Midnight's Kiss (Elder Races #8)(60)

The wind screamed in her ears, and it whipped her hair around. Tears streamed from her eyes so that she couldn’t see. She didn’t dare loosen her hold to wipe her face. Instead, she let go of everything – any worry that enemies might be tracking them, any fear at their high speed – and buried her face in Julian’s back, putting all her trust in him. After being confined in the dark for so long and living in serious fear for her life, the release she felt at their speed was exhilarating.

As aggressive as he was, he was still forced to slow when they reached the congested city streets near Nob Hill. A couple of times, he avoided coming to a standstill by driving up onto the sidewalks, scattering pedestrians.

The sound of sirens wailed behind them.

She looked behind them, peering through her crazy mess of tangled hair. A police cruiser tried to follow in pursuit but was forced to plunge to a halt behind traffic blocking the street.

I’m rethinking our destination, Julian said. If Justine has gotten help, it could get more dangerous the closer we get to my property.

How likely is that? she asked.

His reply was grim. I don’t know. When she came to the tunnels, she wasn’t expecting us to be free, but by this point, she’s also had time to regroup and strategize, so anything’s possible. Every time we’ve had an exchange, she’s escalated. And I don’t like how vulnerable and exposed you are.

She had been so focused on finally reaching comfort and sanctuary, his comments shook her. After a brief internal struggle, she said, The mansion’s guarded, and you’ve been missing since yesterday, so they must be on high alert and watching the immediate vicinity. Screw it. Julian, just go for it.

He hesitated only for a moment. Then the Harley leaped forward again, hurtling around street corners and racing the final blocks. Finally the mansion came into view. They fishtailed to a halt by the intercom box in front of the gates.

Warily studying their surroundings, Melly drew her gun and braced the heel of her hand against Julian’s shoulder, while he punched a button and snapped, “Gregoire, open the damned gate.”

The wrought iron whirred into motion immediately. As soon as a gap several feet wide appeared, Julian revved the engine and they shot through.

Hang on, he told her.

She clamped on him, clinging to his waist with all her strength.

Instead of slowing to a stop in the drive near the front doors, he sent the Harley rocketing up the front steps and onto the spacious portico.

“Whoa!” she shouted.

The front door opened as they plunged to a stop. Julian blurred into motion, sweeping her off the bike and into shelter before her feet had a chance to touch the ground.

As Gregoire slammed the door shut, Julian set her down. After such an intense finish to the ride, she was shaking wildly. He kept one arm tight around her while he pulled off the helmet.

Dropping the helmet, he brushed her long, tangled hair back from her face. His sharp gaze roamed her features.

“We made it,” he said. “That’s it. We’re here. You’re safe.”

“Understood,” she managed between gritted teeth. If he had let go of her, she would have fallen.

“Melly.” He cupped the back of her head as he clenched her to him. She tried to clutch at his leather jacket, but her fingers wouldn’t work properly.

“What can I do?” Gregoire asked in a quiet voice.

Vaguely she was aware of Julian plucking the gun out of her shaking grip and handing it over to the other man. “Increase security around the perimeter. Contact Xavier and Yolanthe. Tell them we’re here and to expect a briefing shortly. Get hot tea and food up to my rooms. I need a new phone.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m o-okay,” Melly told Julian.

“I know you are.” His gaze was concerned.

Her teeth started to chatter. “I’m j-just reacting.”

“Hell, I am too.” Scooping her into his arms, he jogged up the main stairs.

She managed to hook an arm around his neck. “I w-w-wasn’t expecting the t-trip to end like that.”

“Your back was so unprotected, I couldn’t stand it.” Rapidly he walked down the hall.

She hadn’t been in his San Francisco home in over twenty years. The décor had changed somewhat. It was still a sophisticated blend of creams and golds, with dark antiques, but the wallpaper and paints had been updated, giving the interior a combination of a traditional and a contemporary look.

The layout remained the same, and she knew where he was taking her – to his suite. For a brief moment she tried to decide if she cared, but she really didn’t. She couldn’t even scare up a ghost of pretense. Whenever she had visited, his suite had been a happy place, filled with safety and sensuality.

The future would take care of itself soon enough. Right now, she couldn’t imagine anywhere else she would rather be.

Carrying her into his room, he set her in a worn leather armchair, set in a reading nook in one corner. A faint, comforting scent of cigar smoke surrounded her. A gold-inlaid humidor sat on a table beside the chair, along with a crystal ashtray and an old-fashioned metal torch lighter. This was where he sat to smoke and think.

She loved the smell of his cigars. Hand rolled and made of high-end, organic tobacco, they seemed clean and aromatic compared to the stink of so many modern cigarettes.