Tempted by His Wicked Kiss. Zoey Williams
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to be in this together. They were practically brothers, in life and in...
“Hey!” Jack shouted as he caught a glimpse of Cal’s unmistakable combination of faded green army jacket and fiery red hair. “Wait up, man!”
If Cal heard him, he didn’t show any indication. Jack sped up his pace, practically jogging until he could walk in step with Calvin. Tonight he and Cal were on the prowl, just as they had been for the last year. Cal—his friend, his partner in crime—had once been so cool and collected. He’d walk into a room like he owned the place. And he’d had lots of practice; that’s what a life of crime had done to him.
Jack looked at his only friend in the world. Cal had taught him everything he knew. How to slip a hand into an unsuspecting bastard’s pocket and remove his wallet and phone. How to throw a right hook that did the most damage. Every scam, swindle, and crime in the book. It was every man for himself, except when it came to Jack and Cal. Or at least that’s what Jack had thought. With Cal’s disappearing acts growing more frequent, he was beginning to wonder.
His friend had changed. Cal’s swagger had been replaced with a fast, nervous step. His usual smirk had become a flat line. His heavily lidded eyes, usually giving an I-don’t-give-a-fuck look to anyone—especially law enforcement—were now wide, his pupils shrinking into pinpoints, as if he were always looking over his shoulder.
But Jack knew, as much as he would never admit it, that Calvin had started these weird habits because he was scared. He was more than scared; he was terrified. Because if they didn’t find what they were looking for within the next eight hours, they were fucked. Eternally fucked.
“Hey, slow down,” Jack called after his friend. “You keep running around like this and you’re going to rush right past what we’re looking for.”
Cal spun on his heel and glared. “Oh yeah, smart ass? I don’t see you finding anything. We have less than a day. I’ll do this however I want. Our slow pace sure hasn’t helped this last year.”
He had a point.
They had been given a year to find a target and nothing had turned up. As Jack jogged to keep up with Cal dashing up Broadway, he detected some movement above him. He squinted. Like a glittering jewel he had wrenched off a lady’s hand more times than he could count was the silvery New Year’s Eve ball glinting in the late afternoon sun, reflecting the pink of the sunset. In a little less than eight hours, that ball would drop, signifying the start of a new year. Within that stretch of time, if Cal and Jack didn’t find what they were looking for, they were worse than dead.
And in that moment, when Jack allowed himself to briefly think of the fate that awaited them, he saw it. A flash of violet in his peripheral vision.
Jack stopped dead in his tracks.
No longer hearing the footfalls of his friend beside him, Cal slowed down before turning around in a huff. “What the fuck, man? I told you that you need to keep up with me. I’m tired of this—”
From where he stood, Cal trailed off as he tried to get a glimpse of where Jack was looking. Frozen in place, his eyes desperately searched the crowd. Cal ran over, stopping so short he almost ran into his friend. When Jack still didn’t say anything, Cal nudged him with his elbow.
“Oh shit, you see one, don’t you?” he asked. “Which way did it go?”
All of a sudden, Jack felt like he was underwater. The movements of the crowd around him slowed to a glacial pace. His vision blurred, his ears felt like they were stuffed with cotton. Jack noticed he was holding his breath as he desperately tried to determine which way the flash had gone.
He furrowed his brow, squinting slightly. The shimmering purple glow appeared again, but this time it was farther in the distance. He was losing ground. It was moving away from him and he wasn’t sure in which direction. But then, by some incredible twist of fate, another lavender light flashed as clear as day a block ahead of them, traveling west.
“Mine!” Cal shouted. “I got that one, Jack!” he called as he bolted after it, leaving Jack in a swirl of car exhaust. He didn’t even bother to ask if Jack had his secured.
Turning back around, Jack scanned the crowd around him. He had just seen it. He’d only taken his eyes off his target for a second and it was gone. He turned to follow Cal, but he couldn’t see him anymore either.
“Shit,” he muttered to himself. “Shit, shit, shit.”
There was nothing to do but run. The last he had seen it, the purple flash far in front of him was heading south. His only chance was to blindly follow it and pray that it was still within reach. He took off through the crowds, looking frantically around him, but the light had disappeared. Then he realized that there was a subway station not far from where he was standing. The purple glow may have traveled underground.
He found the green orb marking the subway’s entrance and ran down the dingy silver stairs, forgotten pieces of gum, now a blackish pink, embedded in its ridges. Large clumps of dirt and filth covered the tile of the underground station he ran soundlessly over. It was rush hour and New York’s unique symphony—the synthesized tone of train doors opening and closing, the clicking of the turnstiles, the thump of a street performer’s boom box—filled the station.
There was a sea of travelers with purple knitted caps and scarves, violet shopping bags, plush lilac wool coats, but nothing glowed. Jack cursed. He would have to arbitrarily pick a subway line and go down to the tracks.
He ran to the closest entrance and descended another flight of stairs, almost tripping over one of its ancient, uneven steps. The platform was crowded, commuters packed shoulder to shoulder. He elbowed his way to the front of the line, walking over the ridges of the yellow metal safety strip at the edge of the platform. A few people around him grimaced, but it was the only way he’d get a decent view of the place and the crowd on the opposite platform. He scanned the mass behind him before turning his gaze across the platform. At first he didn’t believe his eyes.
There it was. Across the tracks, the purple glow undeniably radiating from this woman’s being like an aura. With her back turned to him, Jackson could see how the hue clung to her ratty shawl, her waist-length curly hair, scuffed leather boots, and long, gauzy skirt skimming the dirty floor of the platform. She was carrying a folded-up card table under one arm, the top of it fitting into the crook of her armpit, and held a small padded stool with black metal legs in the other. Probably a homeless person, he figured, which made Jackson breathe out a sigh of relief. It made his job a little easier. No one would miss her. This woman was it, exactly what he’d been searching for day and night for nearly three hundred and sixty-four days. She was his ticket out of the dangerous situation he and Cal were in. If he could just take what he needed from her, he’d be spared the fate that awaited him in less than a day. He stood there, stunned, as the realization washed over him. This was it. His torment would finally be over.
But he still needed to catch her first. And since she was on the platform across from him, she was on track to board a train going the opposite direction than the one he was standing on. He looked around quickly, not wanting to lose sight of her again, wondering what to do next. There was no other choice than to hop off the platform, cross the tracks, and follow her.
He bent at the waist and grabbed the edge of the platform before easing his body over it with a quick jump. Various pieces of litter—shattered glass bottles, empty Styrofoam containers, a knotted plastic bag—were scattered on the grimy floor. A rat the color of dishwater skittered by. No one around him noticed that Jack was standing in the middle of the tracks.
But when his eyes returned to the woman with the purple aura, he was almost sure he could scream out and someone would hear him. Because he could practically feel his stomach drop when he saw the woman slowly turn around. An older man with a crinkled map in his hand had tapped her on the shoulder and she’d spun around, gesturing like she was giving directions. She was deep in conversation with him. The relief he’d originally felt upon seeing his glowing target quickly vanished as he now saw her face. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, hoping that what stood in front of him