Don't Rush Me (Nora Jacobs #1)(33)

“Awesome.” Nick claps again and starts up his motorcycle. “If that’s all taken care of, I’m out. I’ll see you around, Spitfire. Take care, and try to stay out of trouble.”

After he roars out of the parking lot, Terrance opens the passenger door of his red Caddy.

It fits him perfectly. “I like your ride, T-man. Very pimp.”

“Well, I am a nightclub owner.”

“I thought you were the bouncer.” I’m teasing. I’d already figured out he owned the place.

He gives me a terrifying grin. “That’s just a hobby.”

“And that’s why I like you.”

When he waves me forward, Henry hisses.

“Are you still here?” I snap. He’s seriously grating on my last nerve.

“You refuse my offer, but you’ll go home with him?”

“Oh. In a heartbeat. And I won’t lose a wink of sleep over it. Have a nice life, Henry.”

I flip him off and climb into Terrance’s car. Driving away from him seconds later is the most satisfying feeling in the world.





Terrance and I are quiet as we leave my apartment with a few of my meager belongings. I don’t have to read his thoughts to know he’s thinking of his missing potential mate. I want to tell him everything will be okay. That we’ll find Shandra, and everything will end happily. But I can’t bring myself to promise that. I know things don’t always have happy endings. In fact, in my experience, they rarely do. Even if we do find her, chances are we’ll be too late to help her. We probably already are.

I try to lighten the mood and distract him. “I may have had a hell of a last twenty-four hours, but I got you and Oliver out of the ordeal. I’ve never had real friends before. Thank you, Terrance.”

Terrance slides me a quick glance, and answers me with a grunt and a shrug of his shoulders. Then he flips the radio on. I turn my head toward my window so that he doesn’t see me smile. Note to self: trolls don’t do sappy, sentimental stuff. At least not my troll. I grin again. My troll.

We let the peace ride for a while as we head toward downtown. It makes sense. I can see Terrance living in one of the nicer apartment towers. But when we hit the heart of the city, we keep driving, zooming past the Cobo Center and Joe Louis Arena into the westside industrial area. I might fear for my life if it were anyone but Terrance behind the wheel. But I know he’ll keep me safe, so I don’t say anything when the city center high-rises give way to dilapidated warehouses.

We’re not too far from the water’s edge, driving on a street parallel to the river, and after a few minutes, the Ambassador Bridge looms in the air above me. The Ambassador Bridge is the only bridge in the city that crosses the Detroit River connecting it with its neighbor Windsor, Canada. I’m not worried that I don’t have a passport, because Terrance isn’t getting on the bridge; he’s taking us under it. “Under the bridge?” I blurt when I get it. I can’t help my disbelief. “You actually live under a bridge?”

Terrance slides me a glance. “You’ve never heard of a troll living under a bridge?”

“Of course; in scary stories or children’s fables. But I didn’t think you guys actually lived under bridges.”

He shrugs. “Stories have to come from somewhere.”

We reach a large cement bridge support closed off by a high chain-link fence. When Terrance stops in front of the closed gate, I assume he’s going to get out and unlock it. He looks up at the bridge and smiles. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

It’s no Golden Gate, but I have to admit it’s pretty cool.

Terrance suddenly hits the gas and, without warning, drives right through the fence. I start to gasp, but I feel the tingle of magic right before we hit, and realize it’s merely a glamour to keep people away.

Terrance pulls to a stop in front of the bridge support and watches me as I force myself to relax. “You took that pretty well. You’re one brave little human.”

“It helps that I understand glamours and can feel the magic. A warning would have been nice, though.”

“You can feel the magic?”

“Sort of. A little. It’s hard to explain. Why, can’t you?”

“Yes, but I’m a magical being. All magical beings can feel magic’s presence.”

I shrug. “Well, maybe your theory of my having underworld blood in me is right. Who knows?”

“It’s definitely curious. Come on, I’ll show you around.”

After exiting the car, Terrance snatches my bag from the backseat before I can and heads for the cement structure in front of us. There’s a dimly lit steel door in the base of the bridge support with a large sign warning people to keep out and that trespassers will be prosecuted. I snort. “Nice welcome mat.”

Terrance grins at the sign. “I think so. No one’s welcome here, Trouble. ’Cept you, now.”

This startles me. “No one?”

He stops unlocking the door and glances at me with unease. “I guess, uh, if you have friends or, um, lovers, as long as they already know of the underworld, they are welcome here, too.”

He rubs the back of his neck and starts fiddling with the door lock again. His shyness is cute. Adorable, even. For such a big, formidable-looking man, I’m amazed he can accomplish such a feat. Suppressing a grin, I ask, “What about your friends and lovers?”