Sin & Salvation (Demigod of San Francisco #3)(49)

Defeated, I grabbed his arm and tugged him toward the other end of the store. “Let’s get you something.”

A woman glanced up as I passed. Her eyes widened, then slowly began to sparkle. A wistful grin twisted her previously downturned lips.

“That’s…weird,” I whispered, hurrying Mordecai along.

His stare lingered on the woman, who didn’t seem to notice him at my side. He bent back to his phone, clearly relaying the reaction to one of the Six, as we reached the men’s section.

“Oh look, this one is nice.” I pulled out a black button-up inlaid with shinier black squares. I held the shirt up to his frame. “Your shoulders are going to be a problem when you fill out.”

“The wardrobe Kieran got me is better quality.”

I put the shirt back, flicking my gaze back the way we’d come. The woman hadn’t followed us, luckily, but she did keep glancing our way, leaning so she could see around Mordecai.

“That…might be an issue,” I said softly, pushing a gap into the stuffed rack so I could distractedly assess the options. Mordecai was right—the shirt he wore was much nicer than any of the ones brushing against my fingertips. “Curses. Kieran’s flare for quality has undermined one of my big dreams—”

“He’s here.” Mordecai’s fingers curled around my upper arm. “Lexi, the shifter I smelled just walked in.”

Mordecai’s tone sent a thrill of adrenaline through me. The doors at the front slowly slid closed. The racks of clothes between us hid all but the newcomer’s head and the tips of his shoulders. Given that he wasn’t rushing forward to procure whatever necessity had brought him into the store, he was browsing. Except his square face and tight buzz cut didn’t dip to take in the display of sunglasses at his right, or the belts and wallets a few paces to his left. He moved forward slowly, his eyes up, surveying. He was looking for someone.

“Mother trucker biscuit fucker,” I said softly as I felt the stranger’s magic pulse in his middle. Lower class three, I would guess. Nothing too fancy, but plenty fancy to ruin my shopping spree. “Are you sure it’s the same smell?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Mordecai turned to the side and held a shirt up to his torso, pretending to consider it. “When the doors opened, I got a blast of it.”

I touched a shirt on the rack without seeing it, working with Mordecai to play the part. “Let’s keep calm. We don’t know that he’s here for you.”

“He’s slowly veering in this general direction, Lexi, and this doesn’t seem like a section that would interest him.

A sly glance up and it was easy to see Mordecai was correct. Taller than Mordecai, the middle-aged man probably clocked in at six-one, maybe six-two—Kieran’s height. A plain, loose T-shirt stretched over his large chest and flowed down a flat stomach. Ratty jeans, run down yet stylish, hugged muscular thighs.

They were clothes a shifter wouldn’t mind tearing apart. He wouldn’t be interested in the business casual attire around us.

I noticed his movement. Sleek and graceful, though not as oiled or confident as any of the Six, this guy was probably a decent fighter. Being a shifter, no doubt he could run like the dickens. Surely faster than my two legs could carry me.

“There is no way he could’ve…” I let my words trail away as I thought back to entering the shopping complex. Our windows had been down, and the entrance was closer to the other end. With the funny microclimates in this area, and my accidental trailing of Mordecai’s smell through half the shopping complex, this guy might well have picked up the scent. “Humpty bugger, fuck a tart.”

“I haven’t heard that swear in a long time,” Mordecai said softly, a trace of sadness lining his words. My mother had been known for stringing curses together until she practically beat you with them. It had seemed like a worthy occasion to use one.

“Right. Okay. No problem. This store is a dud, anyway.” I slapped the shirt out of Mordecai’s hands and shoved him to the side. “Go. Head to the doors. We’ll see if he follows.”

I slipped my arm in his, a means of controlling his direction without looking obvious. “Oh look. These would really fit your face.” I stopped to point at a horrible pair of sunglasses made for a woman. “Oops. My face, I guess.”

The pause was for show, and Mordecai’s stiffness didn’t sell it.

“Loosen up.” I pulled him forward again. “The worst thing you can possibly do is advertise your wariness. That just excites the predators. You need to think big. Act big.”

“That guy would wipe the floor with me. He is big.”

“That bastard won’t even touch you. He’s big, but he’s not as powerful. I have no idea how that translates into claws and teeth, but it has to count for something. And I bet he feels pain a whole lot more than you do. Worst case, you take a few punches and beat him in the long game. Noses can be fixed.”

“What if he has friends?”

“Mordecai, fretting is not a good look on you. Trust me, he doesn’t have friends like we have friends. You think a wolf wants to mess with a freaking Kraken?” I lifted my eyebrows at him as the doors slid open in front of us. “A Kraken, Mordecai. No one wants to mess with one of those. They are legendary.”

“And a Djinn,” Mordecai murmured, allowing me to turn him right.