Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

BEAU

What the hell have I gotten myself into? Letting Killian leave is the smartest thing I could do. Not that I'll do it. "How do you know?" I ask instead.

"I'm not sure. I just know."

Killian's expression doesn't change. But there's an urgency to his energy that wasn't there before. Mom would tell me I'm being woo-woo, but I can't explain it. His posture isn't different, just tighter…coiled? Like he's preparing to strike.

"So, you're just going to bail on me?" At his narrowed eyes, I add, "Leave?"

"It is the safest option."

"Safest for who?"

His eyes go soft. "I don't want to put you in danger."

Then he grabs the ends of his shirt—my shirt—and starts to take it off again. Jesus Christ. I grab his arm to stop him. That same feeling, almost otherworldly, comes over me. His eyes are deep. A hundred years deep. I've heard the term old soul before but never felt it. Killian has a soul like he's lived forever. Which is sort of ironic when you think about it since his oldest memory is from three hours ago.

Or maybe he's been lying, and none of this is real.

"Who are you again? What's my name? Why are you here?"

He stops mid-strip and tilts his head. "I don't understand."

"They're simple questions."

"But it's not what you're really asking, and that is the part I don't understand."

He tries to lift the shirt again, and I let out a frustrated sound.

"Keep the damn shirt, Killian. Let's start with my name."

He huffs, and I'm not sure I've seen him frustrated before. It's cute. "Your name is Beau."

"Did you know it before you got here? When did we first meet?"

"I don't have time for this."

"Because you're hiding something?"

"I appreciate you helping me. Giving me clothes to wear. Opening the door to a naked man on your doorstep, but this—whatever you're doing—is wasting time. I need to go."

I step in front of him. He could easily move me, but I don't think he will. Sadly. But that's not my brain talking.

"Listen, my mother can be a pain in the ass. I'm not the only one who'll tell you that. Thirty percent of Jefferson Parish agrees with me. But nothing she said indicates you're in danger—except maybe from my mom. Tell me what's going on."

He unclenches his hands, stretching his fingers out, and I again feel something uncoiling. Is he dangerous? Shouldn't I be afraid? His breathing evens out. "I was seen at Lafitte's. On Bourbon Street."

"You were in the French Quarter?"

The disappointment sits heavily on my body, dragging me down. Which makes no sense. What did I think? That the man actually rose fully formed from my soggy lawn? Of course he has a past. He didn't suddenly come into being three hours ago. Then, my mind decides to activate. "Wait. Hold on. When?"

"Last night."

"No—although that is interesting. When did you find this out? And how?"

"Your mother was discussing it." At my continued stare, he shifts on his feet. "On the phone. While we were—talking."

His naked body was on display as I searched for distinguishing marks…the graceful lines of his back. The globes of his ass. The memory and the realization bring me up short. My mother's suggestion now makes sense. She wanted us gone when she called the station. But it still doesn't add up.

"There's no way you could have heard that. We were in the other room. She was outside and probably whispering."

"She was…but it was the other officer. The one who was here. The young woman?—"

"The rookie?"

"Yes. Her. She said it."

I'm staring, but I can't help it. My brain hurts. "That's impossible."

"I agree. Except, it isn't." He draws in a breath and releases it, his gaze darting to the door. Planning his escape? "I'm sorry. I can't explain it."

The frustration buzzing under my skin since I found him—no earlier, since leaving the university because of a prick of a professor and becoming the laughingstock of the research department—explodes, taking my control with it. "How fucking convenient."

"Convenient?"

He's suddenly bigger. His body doesn't change. It's in his stance. His volume. His eyes. I back up. I'm not proud of that, but I can self-protect like a boss.

"I need to know who I am. Why I came here. Figuring out how I can hear things you can't or tell that something dangerous is stalking me isn't important right now."

His chest is heaving, and I swallow my snarky words. Don't piss off the guy bigger than you who may or may not be an alien. Or a monster.

"Okay," I say, putting my hands out and hoping the gesture means "stay calm" wherever he comes from.

"Move, Beau."

"Hold on?—"

His hands grab my biceps and moves me out of the way. "Goodbye."

"Go on, then," I yell at his back. Words have always been my best weapon. "Roam the French Quarter searching for answers. Naked. Again," I murmur the last word. He stops without turning around, and I have my opening. "Do you know how to get to Lafitte's? Or the French Quarter? Do you own a car or a phone? Know how to call an Uber? Seriously, Killian. What's your plan? Wander around until you hear jazz?"

He doesn't move, and the tightness in my chest eases.

"Meanwhile, there's this guy willing to help you. Nice guy. Cute. He has clothes, a car, Google maps, and a mind built for figuring things out." And a body made for sinning, but I keep that to myself. "And I might add, you came to me for a reason."

He turns, crosses his arms, and raises one eyebrow. "What reason?"

I swallow my worry that he'll leave. "My guess? The cuteness factor."

There's a hint of a smile. Then he blinks, and it vanishes. "Why help me?"

"I don't honestly know."

And that's the truth. This is unlike me. Except…the frantic bird trying to get out. Unable to protect himself. No one should go through that. Needing someone to trust. Someone to fight for them.

"I don't want to put you in danger."

"If whatever is after you knows where you've been, I'm already in danger. And you're the only person"—or thing, my mind unhelpfully supplies—"who can keep me safe."

He stares at the wall behind me for all of five seconds before he responds. "Fine. Let's go."

"What?" I'm preparing my counterarguments to his rejection and almost miss his words. "Just like that?"

This time, a real smile breaks through. "I think you just enjoy arguing."

Wow. This guy has known me for three hours and already has me figured out.

But I don't care. Because I get to be a part of this. The first interesting thing in years, really. My ex and this thing with Jassan don't count. Killian isn't leaving me behind.

Now, the questions I've pushed to the back of my mind get through. I grasp the watch in my pocket, trying to remain calm. There's something dangerous out there.

What if we find it?