He grinned. “I did.”
“You broke into my apartment,” I pointed out. When he glanced over at me expectantly, I added, “While I was sleeping.”
He shrugged. “Yeah. So?”
“So that’s not the same thing as asking for my help! Listening to me talk in my sleep . . . well, that’s just creepy.”
He immediately stiffened, casting a dark look my way. “You got a small apartment, doll,” he said as if that was a completely valid defense. “Can’t help it if I overheard everything you had to say.”
I shifted a little, trying to fight the heat I felt rising in my face. “So . . . uh, what kinds of things did I say?”
His full lips curled up at the corners. “Why? You worried?”
Hell, yes, I was worried! I’d been dreaming about that stupid grin on his face nearly every night since we came over. And some of those dreams were a little . . . speculative. But I forced a laugh, trying to shrug off the question. “No, no, of course not,” I lied. “I was just curious.”
He chuckled. “I’m just messin’ with you, doll. I never heard you say much of anything that made sense. Mostly just nonsense about spiders.”
A shiver passed through me, knowing well which dreams he had overheard.
“So, that whole ‘along came a spider’ thing is true then?” he asked.
I nodded, my fingers gripping the leather seat as the fear came rushing in on me. I pushed back and took a deep breath and then another, shoving the images away. Dreaming about them was bad enough. I sure as hell didn’t need them intruding upon me while I was awake.
“You don’t really strike me as the kind of dame who’d be afraid of a little spider,” Nicky continued.
I gave him a wry look. “You ever get a peek at what’s going through a spider’s head?”
He sent a perplexed frown my way. “No. Can’t say that I have.”
I shuddered again. “Yeah, well, it isn’t pretty. If you had seen what I had, you would’ve been frightened, too.”
We sat in silence for a long moment before he said, “Sorry. I didn’t know about that.”
I glanced over at him, pegging him with a pointed look. “Well, I’m sure there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“I probably know more than you think.”
Part of me wanted to test that theory, but I wasn’t quite ready to break into a rousing rendition of “Getting to Know You”—especially where I was concerned. Before he could ask any potentially uncomfortable questions, I said, “Thank you, by the way. For saving me tonight. Twice.”
“What the hell was goin’ on at your apartment anyway?” he asked, turning off the main street and driving through a set of electrified gates that opened onto a long, winding driveway lined with trees.
I hugged myself, remembering that horrible face. “I don’t know.”
“Was it one of the vampires from earlier?” Nicky probed. “Was one of them coming after you?”
I shook my head. “No, it wasn’t one of those women. Nate took their souls.”
“Did you recognize the ghost at all?” he pressed, his voice taking on a harsh edge of urgency.
“No.”
“Maybe a dame you busted who wants to take you down?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? I mean—”
“I don’t know, okay?” I yelled. “I have no freaking clue who that woman was or why she was trying to scare the shit out of me! What part of that do you not understand, for chrissake?”
Nicky let out a long sigh as he came around the final bend in the drive and pulled up in front of a sprawling two-story mansion with a beige stone facade. I blinked in disbelief.
“This is your house,” I murmured. There was no way I could mistake the place, not after what I’d seen there.
He put the Escalade in park and sat staring at the front door for a long moment, a far-off expression on his face. I studied his angular profile, watching his attempt to control the emotions that played across his face. When he finally spoke, his voice was tense with barely restrained rage. “Yeah, well, as it turns out I got plenty of room.”
Instinctively, I reached out and touched his arm, feeling the tension in his muscles through his sweater. “Nicky . . .” My voice trailed off.
I wasn’t sure what I’d intended to say. There wasn’t anything I could say to take away the horrors of the night Juliet died. I didn’t have to imagine how it had happened. I’d seen it all in Nicky’s eyes when he’d thought he was dying: They’d fought earlier that night—Juliet hadn’t been happy to see Red at the party—and was even less thrilled to find out Nicky had brought his former flame to stay at their home. But he’d charmed his wife back into good spirits on the car ride home, and when they opened the door they were chatting about the party they’d just come from, complaining that the music had been too loud, the conversation too dull.
But then it all happened so fast. . . . Red screaming, Nicky shooting at the beast coming at him, Juliet getting knocked to the floor so hard by the beast that her skull shattered, splattering her gray matter all over the foyer floor. . . .
Nicky’s arm trembled ever so slightly beneath my fingertips, but when he turned to me, he forced a cockeyed grin and winked. “Come on, doll, let’s get you inside.”
I coaxed Sasha out of the backseat and into my arms before following Nicky into the house. As soon as I stepped into the foyer, my own images of walking in that night and seeing Nicky lying on the floor, bleeding out quicker than his almost indestructible Tale body could heal itself, made me shiver. Sasha yowled in protest and hopped from my arms to go explore her new surroundings.
“Sorry!” I called over my shoulder as I took off after her. “I’ll catch her before she gets into anything!”
I heard Nicky calling my name, telling me not to worry about it, but the last thing I needed was my cat peeing on Nicky’s carpet or clawing up his curtains. I was already imposing enough as it was.
Sasha shot up the stairs like a bat out of hell. I tried to follow, but my clunky snow boots were making pursuit difficult and I quickly fell behind. “Damn it, Sasha! Come back here!”
I finally made the landing and pulled off my boots, tossing them aside. I caught a glimpse of her shooting into one of the bedrooms and ran down the hall after her. When I reached the room, I flipped on the light and gasped, wondering if I’d just stepped back in time. The room was the size of my entire apartment and decked out with heavy wooden furniture and opulent crimson and gold brocade. In the center of the ceiling hung an intricately designed gilded chandelier that looked like it belonged in an Italian palace, not a mansion along Chicago’s North Shore.
I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and turned my head just in time to catch a glimpse of a woman hurrying into an adjacent room. Thinking Nicky must’ve already started replacing his staff since returning to town, I hurried after her. “Excuse me!” I called. “I’m looking for my cat. Have you seen—”
I was surprised to find myself standing in a massive closet nearly the size of the bedroom. Alone. I turned in a slow circle, looking for another door where the maid might’ve exited before I came in, but there was only the one way in or out. The closet was filled with
beautiful—and expensive—clothes, some with the tags from Saks and Burberry still attached. Blouses, jackets, skirts . . . and enough shoes to make Kim Kardashian green with envy. Oddly, though, everything in the closet belonged to a woman. There wasn’t even the slightest indication of a male presence. This had been Juliet’s room, I guessed—and Juliet’s room alone.
“Trish?”
I gave a little yelp, nearly jumping out of my skin. I whirled around, grasping my chest, where my heart felt like it was about to burst out, and let loose a vivid tirade of curse words that was positively inspired.