Networking disguised as protection.
My mother excelled at both.
I was supposed to memorize the local officers’ numbers, but I never believed anyone would actually come after me. Not when my mother would benefit more from the tragedy than the ransom.
I needed a plan. A real one.
The shop was too small. The front was blocked by his tattooed goons. The back door led to a dead-end alley. The storage room was the only real option. I was closer to it than he was… but that advantage was razor thin.
He was tall—tootall—and all hard muscle under a tailored suit. He moved like someone used to controlling rooms and the people in them. Silent. Efficient. A man who could throw me over his shoulder without missing a step.
“Do you have a budget you’d like to stay under?” I asked, forcing myself to turn toward him.
He was closer again—uncomfortably close—like he was measuring exactly how far I could get before he stopped me.
“No, money is not an issue,” he said, tone dipped in amusement.
Was money not an issue because he didn’t plan to pay…or because crime paid very, very well?
I returned a polite smile, praying my eyes didn’t betray the panic clawing its way up my throat. I curled my fingers into fists to still the shaking, then forced them to uncurl as I pretended to type, eyes barely registering the information on the screen.
The bat waited just below my reach.
The storage room door was ten feet away.
One hit—knees, drop him—then run. Slam the door. Lock it. Call for help.
A terrible plan. But the only one I had.
He knew my name.
Worse — he’d used the version only my mother used.
That alone confirmed why he was here.
Anyone else would have called me Anna. Or wouldn’t know my name at all.
My breaths turned shallow. My stomach flipped like it wanted out of my body. I didn’t have much longer before he noticed the stall.
“Okay,” I said, steadying my voice. “It looks like we have a few options. Let me just make a list, and I can show you what we have.” I reached under the countertop as if to grab a notepad but aimed for the smooth handle of the bat.
His hand clamped around my wrist before I even brushed the cold metal.
I hadn’t seen him move. Not even a shift of shadow.
“What are you doing?” The scream shredded out of me as I tried to yank free.
His grip tightened, bones grinding painfully beneath his fingers.
He leaned in, calm, in complete control.
“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,maya soloveyka. My little nightingale.”
CHAPTER 4
DARIUS
The endearment shocked me.
