Kat
Normally nothing registered while I was lost in the music. The experience was a bit like drowning—my entire focus, every hint of awareness within me was submerged beneath the flow of sweet sound and the power of the vibrations traveling from my fingers to my chest to my vocal cords and back again. For a short little while every night, I wasn’t alone. I was part of something bigger—and far more beautiful—than myself.
But tonight, those silver eyes…
As the soft cocoon of the music faded into the clink and rattle of glasses in the bar, the rough buzz of voices from too many conversations in the large room, I struggled with the need to return—but not to the music, not this time. I wanted to return to those eyes. Those molten-metal eyes that mesmerized and menaced like a cobra’s. Beautiful. Deadly. I wanted to get lost in them and, at the same time, run far, far away from their daunting depths.
The man himself held exactly the same vibe as his eyes, and caused the same reaction. Glancing up from beneath my lashes, I surveyed the long line of his muscular body, taking in the coiled power evident despite the fact that he hadn’t moved beyond turning his head away from me. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear he wasn’t even breathing. I didn’t want my gaze to linger on the strong arms crossed over his chest, but it did anyway, trying to detect the rise and fall of his pecs, then moving on to the hint of a tattoo peeking around the side of his neck. The harsh angle of his jaw was shaved clean, the stubbled hair on his head cut so close I couldn’t tell if it truly matched his silver eyes or if that was just a trick of the dim light. He didn’t look old enough for silver hair, maybe thirties, if that. A few years older than me. But still…
I would never know. The man was power personified; I could feel it even without his focus turned on me. And if I knew anything, it was that I didn’t even register on a power scale. Whoever the man was, he had more important prey than a nobody like me. I’d be a fool to think otherwise.
It appeared as if he’d moved on in his hunt anyway. As I watched him watch the room, I wasn’t sure if what I was feeling was disappointment or relief. But one thing I did know: I would never be able to forget the breathless need I’d felt during those long seconds when his eyes had held mine captive.
I was definitely a fool.
I stood and scooted out from between the piano and its bench. The edges of both digging into my legs distracted me from the wrench of separation, the way the piano Lenny kept in perfect tune called me back to it every night. I could play any musical instrument, could create rhythms and rhymes that took the breath of those who heard them. Music soothed me, held me, kept me company; it sought me out, where others couldn’t comprehend its needs. The music wanted me. And it made the night—and my solitary existence—a little less lonely.
But now it was time to go. The music would have to wait for another night.
Downtown Nashville was full of bars, most of them honky-tonks. Lenny’s was one of only a few—though definitely not the nicest—jazz bars near the heart of country music’s hometown. At least here I could play in peace without beer bottles being thrown at my head, and the mellower the music, the more the regulars stayed and drank, which Lenny liked. So he invited me back, night after night. This was a regular gig, but Lenny had never officially hired me. It was a measure of my sometimes desperate need for the music, the connection, and—okay, I could admit it, at least to myself—some small bit of human acknowledgment, that despite the blasé attitude of my boss, I kept coming back.
Every damn night.
Not like I had a connection to anything, or anyone, else.
Walking through the bar proved it. No hellos, good nights, or thanks for the music; just the occasional poking elbow or body blocking my path. I smiled at the regulars, but their gazes slid across my face and kept going as if I wasn’t here. I could draw the audience in with only the sound of the piano or my voice and the will for them to listen, but my body, my face…well, it was as if I were literally invisible. Like a force field surrounded me that deflected all attention.
My entire life had been this way. I accepted it, or told myself I did, at least. I focused on my music and swallowed the need for anything else. Better to be resigned than to beat my head against the proverbial wall—or an actual one, which I’d been tempted to do a time or two.
“Beautiful,” a deep voice murmured at my elbow, drawing my attention despite the noise in the room. “You have an exceptional gift.”
I stopped abruptly to look at the man overflowing the chair he occupied. His sheer size dwarfed me despite the fact that he was seated and I wasn’t. Five-four didn’t carry a lot of presence, and besides, this was me we were talking about—I didn’t carry much presence anyway. Except for tonight, apparently. This was the second man who’d seemed to notice me. “What?”
Brilliant response. One of the man’s cheeks scrunched as if, beneath his thick beard, a grin had appeared. It didn’t reach his eerie yellow eyes.
I hadn’t known irises came in that color.
“I said, you have a gift, Katherine.”
Everything inside me jolted in alarm. “How do you know my name?”
One massive shoulder shrugged, the only answer he gave me. Tension tightened my muscles. Awkward silence followed.
“Well…” Did I thank him? He’d complimented me—a rare enough occurrence that it threw me off—but the other… He didn’t help, either, staring up at me with something in those strange eyes that spurred a desperate need to rush home and bathe. In scalding water. For a very long time.
Okay, forget polite. I murmured something even I didn’t understand and hurried toward the bar. A gravelly chuckle trailed behind me, scraping deep into my nerves.
I needed to go. Now.
Unfortunately the customers weren’t the only ones that didn’t notice me. I took up my usual position at the far corner of the bar, the same spot I occupied at the end of every night, and waited for my boss to see me and bring my pay. Sometimes that wait stretched out interminably, but not tonight. After a few minutes of drumming my fingers against the polished wood, I called Lenny’s name.
Lenny finally lumbered over, brows heavy above his faded eyes, his hand already moving to his pocket, thank goodness. He withdrew a wad of bills and began meticulously counting. His usual, “Done already?” came as he pulled the bills away from the stack and extended them to me across the bar.
“Yes, Lenny,” I said, exactly like every other night.
Lenny’s eagle eye was already focused back on the bartenders, watching their interactions with the customers. “Any tips?”
How could there be tips? I was hidden in the back corner of the freaking room. “No, Lenny.”
He didn’t even raise a bushy brow at the rare sarcasm coating my response. I glanced into the mirror lining the wall behind him. Was it something about my looks? My hair was red, but that made women exotic, didn’t it? Not inconspicuous. Maybe it was because I was small. Or young. I looked younger than twenty-four. Was that it?
Two men noticed you tonight, Kat. Whatever it is, maybe it’s changing.
Of course, drawing attention from men like the one who’d spoken to me wasn’t exactly what I’d been hoping for.
Lenny nodded, and for a moment I wasn’t sure if he was agreeing with my assessment or acknowledging that I was, indeed, done for the night.
“You available tomorrow?”
“I haven’t missed a night in three years, Lenny.”
My boss grunted at that, but absently, his mind still on the bartenders. I fought back a sigh. Really, ridiculous wasn’t even in the ballpark at this point. Maybe I should jump onto the bar and strip. What would he do then?
Probably shake his head and say, I think you want the bar down the street, hon, all the while staring to make sure none of the other employees ripped him off.
I bet Mr. Silver Eyes would notice. Those eyes had practically stripped me bare. A shiver snaked down my spine, ending in warmth that exploded low in my belly, and yet the thought of being that exposed to anyone turned me cold.
Lenny turned away, oblivious to the chaos churning silently in my head. “See you tomorrow then.”
Watching his back, I realized that, except for that first moment when I’d called his name, he’d never actually looked at me.
And I was so close to done with all this.
“Maybe you won’t see me tomorrow, Lenny.” The words were no more than a whisper and he wasn’t close enough to hear, but they escaped anyway. Not that I’d follow through. I needed the money, and getting a job in music in Nashville was mostly a matter of who you knew, not what.
And we all know you suck in the knowing-people department.
I forced myself to relax my clenched fists, shaking out the ache as I strode toward the back rooms of the bar. My threadbare coat hung on the coatrack in the break room, and I shimmied into it and left, ignoring everything but the need to escape. The cold night air settled deep into my lungs, tasting of winter and darkness. The occasional car rushed by, exhaust white in the chilly air. People stumbled down the tilting sidewalks that ran through the downtown area, in pairs or groups, laughing and sharing drunken stories as they headed back to wherever they’d come from. Passing me by. Leaving silence in their wake. I walked by the infamous Printer’s Alley, unafraid of being accosted. Who would notice me, after all?
The question echoed, bitter, in my brain. Then the memory of yellow eyes flashed, and a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold hit me.
I stopped at the red light at the farthest corner of the courthouse square, waited for the Walk signal, then hurried into a quieter part of downtown. My steps were the only sound as I made my way toward my one-room apartment above the dirty pawnshop on the edge of Nashville’s inner city. I had been lucky to find it, lucky I could afford it on the little I brought home in pay from the bar. Before Lenny’s…well, things had been rough. The foster-care system had pushed me onto the streets at eighteen, no money for a college education or decent housing or a car. I’d done the best I could with my talent and a high school diploma, building a home in my tiny apartment and a quiet life. A damn good life, alone or not.
The blare of a car alarm shook me out of my self-absorption. In the abrupt silence that followed the sound cutting off, I noticed something I’d been too busy arguing with myself to realize: the street was too quiet. Totally silent—no traffic, no blaring radios or shouted arguments or…
Every hair from my wrists to my nape stood on end. How long had it been this quiet?
A glance over my shoulder showed nothing moving among the cars lined up in the lot of the tiny used-car dealership. The tax prep office next door was equally empty. Across the street, blank brick walls stared back at me. Silence should be a good thing, but it didn’t feel good. It felt—
My toe caught in a crack in the sidewalk. Blind in the dark and confusion, I threw out my hands to meet the hard concrete pavement. What I touched wasn’t concrete, though; it was flesh. Slowly, heart pounding, I looked up, up, up into eyes glittering with menace. Eyes I didn’t recognize. I didn’t recognize the body either, nor the teeth that flashed in the darkness, seeming far longer than they should be.
Before I could register more than that, rough hands spun me into the yawning black cavern of a nearby alley.
Instinct had me opening my mouth to scream, but a hard hand clamped down, covering the lower half of my face before it could escape—and cutting off my air. I sucked in, desperate to breathe, but inhaled only musky sweat, the taste bitter on my tongue. My lungs squeezed down on the nothing that filled them. Even before the lack of air fully registered, I was fighting, clawing and twisting against the unyielding body that held me captive.
“Beautiful Katherine.”
I flinched, my skull cracking against the hard chest at my back. I knew that voice.
My heartbeat pounded in my ears as I watched a dark shape emerge from the shadows before me—the man from Lenny’s, the one who’d spoken to me after my performance tonight. His amber eyes glowed in the black hole of the alley. I realized I was trying to shake my head, but all I really accomplished was straining my neck muscles until I thought they’d snap. Still, I couldn’t stop. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. What the hell did he want with me?
The man stepped closer. A whimper escaped into the hand covering my mouth. The grip was hurting me, but I had a feeling the man in front of me was planning much worse. When he seized my arm and tore me away from my captor, I found I’d been right—muscle and bone were crushed beneath that punishing grip. This time my scream escaped, ringing against the walls that hid me from help, drawing laughter from far more than two men. Through the agony I saw a hint of white in the dark—the amber-eyed man’s feral grin. He enjoyed my pain.
Dangling in his brutal grasp, I watched several bulkier figures surround me. All male, all with greed in their shining eyes. What they wanted was obvious. So was the fact that I wouldn’t survive it.
“I told you, Katherine,” the man said, drawing my gaze away from my pending fate, back to his cruel face. “You have a gift. I’m here to collect it—and you.”