the distance.