Stone Cold Lover by Christine Warren Read Free Book Online Page B

lead me back to my apartment? Because I would kill for a shower right about now.”

 
    Chapter Four
    The question had been rhetorical, but Fil had meant the bit about the shower. Her skin felt dirty and gritty, coated with a layer of gray silt made up of the debris from the bomb, Spar’s pedestal, and probably a good bit of the abbey’s four-hundred-year-old stone walls. She wanted hot water and the largest shower pouf known to man or God, and she wanted them stat.
    Unfortunately, she may have expressed her urgency a little too strongly to her winged companion, because she found herself whisked back up into the sky before she could do more than squeak in protest. This led to the discovery—on her part, at least—that arguing with a stubborn male while suspended several hundred feet in the air by no more than said male’s goodwill affected her blood pressure in a way her physician would never have approved of.
    By the time she managed to convince him to set her back down on solid ground, Spar had returned them to within a half-mile of the scene of the crime. When she managed to open her eyes and pry her fingers from around his neck, she was able to read the street sign on the nearby corner and determine that the spot where she’d parked her bike for her illegal excursion onto the abbey grounds—and didn’t that feel like about eight or nine lifetimes ago—was less than two blocks away. Thankfully, they were just beyond the area already cordoned off by the authorities. Yay for preplanning and paranoia.
    As soon as her legs stopped trembling, Fil straightened her spine and turned on her heels. She began marching toward her parking spot without sparing her companion so much as a word of parting. Frankly, she couldn’t be sure that if she opened her mouth, she wouldn’t start screaming again. Flying without an airplane around her was for the birds.
    Or the gargoyles.
    She could feel Spar’s presence lurking behind her as she cut through a narrow alley to save herself some time. It occurred to her that he might not exactly blend in this neighborhood, but at just before four in the morning, the chances of anyone being out on the street and getting past the police to see him were slim. She decided dealing with freaked-out bystanders was his problem. As was the potential for getting his enormous ass wedged between the centuries-old buildings that pressed close on either side.
    A vindictive thought, perhaps, but one Fil found quite satisfying in the moment.
    Spotting her bike parked just where she’d left it, Fil fumbled in her pockets for her keys, grateful they’d been buttoned safe inside. The last thing she needed right now was to discover that her keys had tumbled out and landed at the bottom of the St. Lawrence at some point during her little adventure. Not that it would have surprised her. Not after tonight.
    “Come on,” she said, slinging her leg over the motorcycle and settling into the worn leather seat. “I’m not quite sure you’re actually going to fit on here with me, but I’ve given up hope that I get to go home alone after all this. Right?”
    “You are correct. I believe Kees spoke the truth when he said that there is too great a chance the Order will seek you out after the events of this evening. You require protection, and as a Guardian it is my duty to provide it.”
    “Oh, goody.” Fil sighed. “Okay, then. Climb on, if you can manage it.”
    When Spar didn’t move, she glanced over to see him frowning down at her with his brawny arms crossed over his massive chest. Now that she thought about it, she could have skipped inviting him to ride with her. She doubted he could fit so much as one foot on the pillion of her restored Triumph Tiger.
    “Ooookay, so that’s not gonna work, then.” She shrugged. “If you can’t squeeze onto the back there, you’ll have to fly, I guess. Just keep an eye on me, and I’ll lead you back to my place.”
    Spar shook his head and refused to budge.