She squeezed his hand and let a smile flicker over her lips. “Go, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

Isabelle struggled into a sitting position and pointed down the alley after the others. “Go! Go help them, Thomas. If you want to protect me, don’t let that son of a bitch get away.”

He leaned in, kissed her and murmured, “I love you.” Then he was gone.

I love you?

She sat for what seemed like a long time, stunned by his words, her hand covering her aching throat. He didn’t mean those words. He couldn’t. They’d probably just slipped out in the heat of the moment, maybe because he’d feared Boyle would kill her. She rubbed her fingers over her skin in an effort to ease the ache. Isabelle believed Thomas cared about her, could feel that he did. She knew he wanted to protect her…but love? Come on.

Although there had been a rush of pure, warm emotion emanating from him when he’d said it.

Isabelle had to admit that a part of her really liked the idea. A lot.

“What the hell are you smiling about? You just got your ass kicked by a demon.”

She looked up to see Adam standing near her, doubled over and breathing hard, his palms braced on his thighs, and a quizzical look on his face.

Had she been smiling? Isabelle dropped her hand from her throat, swallowed and winced. “I guess I’m getting used to it.” Her gaze locked on the mouth of the alley to see the others returning. “You didn’t get him, did you?”

Adam straightened and gave a short, brutal laugh. “Hell, no. He was like a ghost. There one minute then, poof, gone. I think he made us chase him just for fun. Bastard.”

“I think we injured him before he disappeared though,” said Thomas, limping toward her. This little fracas probably hadn’t helped his knee to heal any, though with the aid of Doc Oliver and some of the fire witches, it was rapidly improving.

He held out a hand and helped her to stand. “I got off one shot that hit him in the upper arm.” He paused and frowned. “I think.”

Jack wiped a hand across his brow and spoke around his labored breathing. “I saw it. You hit him. That’s when he poofed out of here. We chased him for a few blocks down these alleys. He dodged and weaved, hid behind stuff. None of us could get a clear shot, but Thomas managed to get him once.”

Isabelle pushed to her feet, examined the damage done to her clothes, and grimaced. “That’s something at least.” She pursed her lips. “It sounds like he was just taunting us, like he enjoyed the chase.”