Free Shadows (Black Raven Book 1) by Stella Barcelona Page A

let the canary fly, however. He leaned firmly against the door, so that she couldn’t open it, even though she tried to pull it open against his weight. He had one more thing to ask her, and he didn’t want to do it downstairs, with other ears around.
    She looked at him and said, “You’re a giant jerk. Let me out of here.”
    He folded his arms. “What are you so afraid of?”
    She glared at him, her cheeks flushed, her arms at her sides, and her hands balled into tight fists. “Let. Me. Out. Of. Here.”
    So. No answer. At least not yet.
    He pressed a button on his watchband and called Pete. “Pete. Come into the coffee shop. Get a cup of coffee. To go. We’re moving on. Marshals will arrive later today to talk to them.”
    His words were only a charade. Sebastian’s company was founded on protection. As a protector, he was also an observer. An observer of people, surroundings, of every minute happening that could present risk. His early survival had depended on understanding his abusive father’s difficult-to-read moods, and he had a rare aptitude for being in tune to undercurrents. In other circumstances, watching Skye would have been pure pleasure, with those luminous, flagstone-colored eyes, inky-dark long hair, curves that were perfectly accented by her wrap sweater, and snug, hip-hugging jeans, with the wide belt that called attention to the sexy space where her hips tapered up, to her tiny waist. This was work, though, not pleasure, and this was one hell of a fucked-up job. It didn’t matter how gorgeous she was. Something was just plain goddamn wrong.
    Skye wasn’t glancing away from him, a look that he’d have taken to indicate deception, that she knew something about her father that she wasn’t telling him. No. She wasn’t lying when she said she didn’t know where her father was. In Skye’s gray-green eyes, he saw wide-eyed fear that she was working hard to conceal. Her cheeks were flushed. Her forehead glowed with dewy perspiration. She was afraid. Terrified, actually.
    As he watched her draw a deep breath, he could smell the musky, sweet aroma of fear, and it seemed like more than just concern for her father’s safety. Finally. He had a scent on something interesting, and it was her fear. Instinct told him to follow that trail. She had a blown cover, sizable assets at her disposal, and a tendency to be impulsive. If given the opportunity, she’d run and regroup. He was going to give her that opportunity.
    Skye glanced into his eyes, folded her arms, and squared her shoulders. She was trying damn hard to look composed. Sebastian slowly stepped away from the door before opening it for her. “Go ahead.”
    She passed, making sure that she didn’t touch him. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath.
    You have no idea, lady.

Chapter Four
     

7:55 a.m., Monday
     
    Run.
    Skye frowned as she jogged down the stairs. Stopping by the coffee shop before getting on the road had been a mistake. A bad mistake. Was Connelly telling the truth about her father? There was no reason for him to lie. What purpose would that serve? And if it wasn’t a lie, where was her father? A prison break was the last thing she’d have expected from him, a man already so paranoid that he didn’t trust a living soul other than his daughters. And sometimes, Skye wasn’t even sure about that. Because if her father had somehow pulled off a prison break, the first person he would’ve contacted was her.
    Which he’d done.
    C-A-T-A-C-L-Y-S-M-N-O-W-R-U-N.
    Which she was trying like hell to do. All she had to do was get away from Connelly before the marshals showed up. Should be simple, but this was her life, and nothing was ever simple. She had to get her sister to hurry, without freaking her out, and walk away from their new lives with nothing but the clothes on their backs, a puppy, and a freaking cake that absolutely, positively had to be delivered, if Skye had any hope in hell of getting her sister out of town without