Page 57 of The Devil’s Feather

Rafael gathered a blue lock in his hands. “It looks great. I—” He stilled, eyes sliding past me. I turned my head, and he forcibly turned me back. “We are being watched,” he whispered. “Follow my lead.”

“What the fuck?” I whispered back.

He propelled me down the street by my elbow.

“Are you Rafael Nazim?” The voice behind us pronounced it ‘RAFFY-el NAY-zeem’.

My ears throbbed in protest. We turned. A stocky, balding guy wearing a military surplus vest stood there with his feet planted on the sidewalk. More men lurked at the corner. Fear stabbed down my spine.

“No,” Rafael said, and turned back around.

He steered me along. Heart thumping in my ears, I nearly skipped trying to keep up with his much longer stride.

“Mr. Nazim,” the man called. “We just wanna chat.”

Footsteps behind us.

Rafael ignored them, keeping his voice low. “If they try to put their hands on me, you run. Do not intervene; do not stay and record. Run.”

Terrified, I clung to his arm. How could I possibly leave him behind if those assholes attacked him?

The footsteps behind us drew closer. Rafael ducked into a consignment store, dragging me with him. An employee walked up to greet us and he strode right past her. Other employees barked out in surprise as he pushed through the back door.

“Mr. Nazim, come on. We just wanna talk,” a male voice chased us outside.

We doubled back through the parking lot and around to the front of the salon again. Rafael steered me across the street in the opposite direction of the parking garage. Finally, we made it to the Escalade. I locked the doors as soon as he closed them, hands shaking.

Rafael peeled out of the parking space. I yelped and grabbed the oh-shit handle.

“Sorry. This fucking enrages me. I am sure that was a thank you gift from Chaddington Quarter-Zip the Third.” He spun the wheel, and we whipped through the surface streets toward the freeway. “Another downside of being so recognizable.”

I clung to the handle for dear life. “Ugh, that makes total sense. But did you really think I’d leave you behind if they attacked you?”

He glanced at me. “Your safety is all that matters. I can handle myself, and I will not have you putting a target on your head. Do you understand?”

Paternalistic, but I understood. Rafael clearly was not afraid of a street fight, and he had resources I didn’t. I swallowed past the growing lump in my throat.

My hands shook, and tears welled. There was that meltdown I thought I’d avoided earlier.

“Elaine, are you ok?”

I shook my head, unable to speak over the sudden avalanche of thoughts. Headlights popping on in the deepening dusk stabbed my eyes, so I squeezed them shut. My stomach heaved at the sharp turns.

Rafael spoke to me, but I couldn’t parse the words over the rushing in my ears. I curled into a ball as much as the seatbelt allowed, clawing at my arms to make the buzzing under my skin stop. The drive surely didn’t take as long as it felt, but I’d swear the entire night had passed by the time we finally pulled into the garage.

“Come, my love, leave your arms alone.” Rafael gently pried me out of the Escalade, unhooking my fingernails from my flesh.

Cradled against his chest, he carried me to the elevator, humming all the way into the bedroom. There, he pulled off his shirt and mine, and held me tight on the bed.

Humming became a song in a familiar refrain—Misty Mountains. In a bass powerful enough to fill the room and the very marrow of bones, Rafael sang the deepest notes, proving his oktavist range. His voice anchored my soul. Little by little, I relaxed against him until I was fully limp.

He brushed my hair from my face. “Better?”

I nodded, and he kissed my forehead.

“Today was a lot. I am sorry.”

“Not your fault,” I forced out. “Thanks for protecting me.”