I tuck her against me, protecting her with my body.
She twists and shoves at my chest. “I need to be in plain sight. If I hide, she’ll know something’s wrong.”
What a mess. This is how frightened homeowners end up shooting people.
After I release my grip on her wrist, she strides into the kitchen and gestures with frantic hands. “You can’t hide either. I can’t explain hiding.”
Every nerve in my body protests.
Never expose yourself or present an easy target.
I follow her anyway, obscuring my gun while keeping it accessible.
She flips on the kitchen lights, and the sudden brightness momentarily blinds me.
After a few seconds pass, the front door swings open. Footsteps enter, then stop short as Chloe’s friend notices the glow. “Hello?”
I brace myself for what will surely happen next. The moment Chloe remembers I brought bullets and blood into her life and sprints back to the safety of her suburban world.
“Bree. Thank God.” Chloe hurries out of the kitchen. “I’m so glad you’re home. I’m so sorry for coming in without permission. I just… Things are crazy out there.”
Bree comes into view, tossing a purse on the counter and kicking off her white tennis shoes. Blond hair hangs from a high ponytail, still wavy from a tight bun. She hugs Chloe, her blue scrubs rumpled. “I know. My shift got cut, and I came home to, like, ten car alarms going off when I drove in. And cop cars. What’s going on? Are you…” Her green eyes widen on me, and she pushes Chloe half behind her, using her taller frame as a barrier.
I stand perfectly still, letting Chloe handle the situation.
Her hands flutter in a display of frantic energy that’s half real, half performance as she moves back around in front of her friend. “Bree, it’s a long story, but I think someone’s after me.” She gestures. “This is Kolya. A friend. He’s helping me.” She gives a flawless performance, selling the glass-thin lie with just the right touch of fear and desperation.
She could’ve told Bree to call the police while declaring, “This man brought killers to my door.”
Instead, she protected me.
I don’t know what to do with this information. And I really don’t know how to deal with someone who isn’t Bratva protecting me.
We protect our own. We don’t deal with strangers.
But this woman defendedme.
The truth slaps me across the face, but I have no time to consider the implications.
Bree draws Chloe into the hallway. I move to the window in the darkened living room, sliding heavy blackout curtains back with a knuckle to peer out while staying focused on their conversation.
“What the hell, Chloe? ‘A friend’? You mean the guy you mentioned on the phone that you didn’t havesex-sexwith? He reeks of danger.” Horror colors Bree’s voice. “No. You need to cut him loose.”
Sex-sex?I cock my head, intrigued.
“He’s helping me.” Even out of sight, I’m certain Chloe’s flapping her hands.
“Helping you do what? He’s staring out my window like he’s anticipating an airstrike.” Bree lowers her volume, and I strain to hear. “What have you gotten yourself into?”
“I don’t know.” Chloe’s voice cracks. “It’s just…chaos. Like my life isn’t my own anymore.” A beat. “I haven’t felt like this since…”
Silence. I continue to peer out the window, scanning for threats, wondering what she’s talking about.
“Since the island?”
My body stills.
The island?
