Her expression doesn’t change. She doesn’t gasp or recoil. Just sits patiently.
“When Roman points and says take care of it, I take care of it. I’m very good at my job.” There’s no tactful way to put this. I need her to understand. “I hurt people. I kill people.”
“I know.” Chloe picks at the sheet, her fingers slow and deliberate. “I’ve seen you…handle things. You don’t move likesomeone who just happens to know how to fight. You move like someone who does it the same way I sort cubbies.”
A strange comparison, but true enough. “I was sent to find you because we have intel that leads us to believe you’re connected to the diamonds.”
Her eyes widen, just slightly. “I promise you, I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about. Are you sure it’s me you’re supposed to find?”
“Yes.” I twitch, uncomfortable with the memory of how I’d pushed her in my attempts to break her. “A while ago, one of our people, MJ Kozlov, was investigating that night on the island. The night you were there.”
Her brow furrows. “MJ?”
“A cousin. Found dead a few months ago. Official ruling was suicide, but his brother, Alexei, didn’t believe it.” I wait for any sign that she recognizes the names, that she’s holding back. But her confusion seems genuine. “MJ found a connection between that night and a cache of diamonds worth twenty million. Those diamonds went missing during the chaos. Roman’s diamonds. And somehow, MJ linked them to you.”
“Me?” She snorts and rolls her eyes. “I was nine years old. What would I be doing with diamonds? I don’t even… How many diamonds is twenty million? Or how big? Are they…big?”
I swallow a chuckle at how her attention shifts. “The connection could be coincidental. You might have seen something, or someone, without even realizing the significance. Children are used as mules sometimes…given things to carry without understanding what they are.”
Her hair swings around her shoulders as she shakes her head. “I don’t remember much from that night. Just fragments. The rain. Fire. Gunshots. People running.” Her eyes glaze in that distant way that indicates she’s retreating into her memories. “I hid under a porch. I saw a man with agun, running low to the ground. Our eyes met. Then I ran too. Toward the beach. There were bodies…”
As her voice trails off, I fight the urge to touch her and retrieve her from the horrors she’s reliving.
Because we both need her to remember.
I snap my fingers to regain her attention. “Roman believes the Falcones, another crime family, are also searching for the diamonds.” There’s still no hint of recognition at the names. “Most likely, that’s who’s after us. After you.”
She’s quiet for a long while. “So I’m bait? You were sent to find me, use me to lure out these Falcones, or to find the diamonds, or both.”
I draw in a breath. “No. I was only tasked with finding you and retrieving the diamonds. I don’t know when, or if, the Falcones made the same connection MJ did. Or how.”
“And the rest?” Her eyes drop briefly to my bare chest, then return to my face. “Was that part of the mission too?”
The question hits like a fist to the nuts. “No.” I hold her stare so she can see the honesty in my eyes. “I didn’t plan for that. I’m not a good man, Chloe. I’ve done terrible things. But none of this was scripted. I planned to extract whatever information you had, locate the diamonds, and disappear from your life.”
“What changed?”
The simplicity of the question undoes me.
I can’t lie to her.
“You.” The truth sounds so damn corny. “You changed everything.”
Her gaze never wavers.
Most people can’t maintain eye contact this long. They flinch away, uncomfortable with the intimacy, the exposure.
Not Chloe. She stares straight at me, unblinking. Pride warms my chest.
My little teacher is so much tougher than she gives herself credit for.
“When I was thirteen,”suka blyat, I can’t believe I’m telling her this, “my father died protecting Roman’s father, the previous boss. He took a bullet meant for him. Roman told me my father died a hero, that there was no higher calling than protecting the Pakhan. That was the day Roman became my mentor. Shaped me into what I am.”
I flex my hands and examine them. Scarred knuckles…calloused palms… Hands built for violence.
Her soft hand covers mine. She raises it to her face and nuzzles my palm, pressing gentle kisses along my scars.
My skin buzzes beneath her lips.
