He scans the trees behind us, the houses, the street beyond. Always checking. Like he expects danger from all sides.
“Private security.” With his clipped, automatic reply, he doesn’t even try to sell his cover story convincingly.
“Bull. Private security doesn’t get people shot at. Private security doesn’t know how to break bones with one move. Private security doesn’t—” My voice cracks. “Doesn’t do what you did to me.”
His glittering eyes snap to mine. “You wanted what I did to you.”
He’s right.
I’ve never wanted anything so badly in my life.
Only I desired those intimacies from someone who doesn’t actually exist.
Stupid, stupid girl.“You’re not even Manny’s father, are you? Or his uncle. Or whatever you claimed to be.”
In the dim moonlight filtering through the leaves, I spy the confirmation in his expression.
Oh my god.
Everything inside shatters. The pieces of my scrupulously constructed world crack into even tinier fragments.
That morning at the farmers market, the incident with my phone, my flat tire, the craft store… Kolya materializing like some dark guardian angel.
He targeted me and engineered every single moment. For what?
“You lied to me from the start.” My voice breaks.
His hand tightens on my wrist. “We need to move.” He’s cold and remote, nothing like the man in my living room twenty minutes ago.
I wrench my arm free from his grasp, surprising us both. “No. I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re…some kind of criminal. Men are shooting at you. If I just?—”
I spin, preparing to bolt back toward the street to find help. His arm snakes around my waist, yanking me against his chest. His heated breath fans my ear.
“If you run, you die. Look.” He points at the dark sedan cruising beneath the streetlights. “They’re not just after me.”
My B-movie theory dies a quick, brutal death. This is an A-list nightmare. The kind where the supporting characters don’t survive to see the credits.
I go limp in his arms, the fight rapidly draining out of me. He loosens his grip but keeps one hand firmly on my arm like he’s afraid I may bolt.
Those men, whoever they are, have guns, and I have nothing. No weapon, no phone, no plan. Just an armed man I barely know. My only chance at survival.
I suck in a breath, inhaling the scent of pool chlorine and fresh-cut grass. A small part of me always knew this day would come. “Where do we go?”
“Somewhere they won’t find us. Somewhere I can think.”
I glance back toward the street, then at Kolya, this stranger who’s dragged chaos and violence into my meticulously ordered life.
I’m not fine, but I am alive. For right now, that has to be enough.
The dark sedan crawls across the asphalt like a predator scenting blood. Its headlights cut through the black, sweeping over manicured lawns and cookie-cutter houses. I press myself deeper into the shadows between the Millers’ azalea bushes and hold my breath until my lungs burn.
Kolya’s body shields mine, his back muscles taut beneath his shirt.
He’s prepared to kill if necessary.
That knowledge terrifies me, but for the first time since bullets started flying, I also feel secure.
The car slows, and the window slides down with an electric purr. A silhouette—a shadow against shadows—hangs out. Even from here, I can sense the ill intent.
