“You cheated,” she accused.
His smile widened. She didn’t sound that disappointed, and she knew it.
He played along, raising his shoulders, a display of innocence. “A bet’s a bet.”
“How did you do it?”
“Maybe my telepathy isn’t rusty after all.”
Rixon walked up, clapping him on the back. “Let’s hit the road, Jack.”
“Where’s Vee?” the redhead wanted to know.
On cue, the blonde emerged from the restroom, slumped against the doorjamb, pantomimed her own erratically beating heart, and mouthed ooh-la-la.
“What did you do to her?” the redhead asked Rixon.
“Put a smile on her face. There’s more where that came from,” Rixon added, and Patch shoved him toward the doors.
“Take it easy,” Patch told the redhead reluctantly, not ready to give up talking to her, but not wanting to impress any more of her on Rixon’s memory. For the time being, he wanted to keep who she really was to himself.
The redhead blinked. “So I guess I’ll see you around,” she said, wearing a what just happened here? expression. Given the circumstances, he should ask himself the same thing.
“Absolutely,” Patch answered. Sooner than she thought. Later tonight he planned on making house calls. First to the blonde, and then to the redhead.
If tonight had happened seven or eight months down the road, the timing would have been perfect. As it was, he had to erase their memories. He felt a jolt of regret at needing to wipe the redhead’s memory. He wanted her to remember tonight. He wanted her to remember him.
He imagined sacrificing her — a thought he’d turned over in his head a hundred times before — but the image stumbled. For the first time he looked beyond himself — seeing her. Not only did he plan to kill her, but he had it in his mind to betray her first. What would she think of him if she knew? It occurred to him to drag her outside now and get it over with. The image flared in his mind, impulsive and tempting, but he forced it aside. If he could do it now, he could do it tomorrow.
But his hesitation bothered him. Something told him killing her wasn’t going to be easy. He hadn’t helped his cause by flirting with her and, worse, enjoying it. More than he was ready to admit.
In an effort to refocus his thoughts, he shut his eyes briefly and pictured the end goal. Once he sacrificed her, he’d have a human body. It wasn’t complicated. Anything that stood in his way, including his own inner turmoil, was irrelevant.
Without thinking he turned, stealing a private look at her. He’d only meant to see her face one last time, but to his surprise, she was watching him, too, with a question in those exquisite gray eyes that would haunt him.