“Stay. Please.” My voice cracks, and it feels like if he walks out that door, I’ll never see him again. At least, not alive anyway. “We can go and get the money out together when the bank opens.”
He reaches for the deadbolt, his hand pausing on the lock, body language defeated. “Thanks, Em. But I just… I can’t drag you down with me. I’ll call you in the morning.”
The way he says it makes my skin prickle, my senses tingling. He doesn’t think he’s coming back either.
“Wait.”
Footsteps outside make both of us pause. Jake waves a hand, gesturing for me to stand behind him just as a loud thud fills the room.
The door doesn’t burst open so much as it explodes inward, the deadbolt splintering the frame as if it’s made of paper instead of reinforced steel.
Three men file through the doorway. Two flank the entrance while the third sweeps the apartment with cold efficiency. They’re not hurrying, not worried about noise or neighbours, or someone calling the cops. That tells me more about who we’re dealing with than anything Jake’s said tonight.
“What the…?” I start to speak, but when I glance at Jake, he gives me a sharp look and shakes his head, warning me to stay quiet.
He knows these men, and he isn’t surprised to see them.
Walking in once his men give the all-clear is a fourth man. Clearly the boss, he’s average height, with salt and pepper hair, and an expensive suit that would look classy, except that it’s paired with a giant, gaudy watch, deep sunbed tan, and far too much aftershave.
After taking in my now-destroyed modest apartment with barely concealed disdain, he returns his cool gaze to us, but as his emotionless blue eyes sweep over me, dread slithers down my spine.
This is not a man who’s going to agree to a payment plan.
“Kozlov,” Jake says quietly in greeting, eyes darting between the main man and his goons who’ve now positioned themselves like bouncers inside my front door.
Kozlov tilts his head and gives my brother a chilling smile, terrifying enough to make me grab onto the back of Jake’s shirt as a shiver passes through me.
“So, this is where you’ve been hiding.”
2
EMMA
Kozlov’s accent is faint, Eastern European maybe, but his English is perfect. “Jake Wilson. You’re a difficult man to find.”
There’s censure in his tone despite the tight smile he wears, the kind that suggests he’s going to enjoy what comes next.
“I was coming to see you tonight, I promise.” Jake’s voice is steady, but I feel the tension running through him, coiled tightly. “Let’s go outside and talk.”
“I think the time for privacy and subtlety is over.” Kozlov laughs and gestures to the broken door that’s hanging lopsided by its broken hinges.
He steps further into my tiny apartment, which feels even more cramped now, filled to bursting with more big muscles, cologne and aggression than it’s ever seen before.
“You know I am a very busy man, Jake. Yet here I am, hunting you down like a dog.” His men spread out, one disappearing into my bedroom, the other lifting Jake’s backpack off the ground and turning it inside out.
Drawers open and close. Hangers rattle as he rifles through my closet. My mother’s quilt is on that bed. My journal is on that nightstand.
Jake’s fingers grip the hem of my shirt, warning me to stay silent.
I bite my tongue and let them look.
“I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to sort some things out,” Jake says, more submissive than I’ve ever heard him.
Kozlov raises an eyebrow at Jake’s vague explanation of why he’s been dodging him. It’s probably a variation on the same thing he’s heard and seen many times before.
“You’re late, Jake. Very late.” Kozlov’s tone is deceptively calm as he saunters around the living area, looking at my pictures, running his hand along the back of my armchair, peering out the window. “You told me two weeks. Begged and pleaded with me for more time. Always more time. Then you told me just another two weeks. Then you stopped answering my calls.”
The icy look he gives Jake tells me that on the inside, this man is anything but calm. A vein bulges at his temple, and a tendon moves in his jaw. This is a man on the edge.
