“Not around here. That’s what my gun’s for.”
“Okay, got it. You’re one of those creepy vigilante types.” Serena looked up at him in a familiar way—the same way I had in the alley. So much for Luca, her “soul mate.”
A territorial feeling washed over me, which was almost as strange as the inexplicable pull I felt for a man I’d only laid eyes on five minutes ago.
He lifted a shoulder as we started down another block. “There are only two types of men who carry a gun.”
Serena and I exchanged a look.
“And which type are you?” I asked.
He smirked. “Inconclusive.”
“Well aren’t you just a pack of mysteries?” Serena rolled her eyes at me, but they widened when she inspected my knees. “Holy rivers of blood!”
I knew I’d scraped up my knees when I fell in the alley, but it was nothing some hydrogen peroxide and bandages couldn’t patch up. “I’m sure I’m fine, Serena. We’ll get cleaned up when we get home.”
She didn’t seem to blink as she gaped at my knees. “I’m sure you’ll be fine too. Once you’re admitted to the hospital for a blood transfusion.”
Rylan slowed his pace long enough to inspect my injuries. Without a word, he broke to a stop and set me down as if I was a pillar of glass. He crouched down to get a closer look, his fingers brushing off the gravel still stuck to my legs. Having him lowered in front of me, barely touching me, made me feel something I’d never felt. Something I’d read about and seen in movies, but something I’d never felt personally. It seemed to originate in my stomach, or somewhere close by it, and spread through the rest of my body, leaving me feeling both full of energy and exhausted at the same time. Like I was flying and falling all at once. I wasn’t sure what it was called—or if it even had a name—but I was certain others before me had felt it . . . and now, so had I.
It made this whole disaster of a night somehow worth it.
“Where do you live?” Rylan asked as he brushed off the last of the dirt and gravel.
I was in such a trance I almost answered
Serena squared up beside us. “On the other side of The Line. Why’s her address your concern?”
“Her address isn’t my concern. My concern is how far you have to travel before she’s home and able to get fixed up.”
Serena crossed her arms, her lips obviously sealed.
But if he didn’t know who I was, giving him an approximate of how long it took me to get home wouldn’t be the clue that gave me away. “Twenty . . . twenty-five minutes.”
Serena gave me an appalled face, like I was giving him the dagger to drive through Josette Costa’s heart.
“Well then,” he said, standing. He still seemed to tower over me. “We can’t have you leaving a trail of blood all the way across town. Might attract the wolves.”
“I’d say we already attracted them,” Serena mumbled as she kicked off her heels and rubbed one of her feet.
“If you think those three were wolves, you haven’t had a run-in with the real ones.”
Rylan pulled off his long-sleeved henley in one motion that was so instantaneous, my eyes widening needed time to catch up. Thank the gods he had an undershirt on or most likely my bloody knees would have become buckling bloody knees.
“And you have run with the real ones?” Serena asked as he tore a strip from the bottom of his henley.
“I’ve run with them, rubbed elbows, and had my jaws at their jugulars, and theirs at mine. I can tell the difference between a wolf and a pup, and if you can’t, best to stay away from here.” He gave his shirt another tear, and another strip curled from it.
“How can you tell the difference?” I asked as Rylan crouched in front of me again, the shreds of his shirt in hand.
“Tonight, you saw those guys coming. You had a chance to fight or flee. The other kind . . .” He lifted a shoulder as he pulled a strip taut around my knee. “You don’t see them coming until you meet your maker.”
A moment and a half of silence circled us before Serena did something that almost looked like a shiver. “And on that ominous note . . . I think it’s time we call it a night.”
“Wow, I’m surprised.” Rylan wound the strip around my knee a few times before tying it.
Whenever his finger grazed the skin at the back of my knee, I found myself biting my lip.
“Surprised by what?” Serena asked.
“That you possess survival instincts.” Rylan half smiled as he tied the second bandage in place. “I wouldn’t have expected that from a girl who’d willingly wandered into the other side of town before sauntering into the proverbial lion’s den.”
From the look on her face, she might have wanted to slap him as much as kiss him. “And what if I’m just another girl who lives in this city? Maybe a tourist? Chicago is only divided by the people who realize there’s a division. To ninety-nine percent of the population, there isn’t a line, so what makes you think I’m in that one percent who does?”
Rylan stood back up and raised a brow at Serena. “Because you know what The Line is. Anyone in that ninety-nine percent wouldn’t know there was one.”
For one of the few times in her life, Serena looked almost chagrined. Like she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Rylan must have taken her silence as her answer. “So I know who you are, or at least what side you’re on . . .” His eyes shifted to me, but instead of looking at me, he seemed to be looking through me, searching for what was on the other side. “But who are you?”
My face ironed out. I was a hopeless liar on a good day, but lying tonight, after what had happened? If ever I had a chance of telling a convincing lie, it was in a parallel universe. “I’m . . .” My heart thumped. “I’m . . .”
“She’s my friend.” Serena shouldered up beside me, winding her arm through mine. “From out of town. I thought while she was here, I’d show her a good time.”
Why couldn’t I lie like that? Life seemed easier if a person could lie their way through it every now and again. Honesty was a double-edged sword that could just as easily cut you as protect you.
“And this was your idea of a good time?” Rylan pointed at my bandaged knees and held up his equally bloodied shirt.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” was Serena’s defense.
“Said Anne Boleyn when she said I do,” Rylan said under his breath.
That got my attention. Not much about him hadn’t gotten my attention. “You know history, you speak like a philosopher, you carry a gun, and you save girls in back alleys. Who are you?”
Rylan tipped his head at me. “I’ll answer that question if you will.”
I was so desperate to know, I almost told him. My name was on my lips when Serena tugged on my arm and pulled me down the quiet sidewalk. Rylan only took a moment to catch up to us, but he didn’t push the who-am-I-who-are-you matter any further. At the first dumpster we passed, he tossed the remains of his shirt into it.
“But it was your favorite shirt,” I said, even though I preferred the one he had on. Probably because of the way it pulled across his chest as he walked.
He indicated at my knees. “It still is.”
Serena looked between the two of us, suspicion written on her forehead, but she didn’t say anything. We walked the last couple of blocks without saying anything else, and other than a car horn in the distance or a person’s voice echoing down an alley, it was quiet. After what had happened earlier, I would have thought I’d be a bundle of frayed nerves, dodging dark shadows and giving alleys a wide berth. Walking beside an Irishman carrying a large gun shouldn’t have made me feel safe, but maybe Rylan was wrong—maybe I was the one without survival instincts.
Serena broke the silence. “We’re about to cross The Line.”
“You do know where it runs. I wasn’t sure after what happened tonight.” Rylan knew just how to get under Serena’s skin, a talent I hadn’t managed to hone in eighteen years.
&
nbsp; “You can run along now. Go save some other damsels in distress, although you might want to pick up a brightly colored spandex suit and a cartoonish mask if you’re going to make this a profession. You know, to make it more convincing.” Serena tilted her head at him and crossed her arms. “I think we can manage the next couple of blocks to my car.”
Rylan ignored her and continued walking beside us, even as we crossed The Line. For all the concern on his face, you would have thought the Costas loaded their guns with roses.
“Did you hear me, masked crusader? I can take it from here.”
“I heard you,” Rylan replied.
“So why aren’t you listening?”
“Because I don’t believe you can take it from here. Evidence points in the other direction.”
Serena’s hand was almost twitching as her face went a couple shades of red. She thundered ahead of us, throwing Rylan a look that should have killed him on the spot.
“I’m sorry about her. She tends to have a short fuse, but she’s a good person where it counts,” I said, trying not to smile as my cousin charged down the sidewalk, her hair bouncing with every step.
“Don’t worry. I know her type. Most of the time, I am her type. But it’s your type I’m not quite so sure of.”
I felt his eyes on me, but I kept mine ahead. I wanted to meet his gaze and have him touch me again and make me feel that foreign sensation, but his speech about wants and needs had stuck with me. I might have wanted a lot from Rylan, but I couldn’t have him. He was on one side and I was on the other, the line between us uncrossable.
I wanted, but I couldn’t have . . . which was as much as saying I didn’t need him. Accepting that was like swallowing a pill that pained the body instead of healing it.
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m not even so sure what type of person I am, so how can you expect to figure it out?” I made a mental note to start making a conscious effort to become a better liar. Or at least better at masking the truth.
“That’s not really what I meant.” Rylan nudged me as Serena stormed farther away. I wasn’t sure if she was moving so fast or if his pace had slowed. “I know your type—innocent, sheltered, conflicted—”
My head whipped in his direction. I could have denied it, but he was right. Conflict, also encapsulating confusion and uncertainty, had become the chorus of my life. I might have been able to escape it for a few lines, but ultimately, it always circled back to it.
“You see, your friend up there,” he continued. “She wears her strength on the outside, kind of like armor, but you, you’re strong on the inside.”
“I’m trying to determine if you mean that as a compliment or an insult.” Every few steps, our arms brushed, and that new sensation trickled back into my system.
“As a compliment, of course,” he said immediately then paused. “And as a warning.”
“Why as a warning?”
“Because when someone comes at you, they can cut right through you to where your strength is deep inside, unlike your friend whose armor is on the surface.”
I continued down the sidewalk, wondering if I’d wake up to find this had all been a dream. Crossing lines and branding and mysterious men talking about strength and wants and needs. I’d had more excitement in a handful of hours than I’d had in the last ten years of my life.
“That sounds like all warning and no compliment,” I replied.
“Then you miss the point,” he said, shaking his head. “Most people hide behind their strength, but you . . . you hide your strength. And that’s why people will always underestimate you.”
“I’m not sure that being underestimated is something to strive for.”
“It is if they’re on the other side,” he said.
My mouth snapped open to remind him I was an out-of-town friend—that I had no knowledge or hand in the happenings of the Chicago underground. He cut me off before I could try out my sure-to-be-a-failure lie.
“You can deny who you are and what you are all you want, but I know you’re more than just another Ostrich,” he said, using the term both sides used for the people who occupied the city. The ones who either chose to ignore or chose not to see what really happened in Chicago’s streets at night.
I swallowed. “What makes you so sure?”
Rylan’s gaze swept over my face. “Your expression. The look in your eyes. The lie’s written all over your face, simple enough for anyone to read. But me and others like me? We’ve been trained to read the other signs, the finer ones that can give a person away before they’ve even opened their mouth.” His gaze drifted to my throat, his eyes narrowing just barely. “Like the quickening of your pulse. Or the way you’re blinking a beat faster than before. Or the way you’re taking longer breaths. Or the way you just stepped a bit away from me.” He edged back next to me. “You’re lying about being no one of significance. Your guilt is written all over your body.”
Perhaps I should have been panicked. Maybe I should have driven my palm into his nose and run, but his words weren’t a threat. I barely knew him, but I was certain of that. “I’m not guilty.”
“Not to me.” He tilted his head back the way we’d came. “But to those three men back there you were. And to plenty of others like them.”
“Is there a lesson here? Or just a reprimand?”
We were almost to Serena’s car. She was already climbing inside, thanks to her furious pace.
“Guard your face. That’s the lesson.” He lifted his hand when Serena blasted the car horn. “Until you do, stay on the safe side of The Line.” His words were capped with a smile.
“Who says I’m safe over here?” I whispered. My mind went to that day when I was five, then to the armed guards, and then to the tall gates and taller walls I was hidden behind. I’d been bubble-wrapped in safe, but even I wasn’t naive enough to believe it was more than an illusion. My life was one trigger pull from being over.
“Aren’t you?” He reached for my arm to stop me.
I could tell him the truth, or my face could tell him. In the ten seconds since he’d lectured me, I hadn’t had time to perfect the whole “guarding my face” thing. I stared at the pavement, hoping I wouldn’t give as much away if I wasn’t looking at him straight on.
“Aren’t you safe?”
I didn’t need to be a human lie detector to hear the uncertainty in his voice, the twist of worry. I might have been about to spill it all, but I’d never know because that was when Serena blasted her horn again. This time, it blared for a good five seconds.
“I’ve got to go. Before she wakes up the whole city and you’re found on the wrong side of The Line,” I said, backing toward the car. “I don’t carry a huge gun with me everywhere I go, so I’m afraid you wouldn’t come out as lucky as I did.”
He followed me, refusing to let me put distance between us. “I need to see you again.” He looked like he’d surprised himself as much as he had me.
“Why?” I asked, feeling the same way. I wasn’t sure his reasons were the same as mine though. Either way, meeting again wasn’t possible.
He ran his fingers through his hair. “To check in on you. To make sure your injuries are healing. Why else?”
I had plenty of why elses running through my mind, but none of mine matched his. “Injuries? More like a couple of scrapes. I’ll be just fine.”
When he managed to pry his eyes from the sidewalk back to me, the look in them made me stagger back . . . right before I wanted to rush toward him.
“But I’m afraid I won’t be fine,” he said, his voice just above a whisper. “If I never see you again, that is.”
I had to replay his words three times before I allowed myself to really hear them. “We can’t.”
He stepped closer. “We can.”
“You don’t know me.”
He shook his head. “But I know enough to know I want to learn more.”
“I don’t know you.” Each objection was more and more feeble.
&n
bsp; “Do you want to?”
I raised my brows. “Wants and needs are two very different things. Isn’t that what you just said?”
His hand wiped at his mouth, no doubt to cover the smirk forming. “Fine. Do you need to get to know me? Because I need to get to know you. I’m certain of plenty of things in my life and uncertain of even more, but I’ve never been more certain than now. I don’t know what this is, but I want to find out, and if I let you go and never see you again, I know I’ll spend the rest of my life regretting it.”
He’d felt it too. Whatever it was, I couldn’t explain it, but he couldn’t seem to either.
“How do we figure it out?”
“I don’t know, but I do know committing to try is a start.” He stepped closer. Another horn blast, followed by an engine revving. “I’ll meet you anywhere. In Manitoba or Mumbai or on the front porch of the damn Krait’s if that’s what it takes to see you again.”
I knew he was jesting, but his words hit too close to the mark. Far too close. “Meet me here. Same time next week.” Where the strength came from to say those words, I didn’t know, but I was thankful I’d found some. “That’s all I can promise. One meeting. One moment.”
A smile spread across his mouth, touching every one of his features. “Life is one moment after another. I’ll take one moment with you, even if that’s all we can have.”
He waited for me to climb into the car, and he was still on the sidewalk in the same place when Serena punched it down the street. I turned in my seat to watch him disappear from sight, wondering if I’d ever see him again. It didn’t seem likely, but I’d keep my promise. We might only get a moment together, one blink in life, but I’d take it. I sighed as I turned around in my seat.
“You’re a fool,” Serena chided.
Picturing Rylan hovering above me, light and dark cast across his face the way I’d first seen him in the alley, I smiled. “I know.”
“DAYDREAMING ISN’T A substitute for living, you know.” Mrs. Bailey paused with a piece of chalk in hand.
On the board was a diagram she’d been working on for quite some time judging the complexity of it, but I’d been daydreaming for so long, I didn’t know what she was teaching or even what course we’d moved onto. I remembered entering the library that morning, saying good morning as I sat, and the rest . . . was lost. Kind of like the past six days.