Any cooking I attempted was mediocre, at best. There had been no one to teach me during my formative years. I’d spent those years digging in trash cans for scraps.
Back then, I’d vowed to one day only eat the best food.
Same with my clothes. Nash gave me hell about my love of Armani, but I made no apologies for my predilection for designer suits made from the best fabrics. There were times when I’d been lucky to wear threadbare, charity castoffs on the verge of falling apart.
I filled a glass with ice from the fridge, then headed to my built-in bar. I poured myself a bourbon. Finally, I dropped onto the couch, and sat there in the semi-darkness.
Lark had been alone since I’d killed Ed. She’d had no one.
I knew what that felt like.
She’d been panicked yesterday. I’d sensed it, heard it in her voice, and felt it in her body. Landon was right. Deep down, she suspected something about Ed.
I could put my security team on the job of finding her. They were good. Nash had helped me hire the best to run security at the Avernus. Hell, Nash could also contact his hacker friend, who could find anybody.
I sipped the rare Pappy Van Winkle and enjoyed the earthy burn.
Suddenly, something whipped over my head.
A garrote wire.
I dropped the glass and bourbon spilled on the leather couch, before the glass hit the floor and smashed.
Moving fast, I thrust my arms up and the wire bit into my skin.
Fuck. I hadn’t heard or sensed her.
There was no way she should have been able to get into my highly secure penthouse.
Surging up, I twisted. I glimpsed large, brown eyes and a trim body, clad in a black catsuit. I shoved hard, and she released the wire and stumbled back.
“You could just use the phone, Lark. Make an appointment.”
Her face hardened. “No talking. You have nothing I want to hear.”
I circled the couch. My shirt was now wet with bourbon, and I wrinkled my nose.
She backed up beside my long, black dining table.
“I know you don’t want to hear it, but you need to.”
“Be quiet,” she snapped.
She grabbed a vase of flowers that my housekeeper put on the table and tossed it.
I ducked, and the crystal smashed on the floor. Flowers spilled everywhere.
I rushed her.
She grabbed a chair and tossed it. I knocked it aside. She swung an arm at me, but I blocked the hit. She kicked, aiming for my gut. I spun and grabbed her arm. We both whirled, doing an impromptu dance. Her next jab hit my kidney.
With a grunt, I released her. We traded blows and kicks, moving across my penthouse. We ended up in the kitchen.
She snatched the kettle off the counter and threw it. The toaster followed, then the heavy, stone mortar and pestle.
“Dammit.” I jerked left, then right. Everything crashed to the floor. “I just want to talk.”
Next, she found the knife block.
