To trust or not? Daelin gripped the spatula until her knuckles turned white, taking a deep breath. “Half my gut says to call the police. The other half worries for Charming. My sister wins. For now.”
As soon as she extended her hand, she regretted the decision. She’d prefer to maintain control over her fate. She’d prefer to keep the knowledge she had and find her sister. Yet, she knew she was out of her depth. Way out.
Dante’s grip heated as hot as the New York streets in August, and the acrid aroma of char compared to the smell of burned gunpowder, as if she stood in the subway again helpless. Never again.
She met his gaze, refusing to blink. This went beyond crazy, and she knew in her bones Dante was more dangerous than a mugger with a gun. What was he? What was her sister involved in? To get close to him was the quickest way to find out.
No way would she let him think he could push her around, though. “Don’t piss me off, or I’ll turn my sister against you.” Yeah, Daelin could make demands of her own.
Earl smiled and tipped his hat. “You’ll be right and fine. See you shortly.” His footsteps echoed like a death knell when he walked away.
She felt less safe, but wouldn’t admit it to Dante. She stared into his gaze as blue as Settler’s lakes. “Get on with it.” Right. Before she lost all nerve.
Dante’s mouth quirked to the side and he stood, leaning in against her, pressing her up against a refrigerator. “I’m waving the white flag.” His chuckle rumbled against her chest. He stripped the spatula from her grip. It clanged to the floor. “You’ll make a formidable opponent one day, and you’ll fight with me not against me.” He shifted, pinning her beneath him like a long-lost lover and raised his arm to her chin. “Do you like my bracelet? Take a good look at it.”
What? He was every bit as strange as that Trinidad woman, and Earl wasn’t so far off target either. How could any place be more kooky than New York City? Perhaps it was an elaborate prank by her sister: the man in her face with glowing eyes, the wanting her to unknow the most bizarre things. Who would want to know them?
Dante held her like a viper about to strike, and she knew this was no hoax. She had fallen into a rabbit hole. Her gaze fell on his wrist. A band of small crystal ovals graced his muscular arm, flat and opalesque. The colors danced, flaring then dimming.
“Keep watching,” Dante purred into her ear. “Tell me your name, your full given name.”
His bracelet shone blue, the glow burning brighter. Sleep weighted Daelin’s eyelids. “Darlin Dae Long. People call me Daelin.”
“Shhh.” His breath entered her mouth, soft, tasting of toasted bread. “You came into the grill, sat down with Betty and Earl. He left to run errands, you stayed and ordered a sandwich. You like Betty.”
What little she knew of Betty, Daelin did like. That truth seeped deep, taking root in her gut. She licked her lips, remembering Earl’s determination to run after Charming. Repeatedly Daelin thought, rescue Charming. Another sandwich would be great. Something hot with lots of cheese this time. No more chicken.
The gems on Dante’s wrist shifted to yellow. Little lines of green and purple swirled. “You didn’t hear Earl and I talking. What you heard was the TV in my restaurant. An episode of Missing in Memphis. It ended. You understand?”
Maybe a story would help. Right. Earl, the dashing knight, would protect her. Together they’d rescue Charming from the evil chicken and they’d all live happily ever after. The rest of her thoughts slipped, waves of nothingness washing over them. “Yes.”
“When you see the obsidian pillars open the doorway, you’ll remember everything.” The crystals blazed in red, growing more violet. He leaned in, exhaling into her mouth. “You’re going to be the best of soldiers.” The bracelet flashed purple.
Daelin blinked and found herself sitting at a table with the pink lady. “Betty,” she whispered.
The cook, a man who resembled Earl, set a huge sandwich on rosemary focaccia in front of her. “My special chicken club as you ordered, miss.”
Why had she ordered evil chicken? Where was Earl? Charming needed rescuing. Didn’t she? Daelin couldn’t remember, but knew she shouldn’t let the sandwich guy know she was aware things weren’t completely right.
She sighed at Betty. “That episode of Missing in Memphis was really engrossing. I don’t remember Earl leaving.”
hapter 