“Since she doesn’t know anything, fear, intimidation, and torture are all a waste of time. The diamonds are connected to her, but I don’t know how. I have to stay close and see where she leads me. It’s the only strategic play.”
I’ve always been the enforcer.
Cold. Professional. Logical.
So why, then, does my pulse race as I picture Chloe’s wide eyes and trust? As I relive that guy in Hobby Hut coming for her. Imagine him grabbing her. Touching her. Hurting her.
Because I need her alive to get the blasted diamonds.
That’s all.
Kirill’s command cuts through my thoughts. “Pick up the fucking pace.”
At his obvious tension, my attention spikes. “What’s going on?”
“Things are quiet. Too quiet. And Gio has become vapor. Just gone.”
That doesn’t surprise me. The man’s a bad penny, only showing up at the worst times. “You sure Alexei hasn’t killed him?”
A brief chuckle. “If only. No one has seen Gio since the art show. Alexei can’t find him, and he’s been searching since he returned from his honeymoon. The man’s in the wind.” His voice hardens. “Get the diamonds.”
The line goes dead.
I grip the steering wheel, my knuckles white. That’s when I notice a spray of gold glitter across the back of my bloodied hand. The glitter mixes with my blood, shimmering in the light filtering through the windshield.
My violence blending with her brightness.
I wipe my hand on my jeans, but the glitter stays. I rub more vigorously, frustration building in my throat. The damn stuff is like herpes. Spreads easily and never really goes away.
I’ll be dealing with this shit forever.
And no part of me should want that as a reminder of a perky schoolteacher.
CHLOE
I stand in my driveway, squinting down the street where Kolya’s car should be. A few blocks after leaving Hobby Hut, his sleek black Audi just vanished from my rearview mirror.
His absence leaves me hollow in a way I wasn’t prepared for. Did he abandon me? Leave me to face whatever danger we stirred up alone? If so, that’s good, right? That’s what I wanted all along.
A drop-dead gorgeous package of menacing mystery isn’t exactly on my Pinterest board.
Best to stay away so I can go back to my quiet and orderly life.
So I can return to feeling fine.
“Fine is for when people are trying to pretend they’re okay.”
When did I start seeing through my own bullshit? Probably around the time Kolya’s elbow connected with that man’s collarbone. Or this morning, while waking up with no memory of how I fell asleep and the ghost of his touch on my skin.
I head to my front door, keys jingling in my trembling fingers. Inside, my carefully constructed life awaits. The lesson plans and craft supplies, the romance novels I live through vicariously, the globe bar I dream of spinning someday.
Safe things that help keep the darkness at bay.
My hand hesitates on the doorknob. Do I really want to return to that? To crafting the perfect project while pretending I don’t have a taste for danger?
A flash of motion at the end of the street catches my eye. My heart seizes, then restarts at double speed. Kolya’s car approaches with the same controlled purpose as the man himself.
Differing reactions wash through me. Sparklers inside my chest. Cold chills that slither down my spine. Heat that pools low in my belly.
