Read Online Wraith (Debt Collector 10) by Susan Kaye Quinn - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan Kaye Quinn
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keen sense of fashion?”
“An appreciation for theatre.” I’m dead serious, but he just chuckles.
Then he arches an eyebrow and nods. “You know, you just might fit in with me and my friends.”
“I doubt that very much.” This is it—the pitch. Whatever it is he wants from me. The reason I’m not already dead.
He cocks his head to the side. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
I relax my frozen-with-fear pose and try to look like I’m just having a casual negotiation. All the while, I’m desperate to figure out his angle on this. “Let me guess. You and your pals are rogue debt collectors who prey upon the rich and famous. Or you’re working for one of the mobs doling out hits in exchange for the cash or the high. Possibly both.”
“Nothing quite so banal as all that.” The seriousness on his face sends a chill through me, but his words… I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but I can’t afford to be curious right now. I need to be gone.
“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not in the market,” I say as evenly as I can. I edge a little away along the wall.
He watches me, but instead of moving to stop my slow retreat, he peers at my face and frowns. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
My heart stops cold in my chest. “No.” But I’ve said it too fast.
He nods a little, to himself. “No, I think I do. I never forget a pretty—” He cuts himself off with a look of recognition.
Oh shit.
“Holy…” he says, his eyes going wide. “You’re the Sterling kid!”
My heart seizes so badly, I think I’m having an actual heart attack. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a kid...” My voice trails off. I think I’m going to be sick.
He’s shaking his head, amazed, but a grin is creeping up on his face. “No, no, you’re not a kid at all… Alexandra. ”
Pain stabs through my chest. Definitely a heart attack. “I’m not—”
But he’s not listening to me. “And you’re a debt collector, too. Damn.” He takes a step back, tossing his hands in disbelief.
I run.
I’m headed for the back room I came through, hoping I left the door unlocked. Panic fuels my legs, and I make it down the hall and into the living room before he catches me. This time I’m a true demon. Hands, legs, clawed fingers, everything comes out. I’m kicking and fighting my way out of his hold. I break free, but he grabs me again, this time around the waist, before I get even a few more steps toward the door. I grab the bare flesh of his hand with both of mine and pull hard. We both go down on Hughes’s lush carpet, the push-pull of life energy dominating the battle now. A strange thought in the back of my head notices there’s no pain with this transfer, no white-hot searing through the contact point as energy surges back and forth between us. It’s effortless… yet like warring with gravity.
I’m actually holding my own now, probably because I’m in a full-fledged fight for my life. This collector knows who I am. He can’t live. He can’t tell anyone. If he does… everything, everything is ruined. I might as well die trying to stop him, because my life is over if I don’t.
He growls through the fight, rolling me over and pinning me, but that’s the least of it: I still have a grip on his hand and fingers clawing at his throat, making enough contact to make him wince and try to shake me off.
“Damn it, Alexandra, stop!” he grinds out, but there’s no way in hell I’m doing that.
I buck and thrash against his weight holding me down. I am the wild animal now because if I’m caught, I’m dead.
“I said, stop!” There’s anger in his voice but also… patience. It chills my heart. Like he knows he’s going to win this, and he’d rather I just gave up now.
I fight hard, growling out my own frustration.
He gets ahold of my wrists again, and I lose all skin contact.
Bitter, angry tears well up. I sag against the carpet underneath me, defeated.
“An appreciation for theatre.” I’m dead serious, but he just chuckles.
Then he arches an eyebrow and nods. “You know, you just might fit in with me and my friends.”
“I doubt that very much.” This is it—the pitch. Whatever it is he wants from me. The reason I’m not already dead.
He cocks his head to the side. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
I relax my frozen-with-fear pose and try to look like I’m just having a casual negotiation. All the while, I’m desperate to figure out his angle on this. “Let me guess. You and your pals are rogue debt collectors who prey upon the rich and famous. Or you’re working for one of the mobs doling out hits in exchange for the cash or the high. Possibly both.”
“Nothing quite so banal as all that.” The seriousness on his face sends a chill through me, but his words… I’m not sure what he’s talking about, but I can’t afford to be curious right now. I need to be gone.
“Whatever you’re selling, I’m not in the market,” I say as evenly as I can. I edge a little away along the wall.
He watches me, but instead of moving to stop my slow retreat, he peers at my face and frowns. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
My heart stops cold in my chest. “No.” But I’ve said it too fast.
He nods a little, to himself. “No, I think I do. I never forget a pretty—” He cuts himself off with a look of recognition.
Oh shit.
“Holy…” he says, his eyes going wide. “You’re the Sterling kid!”
My heart seizes so badly, I think I’m having an actual heart attack. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not a kid...” My voice trails off. I think I’m going to be sick.
He’s shaking his head, amazed, but a grin is creeping up on his face. “No, no, you’re not a kid at all… Alexandra. ”
Pain stabs through my chest. Definitely a heart attack. “I’m not—”
But he’s not listening to me. “And you’re a debt collector, too. Damn.” He takes a step back, tossing his hands in disbelief.
I run.
I’m headed for the back room I came through, hoping I left the door unlocked. Panic fuels my legs, and I make it down the hall and into the living room before he catches me. This time I’m a true demon. Hands, legs, clawed fingers, everything comes out. I’m kicking and fighting my way out of his hold. I break free, but he grabs me again, this time around the waist, before I get even a few more steps toward the door. I grab the bare flesh of his hand with both of mine and pull hard. We both go down on Hughes’s lush carpet, the push-pull of life energy dominating the battle now. A strange thought in the back of my head notices there’s no pain with this transfer, no white-hot searing through the contact point as energy surges back and forth between us. It’s effortless… yet like warring with gravity.
I’m actually holding my own now, probably because I’m in a full-fledged fight for my life. This collector knows who I am. He can’t live. He can’t tell anyone. If he does… everything, everything is ruined. I might as well die trying to stop him, because my life is over if I don’t.
He growls through the fight, rolling me over and pinning me, but that’s the least of it: I still have a grip on his hand and fingers clawing at his throat, making enough contact to make him wince and try to shake me off.
“Damn it, Alexandra, stop!” he grinds out, but there’s no way in hell I’m doing that.
I buck and thrash against his weight holding me down. I am the wild animal now because if I’m caught, I’m dead.
“I said, stop!” There’s anger in his voice but also… patience. It chills my heart. Like he knows he’s going to win this, and he’d rather I just gave up now.
I fight hard, growling out my own frustration.
He gets ahold of my wrists again, and I lose all skin contact.
Bitter, angry tears well up. I sag against the carpet underneath me, defeated.
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