Pretty When They Collide (Pretty When She Dies 0.5)(43)

And then the softest touch rested on her cheek and the darkness fled. Instead, she felt the peace and quiet of the night fill her. Aimee’s white magic was a light inside of her, glowing as softly as the tranquil moon. Releasing Michael, Cassandra rose and turned toward Aimee.

With sweet gentleness, Aimee kept her hand pressed to Cassandra’s flushed cheek. “You’re not a monster,” she said in a soft voice.

Nodding, unable to speak for fear of the emotion that might choke her, Cassandra willed her hand to heal.

“We need to go,” Aimee said at last, her hand dropping to her side.

“That f*cker, Frank, did you get him?” Cassandra asked, following Aimee to the wall.

Aimee shook her head. “I got Arnost, but Frank vanished.” Pain and anger filled her voice and were etched into her brow.

Taking hold of Aimee’s arm, Cassandra bent toward her. Staring into her eyes, she said, “He will never hurt you again. I swear it.”

A small smile pressed itself to Aimee’s lips.

“Outside!” a voice called out from the interior of the house. “They’re outside! I see them.”

Aimee grabbed Cassandra’s hand. “Time to fly.”

A small yelp escaped Cassandra’s lips as they were flung off the ground and onto the high wall. They landed on the narrow edge and Aimee whirled about and tossed several spells into the garden below. Purplish-blue flames erupted. Michael collapsed with a groan, but did not burn.

“It’s not real fire. It’s the manifestation of the spell. It’ll knock all of them out for a few hours,” Aimee explained.

Cassandra grinned. “You do think of everything.”

“I try,” Aimee admitted with a shy smile. “Now follow me.”

They rushed along the top of the wall to a walkway that cut past the main house to the large garage nearby. Aimee quickly punched in the security code and they slipped inside. The lights flicked on to reveal a bank of sports cars, a limousine, and a collection of motorcycles.

“You pick,” Aimee said.

Cassandra stared at the pegboard where all the keys dangled. She snagged a set with a Harley logo on it.

“I had a feeling you’d pick that,” Aimee said, her laughter a balm to Cassandra’s anxious mind.

Aimee activated the garage door while Cassandra found the correct motorcycle and climbed onboard the gleaming red and chrome beauty. Aimee ran back and slid onto the seat behind Cassandra. Her lean arms wrapped around Cassandra’s waist and her body pressed lightly against the dhamphir’s back.

Cassandra gunned the engine and kicked up the stand. The big bike rumbling under her, she rode it out of the garage and along the long drive. She didn’t bother with the lights, but rode straight toward the gated entrance using her keen vision to guide her. Aimee leaned into her so she could reach around and hit the button on a small device attached to the handlebars. The gates opened smoothly onto the road beyond.

Maintaining a tight hold on Cassandra, Aimee rested her chin on the dhamphir’s shoulder. “Are we going to the rental car?” Aimee asked in her ear.

“No, we can’t trust it,” Cassandra answered.

“So where are we going?”

“How do you like Prada?” Cassandra asked, tilting her head so she could catch a glimpse of Aimee’s face.

Their attention was drawn away by the sound of Frank’s helicopter lifting off from the helipad at the far end of the estate. Its lights shone like small white and red stars against the desert sky.

“He escaped,” Aimee sighed.

“So did you.”

“Yeah,” Aimee answered, her voice filled with wonder. “I did.”

Cassandra pressed on the gas and the two women fled into the night.





Chapter 18:

Free to Decide



In the early morning hours, the desert was at its coldest and Aimee shivered in Cassandra’s denim jacket. She watched Cassandra fuss with her messenger bag. It was the only thing she had grabbed from their very quick stop at the motel. It had been a gamble to recover Cassandra’s personal belongings, but with Frank’s men knocked out until dawn they had decided to risk it. Cassandra had worried that her broker, Scott, may have sent another team after her, but they had not encountered anyone.

Clad in jeans, boots, and a form-fitting Superman t-shirt, Cassandra looked beautiful with her hair falling gently around her chin. Straddling the motorcycle as she riffled through her personal belongings, she looked nervous. “Found it!” She yanked out a cellphone. “This is my personal one, so it should be safe.”

Cassandra had left everything her broker had given her for the job in a heap on the hotel room floor. She didn’t want to risk him tracking her through the items. She had explained to Aimee that she had always kept her exact location a secret from Scott and never told him the false name she lived her normal life under.

Aimee smiled. “I told you that you had it.”

“I was about to f*cking freak out if I left it in the rental car,” Cassandra grunted. She began typing away on the screen.

The cold wind didn’t seem to affect the dhamphir, but it had Aimee shivering. They were miles out of Marfa and hiding behind the fake Prada Store that had been erected as an art display. The ivory facade was beginning to show wear and tear from the elements, but it was still in reasonable shape. There was no way to get into the building without tripping the alarm, and it wasn’t an actual store anyway. The shoes on display really were Prada, but there was only one shoe of each style. As far as Aimee knew, no one ever changed the shoes to the latest Prada collection.