The Golden Bell Read Online Free Page B

eyes
off of her.
    Giving thanks to his sketchy sense of
chivalry, she slid past, holding her breath until she made the
stairs.
    He stalked after her.
    Eyes widening, she hurried along, juggling
her lock picks in her haste to get her door unlocked. Difficult
become impossible when he paused behind her and stared at her
hands.
    Giving her a look, he slipped the tools from
her damp fingers and did the honors. Blinking in surprise, she slid
into the room, unsurprised when he kept her picks.
    He drew her door key from his pocket and
tossed it on the carpeted floor. “You’ll feel better having that,
though there’s little point, is there?” He looked at the bed and
his brows rose. Moving closer, he frowned at the piles of folded
clothes and the foreign currency resting on top. He glanced at
her.
    “I paid you back,” she said defensively. It
wasn’t much money, but it was all she had.
    “Did you put a price on your rescue, too? I
could present you with an itemized bill, if you like.” Arms folded,
he looked at her with an unreadable expression. The posture did
sinful things to all that naked muscle.
    Tamping down on her hormones and the sudden
urge to weep, she looked aside. “I can’t pay you back for that. I
can only say thank you.” A pitiful, inadequate phrase, but all she
had.
    “That was all I wanted for the clothes, too.
If you really want to return the favor, then stay here and get some
rest. I’m not in the mood to track you through the ice fog.” His
tone had softened. Firmly, he reached out and lifted her chin. “If
you leave, I will find you…and you won’t like my mood when I do.”
With that final warning, he released her and strode out of her
room.
    It was a minute before she could breathe
normally. Just standing next to him sucked all the air out of her
lungs. Standing next to him while he was half-naked…
    Groaning, she moved the clothes onto the
dresser and threw herself down on the bed. How did he manage to
make her feel like an erring child and a hormone-plagued teen at
the same time? It confused her, added to the stress in an already
stressful moment. Now he thought she was ungrateful. That hurt.
Maybe she hadn’t stopped mentally running long enough to really
consider what he’d done for her, but she didn’t have time. He was
going to make her speak to the council, and she had to avoid
that.
    Her father’s murderer was on the council. She
couldn’t prove it, had no idea who it was, but the last time she’d
spoken to her father he’d told her he was going to share one of her
inventions with his friend on the council. The next thing she’d
known, their home was being raided and her father was dead, his
workshop ransacked. She’d barely gotten away with her life that
time and she wasn’t dumb enough to tempt fate twice.
    How was she going to escape Fallon? Clearly
sneaking away would be bloody difficult. Killing him wasn’t an
acceptable option, even if she could manage it; a doubtful prospect
at best. Incapacitating him might work, but he was wily enough to
make that tough. Getting the drugs to make him sleep, let alone
getting him to take them, would tax even her sneaky mind, and
coshing him on the head… She shuddered, imaging his expression if
he weren’t knocked out, or worse, his retribution if she tried to
bash him and failed. Haunt men made Navy Seals look like babes in
nappies, and her pitiful street fighting wouldn’t save her. If he
wanted to, Fallon could power through her moves like a full
throttle locomotive, smashing her in the process. You didn’t take
on a Haunt male unless you were suicidal, and she hadn’t reached
that point yet.
    She could seduce him. As soon as the notion
presented itself, she rejected it. Stupid idea. Bedding him
wouldn’t relax his guard, especially when she’d flinched from him
like a caged sparrow at dinner. Not only would he not believe it,
she just couldn’t do it.
    Men scared her. It wasn’t because she’d
suffered any hideous