Chloe responds in a frantic whisper. “I mean, I should be over it, right? It happened a long time ago.”
“But it’s like it was yesterday.” Bree’s voice placates. Soothes. “I know. It’s like that with trauma. Look, you told me you had nightmares for years. Hell, you had one last year. It’s okay.”
“Is it, though?” Chloe releases a heavy sigh. “People experience stressful events all the time. It’s not like I went through combat.”
“Don’t invalidate your trauma.” A pause. “What happened to you…it sounds terrible. That ordeal would be a lot for anyone, let alone a young girl. I read the newspaper article you showed me. Tropical storms, that fire, guys running around with guns… The whole thing sounds hellish.”
My blood freezes in my veins. This can’t possibly be related.
But how could it not be?
Bree shares my thoughts. “You don’t think this has anything to do with all that, do you?”
My heartbeat slows to a crawl, each thud distinct and heavy in my chest.
Island. Tropical storm. Gunfire. Fifteen years ago.
No. Fucking. Way.
No way is Chloe connected to the island from the Kozlov’s past. The past MJ’s research dug back up. The island Roman hasn’t willingly talked about…for fifteen years.
“No, Bree. It has nothing to do with that. That’s over. I just need…”
Their voices drop again, too low for me to parse.
Doesn’t matter. With some of the pieces falling into place, I’m forming a picture I never expected.
Chloe’s not just a random kindergarten teacher. Somehow, she’s connected to my family’s past and the island where everything went wrong.
Through the window, I spy a sedan parked at the end of the cul-de-sac. Lights off. Angled for a speedy exit.
My muscles tense as I survey the area, identifying not one but three watchers positioned around the house.
They know Bree is Chloe’s friend.
These are professionals settling in for a siege. Patience is the mark of a trained killer. Whatever they’re waiting for, they believe it’s worth the risk of lingering in a residential neighborhood where any nosy neighbor might spot them.
I march through the kitchen to the formal dining room, lifting the curtain a fraction to peer out. Across the street, a dark figure lurks under a tree. Unnoticeable if you don’t know where to look.
Farther down, another shape moves. A man walks like he’s out for an evening stroll while casually scanning houses.
My mind whirls, analyzing the situation from every angle.
Who’s after me? And why track me all the way out to the damned suburbs? It would be easier to hit me in the city, on my own turf, where they’d have a dozen escape routes and the chaos of urban crowds to disappear into.
Unless they don’t want me at all and simply trailed me to find Chloe.
I try to fit more puzzle pieces together. If she was on the same island fifteen years ago, she might have seen the diamonds. Might’ve taken them, even accidentally.
Suka.
I have no idea who’s out there—Falcones, I initially thought—but maybe I’m wrong. Whoever they are, they’re killers. And Chloe’s their probable target.
I thought I needed the kindergarten teacher with me to get answers, but now I can just let her go.
The play is simple. I can leave her behind and melt into the night. Allow the monsters to chase her down—she’ll never escape—while I figure out where the diamonds are.
That’s the kind of brutal calculus my father lived and died by.
