A Want So Wicked (A Need So Beautiful #2)(55)

“If you do, he’ll know. What are you going to say if he asks where you’ve been? You’re not a gifted liar, Elise. Stay away from him. I’m pretty sure he’s the one who tampered with my bike.”

It makes sense. I’m not entirely sure what Shadows are capable of, and Abe can be very possessive. The phone stops vibrating and I relax slightly. “I should call in to work,” I say, climbing up from the couch. “And I should probably do it before Abe gets there.”

Harlin nods, bending to grab his shirt from the floor. I walk back to my bedroom to call off my shift at Santo’s. Margie seems irritated, seeing as I’ve called in twice already this week, but I tell her I still have the flu. She seems to buy it. When I return to the living room, Harlin is at the front door, holding his jacket.

“Garage called,” he says. “My bike’s ready. I phoned a cab since I have to go into Ward, but I’ll be back to take us to Diner 51.”

“I can drive you to the garage,” I say.

“I know. But I need some time to think.”

There’s a turn in my stomach. Does Harlin regret kissing me? Regret coming here last night? “I guess I’ll see you later, then,” I say, not even trying to disguise the hurt in my voice.

Harlin smiles softly and steps up, wrapping his arms around me as he brings his lips to my ear. I close my eyes. “I hate every second I’m away from you,” he says. “Don’t ever doubt that.” And then he kisses me.

* * *

After Harlin’s gone, I wait through the afternoon, alternating between snacking and calling my sister to see when she’s coming home. Lucy never answers. When I talk to my father, he tells me he’ll be stuck at work until late tonight. I don’t mention that I called in to Santo’s. Right now, the less he knows the better.

It’s close to six thirty when I hear the engine of a motorcycle in front of my house. I check my reflection once more, still tingling from our kiss.

Harlin waits at the curb on his Harley, leaning back with his hands in his lap as he stares down the road, wearing his dark sunglasses even though the sky is overcast.

As if he knows I’m watching him, Harlin smiles and then slowly turns. “Hey, you,” he says.

“Hi.” I’m exhilarated, shy, and nervous all at once.

Harlin takes off his glasses and tucks them into the collar of his T-shirt. He’s not wearing his leather jacket, which makes him appear more casual, less dangerous. I certainly don’t mind noticing his arms.

“I can’t believe I’m going to get on that right now.” I motion toward the bike. “You got in an accident yesterday.”

“That wasn’t my fault.” He frowns at this, looking down. I can see from here the large scrapes in the chrome, but otherwise the Harley appears to be in working order.

I walk over and he helps me climb on the back. When my body is against his, I rest my chin on his shoulder. “If you get me killed,” I whisper, “I’m going to be so mad.”

Harlin chuckles and then kicks the bike to life.

* * *

Harlin drives us across town to Diner 51. It’s a small building with aluminum siding and a bright pink door. It’s kitschy in a fifties, alien sort of way. As we walk inside, there’s an Elvis song playing, a few customers at the counter. I check the time on my phone and see that we’re early.

Harlin takes my hand and pulls me toward a table in the back. Since we’re here, I order a milkshake. Then nervousness begins to twist my stomach. What will Monroe tell me about Onika when he gets here? What will he tell me about myself?

I’m only three sips into my chocolate shake when the diner door opens. I recognize Monroe Swift immediately. He’s handsome—in his early forties, with blond hair slightly graying at his temples and bright blue eyes. He’s definitely thinner than I’ve seen him, his features exaggerated by the sharp angles.

He nods to Harlin as he approaches, his expression unreadable. When he pauses at the end of the table, Monroe holds out his hand to me. “Now who do we have here?” he asks in a British accent.

“Elise Landon,” I answer, sliding my palm into his cool one.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He squints as if studying me, and then moves to take a seat.

“This is the one I told you about,” Harlin says to him. “She needs your help.”

“Help that you can’t provide as her Seer?” Monroe asks. Harlin shifts next to me, and Monroe straightens, looking between us. “Wait, is she even your Forgotten?”

“Not exactly,” Harlin says.

“What are you doing?” Monroe whispers harshly. “Why did you drag me out here? Who is this girl, and what does she have to do with Onika?”

I make a sound when he mentions Onika. Monroe turns, his hands balled into fists on the table. And just then, another memory appears, blocking out the world around me.

I’m in the passenger seat as Monroe drives down a busy Portland street. “Yes,” he says. “You are my last Forgotten, but it doesn’t mean this is easy for me. You have no idea what I’m going through.”

“What you’re going through?” I snap. “What about what I’m going through?” I’ve lost everything. Lost Harlin. Lost my face. And soon, I’ll lose my life.