Chapter 4 Struck
~ ZEV ~
They needed to move, now. But she'd leaned herself back into him in just the way she used to, and in a blink the last five years and every sick thing he'd done fell away. His body tightened and his breath caught.
The car had passed, turning onto the next block to circle again. They would have only seconds until it was back. He needed to move her out of here because the team would be searching soon.
Yet, he still didn't move.
He'd already dropped his hand from her mouth and loosened his grip, but now he let his hands fall to his sides. He waited, but she didn't move away. They stood there, as they always had, fitting together like they were made from the same mold.
"Zev?" she whispered his name this time, her soft voice a caress. He felt it like her fingers drawn up his spine and his breath shuddered out of him.
"We have to move, now. They'll be back in a minute." It was the first words he'd said to her in years and the effort of fighting all his emotion, along with the fear he felt for her, made his deep voice sharper than he'd intended.
She tensed, then slowly looked up at him, her hair wafting with her scent, brushing his against chest as she turned between his feet.
"It's really you?" she breathed.
"It's really me."
The urge to take her face in his hands, to take her mouth with his, to press their bodies together again was so strong, he shivered. But he forced himself to restraint. They had to move. But first he had to break the spell of having her eyes on him.
How much of his face could she see in this light? Not much he would have bet.
But his cursed sight… she was crystal clear to him, her blue eyes wide and disbelieving, her mouth just slightly open, that pillow of a bottom lip slack and soft, just waiting for him to—
It was a mark of how off-balance he was that he didn't see her hand coming.
When her palm cracked across his cheek, it rang in his head, but he took it. Didn't move. Just clenched his teeth against the sting and stared at her, pleading with her to understand, though he knew she couldn't possibly.
An entire lifetime had passed in the last five years. She couldn't even begin to—
She pulled her hand back to swing at him again, but he caught her wrist effortlessly this time and it woke him up.
They were wasting time.
Her eyes widened further—in anger or fear, he wasn't sure. Probably both.
"You can slap me later. We have to move," he growled, then without letting go of her wrist, tugged her towards the stairs.
"What? What are you—"
He whirled and clapped his free hand over her mouth again.
Her eyes went so wide he could see the whites all the way around. "Hate me if you want to," he whispered. "But if the men in that car find us, you're dead and I'm locked up. So please… please, Sasha, walk. Follow me, and don't question. I'll get us somewhere safe then… then you can slap me all you want."
He didn't wait for an answer, just started up the stairs in quick efficient steps, pulling her behind him.
She couldn't move as quickly or as quietly as him, he had to remember that. He had to get them out of here in a way that she could handle.
But just as they reached the street, he caught the sound of the car coming around again—already in the side street where he'd first hid. They would there in seconds, and he still had her out in the open.
Without thought, he yanked Sasha up the street towards where the car would emerge, two more doors, whispering an apology when she yelped, but still dragging her, then down again into the next basement entry.
Sliding an arm around her waist, he practically threw her into the tight little doorway, overshadowed by stairs leading to the front door of the apartment above, then put himself between her and the street, his arms wide so she couldn't get past him, and he turned to face the street praying they'd do one more circuit.
Her friend's apartment was three doors in on the other side of the street. They needed at least thirty seconds to get there.
"Do you have the door code to Rob's place?" he whispered.
Her breath stopped. "How do you know about—"
"Sasha! Just tell me, quickly! Can you get in without ringing the bell?"
She blinked. "Yes. But there's—"
"Doesn't matter," he rasped. "As soon as they turn off the block, we're running, you understand me? As fast as your legs can carry you. Straight to his house and you get inside, even if I'm not there."
"What?! Where are you going?"
"I'm going with you," he hissed, "But if something happens, you get into the house and you don't leave no matter who comes to the door—you understand? I have to—"
"No, Zev, I don't understand!" she whisper-screamed. "Where did you come from? How did you know I was here? How do you know about Rob?"
"I'll explain everything later," he said as the lights from the car passed them again, much more slowly this time. He followed their progress with his eyes, urging them to keep going, to be talking or distracted, or… something. And for once, it looked like God was listening, because the car flashed a turn signal, then slowly eased on to the next street again.
"But—"
He didn't give her the chance to argue, just tore out of the doorway—her hand in his again—and up the stairs to the street side. She tripped on the way up, but he swung her effortlessly back to her feet and they were running, him urging her forward, slowing his pace to match hers, one hand at her back, twisting to look behind them—and cursing, when he saw the car nose up from the street they'd just turned into. They'd turned around and were coming back!
Her footsteps slapped on the cement of the road, then onto the opposite sidewalk and he was right on her heels.
The car engine growled in the distance and he swore, practically throwing her up the stairs to Rob's apartment door, then standing over her, watching the car speed towards them, nearly silent, like a black panther on prey.
*****
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