“Ballsy.So fucking ballsy when Iknow so very much about you.”
My heart dropped to my stomach. Another thinly veiledthreat. How long was I going to have to put up with this? “I thought youweren’t here to play games. I thought this was just some kind of catastrophiccoincidence.”
He shrugged. “This isn’t a game, Six. This is yourfucking life. Don’t be stupid with it. Wake-up call at seven. Every morning.”
Remembering his note from the other night, I held hisglare. “And if I run?”
“Well, that would be pretty goddamn stupid, yeah?” Hishand landed on the door to outside. “But, I don’t know, I guess try it if you want.I’m up for seeing what happens if you are.”
His casual attitude and ambiguous threat sent a chillskittering over me. I felt turned inside out by this man. He wasn’t supposed tohave found me, by coincidence or not. In one breath, he gutted me with memoriesof my past and the way I used to feel for him and how badly I’d hurt him. Andin another I was terrified for my life, my daughter’s life, for this life we’dcarved out of nothing and made into something worth protecting. Instead ofgiving into the fear that curled around me like a slowly tightening snake, Idefaulted to the professional in me. “We’ll let you know when the repairmanwill be out to look at your hot tub.”
Sayer’s expression finally broke, his lips lifting ina barely amused smile. “You do that, Six.” He pushed the door open. “Guess I’llsee you around then.”
I nodded. I guess he would see me around.
And I would see him.
And call him every morning at seven.
I waited until he’d pulled out of the parking lot in abrand-new Jeep Wrangler—apparently he was going all in with this whole Coloradolife—before thumping my forehead on the counter and closing my eyes against thepress of hot tears.
What had I gotten myself into now?
And how was I going to get out of it?
Chapter Fourteen
Ten Years Ago
Frankie walked quickly across the back yard to plantherself at my side. “He’s here,” she whispered discreetly. “He just walked inwith my Uncle Alek.”
“Francesca,” my dad beamed next to me, excited to bein such proximity to my friend. “You’re looking lovely tonight. Growing up tofavor your ma, you know that?”
My cheeks flushed on my friend’s behalf. Francescahated drawing attention toherselfand she hated beingput on display for parties like this one. But her uncles would not tolerate herbaseball cap and tomboy look tonight. She did look like her mom in her designermini dress that had a big bow on the right hip—which was a good thing for hersince the entirebratvahated her deceased dad. Her hair was down in loose curls and fell almost allthe way to her butt. She had even put on makeup tonight, something I’d made herrepeat on me when I got over here earlier.
“Th-thanks, Mr. Valero,” shemumbled.
“Call me Leon, honey. How many times do Igottatell you? Nobody calls me Mr. Valero unless they oweme alottamoney.”
She lifted her face and attempted a smile, “Leon.”
One of her uncles called her name from across the yard,and she snapped to attention. “Please excuse me.”
I watched her weave through party guests, careful notto touch anyone. When we were on a job, she was like a ghost. She could slipthrough a room unseen, unnoticed. But here, she didn’t stand a chance. Shewasn’t just on display. She was the focal point of the room. The poor orphanedprincess. Her uncles’ pride and joy. The future of theVolkovdynasty.
She had male cousins. It wasn’t like the syndicate wasgoing to be entirely left to her. Her uncles had wives and sons and otherfamily to step in. But they had also made a promise to Frankie’s mother. Theywere to give her a future, keep her close to the family, make sure she wastaken care of for the rest of her life. She didn’t have a choice. The syndicatewas her life.
It would always be her life.
My dad put his arm around me, ducking his head so wewouldn’t be overheard. “That girl okay?”
“She’s fine,” I replied automatically. My dad squeezedmy shoulder, demanding truth. “She hates being the center of attention,” Ishared, confessing it like it was a secret. “These kinds of things make heruncomfortable.”
He relaxed, letting out a good-natured chuckle. “Yeah,what is it about teenage girls, huh? These things make you uncomfortable too.”
Was it so surprising that being at a house withthieves, murderers, drug dealers, sex traffickers and all manner of lowlifescum would make me, a fifteen-year-old girl, uncomfortable? Apparently.
“I feel out of place,” I said, shrugging off his heavyarm. He smelled like booze and cigarettes and the girl he’d brought with him ashis date tonight. “There aren’t that many people here my age.”
