Chapter 32

The tears were done—finally—but Caro was a wreck. Her eyes were so swollen the skin actually felt tender. Knowing she had been right to break with Eric had not made her feel better. In fact, she was battling an intense desire to call him. What a glutton for punishment. She didn’t need that kind of doubt in her life. What would be the next step? He’d start checking on her friends—well, if she had any—and listening in on her phone calls?

So she picked up her phone and deleted his number.

That door was now closed. It was time to pack up and leave again, get ready to start another life. Now that she had embraced, or at least accepted, being a masquerada, more opportunities were open to her but she shivered at the prospect at more years based on lies, more lonely days avoiding people so she never had to get close. More days in fear, wondering if Iverson was going to come after her. At least for the last year, she had been spared most of that, since believing he was in jail had given her a bit of a respite.

Now, though, knowing he was out of jail and a masquerada? There was no escape from her dread.

“Let it end,” she whispered into her fists, which were balled up against her mouth. All she could see was the look of utter contempt on Eric’s face, a look seared onto her heart. He’d taken some of her anger with him when he’d left, leaving loneliness and betrayal in its wake. It hurt that she’d fallen for him. Even worse, like a chump, she was hurting at having hurt him.

Too late to think of that now. She needed to protect herself. He’d recover. It was better this way. Keep telling yourself that. Painfully, she rose to her feet, feeling dizzy. It was time to leave. She was going to stick with her plan, which was to get out of Toronto as fast as possible.

She opened her office door and poked her head out cautiously. Good. The hall was empty. That would at least save her from some awkward conversations. She thought of Estelle. Would they have been able to be true friends if things were different? No way to know now. Another regret.

Quiet steps took her down the hall and into reception. No one. She breathed a sigh of relief and dashed down the stairs, not wanting to risk the elevator. What a coward you are, she thought, loathing herself even more. Running away again.

She bolted through the main lobby, where she ran straight into Estelle, who stood at the main door, arms crossed.

“Going somewhere, Caro?” she asked. “Or should I call you Lynn?”

“I’m sorry,” Caro muttered.

“Girl, I thought we were friends!” Estelle fumed. “I knew you’d try to leave without saying goodbye. That bitch Patricia.”

The jumble of words made Caro almost want to smile. Then Estelle asked, “Was he mad?”

“I was mad.”

“Are you still?”

Caro shrugged. “Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“You go home and get some sleep.”

“No. I need to leave. Get out of the city.”

Estelle’s eyebrows disappeared under her bangs. “Seems a little extreme. Anyway, you’re too much of a mess to travel. Go home and think about it.”

“No!” Caro glared at her. “No. I need to go.”

“Lord, it’s almost dusk. Do you want to arrive in a new city at night? Go home. Take some time.”

Dusk. Nightfall. Caro shuddered. No, she didn’t want to arrive at night. She couldn’t. “I can’t go home.”

“Then stay at my place. It’s quiet and you can have your own room. I’m going out for dinner so you don’t even have to talk.” Estelle held out her spare key, already off the ring.

“No, Estelle.”

“I’m not going to beg, but I’m going to ask you to do it as a favor, and it will make me sad if you don’t go to my place.” Estelle waved the key. “One night. You can take your plane in the morning.”

Caro was tempted. “Aren’t you mad at me?”

Estelle looked serious. “I think I know you well, Caro. No one does what you did without a damn good reason.”

“Eric was angry.” As she had been. Still was.

“Yeah, well, so was I. I’m still kind of mad but you’re my friend. People do strange stuff. Not smart stuff. It happens.”

“I couldn’t do it another way.”

“Get some rest, Caro.” The vampire’s eyes were wise, her expression gentle. “Things will look different in the morning.”

Caro hesitated, then took the keys. She thought she’d cried out everything she had, but tears pricked the backs of her eyelids. “Thank you.”

Estelle’s apartment was on Bloor Street West, a trendy but older section of town. Built in a U-shape, the complex had pretty balconies overlooking a central courtyard with a fountain and big iron urns filled with tulips and crocus. Caro took the tiny, rickety elevator up to the third floor, clutching the walls as it wheezed its way upward and wondering if she was going to spend the night trapped in a dilapidated elevator shaft. Because that’s what she needed.

Estelle’s door was heavy wood and opened smoothly. Once inside, Caro leaned against the wall with a sigh of relief. No one knew she was here. Estelle wouldn’t be home for a few hours. She could be alone with her thoughts.

Unfortunately, her thoughts were going to drive her crazy.

She explored Estelle’s apartment. From the building, she expected the interior and décor to be gracefully old-fashioned. Instead, it was a shrine to minimalism. Cream and charcoal walls were bare except for a single piece of art—a huge canvas with a single magenta stripe. The furniture was aggressively stark black leather. The kitchen was stainless steel and gleaming subway tile. Everything was as spotless and perfect as a magazine spread.

Hungry, Caro peeped in the fridge, praying she wouldn’t see Tupperware filled with blood. Instead, there were carrots and hummus that she wolfed down with a piece of stale bread before checking out the guest room.

It was as plain as the rest of the apartment, but the bed looked comfortable and the pillows soft. Caro lay back, her hair spread around her. Night was falling outside and she rose to shut the heavy gray twill curtains before lying down again.

The common noises of domestic life floated through the walls. A woman laughed. A man called his wife to dinner. Kids fought over a toy. She put her hands over her ears, desperate to block out the sounds of an existence she’d never known and never would. When she was latent, she could at least fool herself into thinking that she could pass as a human, and have a normal life. It wasn’t something she had actively sought, but she’d needed the security of knowing it was possible.

Now, she had nothing. Not that it mattered, because now she knew, with every fiber of her being, that she wanted no one but Eric.

A chance she had deliberately destroyed. Rightfully destroyed. He had said he didn’t believe Tom but the proof that he did was right there. The proof of his lie.

The doorbell rang and Caro sat straight up in the bed, her heart pounding so hard she put her hand to her chest. Had Iverson found her? Eric? She sat still for a moment, until another shrill ring forced her legs from the bed. The floor was cold under her bare feet as she padded over to the peephole and peered out.

Estelle waved back, making a face.

Caro opened the door. “Lost your keys?” she asked.

“Crazy, huh?” Estelle passed inside and Caro’s arms itched. She scratched them absently as she shut the door.

“How was the date?”

“Meh.” Estelle made a seesaw motion with her hand and went to the kitchen. “I cut it short.”

“I’m not going to be good company.” Caro gave her arms another scratch. God, what was with this stupid allergic reaction?

Itching. She stared down at her forearms. Itching. Pricking palms. With sudden certainty, she stared at Estelle. “Did he order the cheeseburger like you were worried about?”

“Oh, yes.” The vampire laughed. “A double. That’s when I left.”

That did it. She’d never had such an inane conversation with Estelle in her life. She was talking to a masquerada. Was it one of Eric’s people? One of Iverson’s? She inched toward the door, her mind in overdrive. “Oh, by the way, there was a package for you,” she lied. “I put it in your room.”

“Good, I was expecting it.” The woman walked into the bedroom and Caro yanked the front door open, only to be brought up short by who was waiting on the other side. “Julien?” she gasped.

“I’m sorry, mon ange.” Julien actually sounded apologetic. “Bad place, bad time. But, this is how it needs to be.”

“Mmmm, was our little fugitive making a run for it?” The newly deep and husky voice rolled out of the bedroom.

Caro knew that voice. “Patricia.” Estelle was half-right. There was something between the two. Too bad it was kidnapping attempts and not a nasty work affair.

“You bet, little girl.” The woman shimmered as she moved toward Caro, settling into an unfamiliar gorgeous lithe blonde with pale blue eyes. “You know what?”

“What?” Caro wondered if she could make a break for it past Julien. “Who are you, anyway?”

“No one you know. Iverson said he wanted you in one piece but I’ve wanted to do this for a long time.” With that, the woman punched Caro in the jaw. “See you later, peanut.”

Pain flashed and Caro collapsed. As she fell, Julien caught her, then slipped his hand into her pocket to see if there was anything to steal before copping a feel with his other.

Asshole.