I’ve been waiting for this ever since I found another woman’s underwear in the back of his car.
“There’s something I need from you.”
“Anything,” he says. “Name it.”
Most people would ask for something shiny. A car. A necklace. Something expensive and meaningless.
But me?
“I need you and your guys to keep your ears open for information or inquiries about a man and a woman.”
His expression shifts. “A man?”
I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes. “I don’t need you to find him. I just need to know if he’s looking. Specifically, if he’s using the Underground to track down a woman. My sister.”
“You have a sister?” Marcus looks genuinely surprised. He should. I just made her up.
“No one knows. For good reason. This guy? He’s dangerous. He hurt her, Marcus.”
That sobers him. For all his flaws, Marcus draws the line at hurting women. Physically, at least. Emotionally? He could shatter someone if they actually cared. Good thing I don’t.
He nods, slowly. “You’ll need to give me everything you’ve got—descriptions, names, details.”
“Done.” I meet his eyes. “Thank you.”
And I mean it.
Because now I finally have what I came for. Marcus will be watching for Joe, and if his name so much as gets whispered in the Underground, I’ll know.
Two birds. One stone.
∞∞∞
Sean—11 Months Ago…
It’s raining again.
A soft, steady fall that mutes the usual chaos of the city and turns the penthouse windows into watercolor.
Aro’s curled up on the leather couch like some gilded painting—bare legs tucked under her, wine glass in one hand, and a book in the other. She hasn’t turned a page in a while. She doesn’t seem sad. Just… tired. The kind of tired that lives in your bones. I’ve seen it before. Usually in soldiers who made it home, but not whole.
I stand near the kitchen, arms crossed, keeping watch.
She doesn’t look at me when she says, “You ever relax?”
I raise a brow, not that she can see it. “Doyou?”
That gets a half-smile. “Touché.”
She goes back to pretending to read. I go back to pretending I’m not watching her out of more than just duty.
I’ve been with her for a month now, and this woman is always on guard. Always armored up, even when she looks calm. Just thinking about it stresses me out.
She sets the wine down and stretches, slow and catlike, her dress slipping a little off her shoulder. I look away, but not fast enough.
She catches it. “Relax. It’s just a shoulder. I’m not trying toseduce you.”
I snort. “If you were, that would be extremely unprofessional.”
