“Suspicion of what?” asked Imogen, eyebrows narrowed until a little V of a crease appeared between them.

But Rinn was already in motion. “I’ll let you know when I find out.”

Back in the corner of the self-help section, AJ was listening to music and double-checking that all the books were shelved properly. Rinn knew that’s what he did when he couldn’t handle any more customer service for the hour. Nobody wanted to talk in the self-help section. They wanted to keep their head down, picking out a book. Or their head down, reading a book.

“Have you seen Daniella?” asked Rinn, tapping him on the shoulder at the same time to get his attention.

AJ pulled out his earbuds, tilted his head. Rinn repeated the question.

“Last I saw, I think she was in the office,” said AJ. “Why?”

Rinn waved him off with her hands. “I’ll explain. I’ve just got to find Daniella first.”

And so Rinn was off like a shot, trying to track down the threads of what was really going wrong at Wild Nights Bookstore and Emporium.

18

What Men or Gods Are These?

1:04 P.M.

Daniella

Daniella tried to take a step forward, away from Brock. She had enough experience to know when somebody couldn’t be trusted. She had enough experience to trust all the instincts that were lighting up in her body, in her muscles. Run, they said. Flee, they begged. She continued to walk toward the door, trying to get out of the room, trying somehow to get there quickly but also, to not draw attention to how much she was rushing away.

The art of doing a thing so smoothly that nobody noticed it was happening was something that Daniella had perfected over the years. She had a light tread. An easy way of leaving the room so that she just disappeared. Those were, however, tactics that worked best in a crowd. A party. A full house. A room full of siblings.

Not an empty room with just Daniella and a man who was watching her every move.

Brock grabbed her by the wrist—his wide palm sparking a jolt of fear through her body. “Don’t hurry off. I’ve got you all to myself now.”

“Stop.” Daniella had never heard her voice so quiet. She felt her words grow small and dull. She had meant to shout it. But it was only that mere whisper that had come out of her mouth. That small piece of protest that didn’t want to draw notice but had to speak up. “Let go of me.”

His grip grew firmer. Then he leaned in, so that his nose settled in behind her hair and her neck. He took a deep breath in. “Now, you don’t mean that, do you? I feel like we could be friends.”