“We’re not going to kill you,” I heard myself say, and when Blythe looked up at me, eyebrows raised, I hastily added, “I mean, not yet. So long as you tell us what we need to know.”

The letter opener was near the door, so I picked up the nearest weapon I could lay hands on: a stapler.

I lifted it, going for “menacing.” I admit it lacked a certain elegance, but hey. It was worth a shot.

David placed his hand on my arm and pushed it back down.

“What?”

“Just . . . that’s embarrassing for all of us,” he replied.

Blythe gave another one of those laughs that made me shudder. “This is such a freaking mess,” she muttered before fixing me with her dark eyes. “You don’t even know what’s really going on here, do you? What’s your name, Paladin?”

“Harper Price,” I said, good manners automatically kicking in over sense.

“Do you want to give her your address, too?” David muttered, but Blythe’s gaze stayed on me.

“Well, listen to me, Harper Price. Me, the people I work for . . . we don’t want to hurt David. We want to help him.”

I opened my mouth, but David replied before I could say anything. “Help me?” His voice was tight with anger, and he reached up to tug at his hair, never a good sign. “You killed the man who was sworn to protect me.”

“That wasn’t me—” Blythe said, but David acted like she hadn’t spoken.

“You tried to run me over,” he said, eyes wide behind his glasses. I could see a flush creeping up his neck.

Scowling, Blythe struggled a little against the cords. “Okay, that was me, but technically I was after her—”

“And then, to top it off, you lure me out of town and try to stab Harper right in front of me.”

By now, David was nearly shouting, and again, I wondered why no one was running in. Surely we’d made enough noise to bring someone up here. I mean, this was a library, for goodness’ sake.

“If you’re trying to help me, why would you—or the people you work for—do any of that crap?” David rocked back on his heels, waiting for an answer, and I would’ve felt sorry for Blythe had it not been for the whole stabbing thing. Being on the other end of a David Stark Glare was a truly unpleasant thing.

Blythe sat up as straight as the cords would allow, leaning forward. “Because,” she said, clenching her teeth, “those people—that janitor, your so-called aunt—they were holding you back, David. You have a destiny, and I’m here to help you fulfill it.”

Chapter 22