She scrunches her nose. “Why would you do that?”
“You’re mine. And I protect what’s mine.” I reach for her hand, but she pulls it away.
I frown.
“Don’t say that.” She averts her gaze. “I’m not yours, Kaz. The baggage I’m carrying would sink the Titanic.” When her eyes land on me again, they’re brimming with tears.
I feel like an asshole for pushing her like this, but I need answers. “Does this baggage have anything to do with A. Monte Cristo?”
Something flickers in her eyes.
I’ve seen that expression before.
“I’ll never forget the look of sheer terror on your face whenthat person called. With your two business partners still at large, I thought maybe this person was tied to them.”
She twists her lips. “There’s so much about me you don’t know.”
“Why don’t you start with A. Monte Cristo? Who the fuck is that guy?”
She pinches her lips together.
Time to remove the kid gloves. “I hired an investigator to look into him, but he didn’t find much.”
“You did what?”
“If Ellen and Qi Zhang had sent a goon to shake you down for more money, I wanted to be prepared. They would have to go through me before reaching you. And over my dead body was I going to allow that to happen.”
She opens her mouth and closes it.
She does that a few times.
“Harley, if you keep closed up like a clam, I can’t help you.”
She stares at me like I’m an alien.
Irritation flares. “I asked you a question. Who’s A. Monte Cristo?”
She bursts into tears.
Fuck, it tears me inside to see her cry.
Chapter 54
All your broken pieces
Kazimir
After a five-minute helicopter ride, and an hour and a half on the road from Newark to Brooklyn in bumper to bumper traffic with silence and tension filling the space between Harley and me, we’re sitting at the same kitchen table where all this drama started two days ago.
I take a long swig of my vodka on the rocks and drop my tumbler on the table. “Before I kick you out of my house and my life, I think I deserve the truth.”
“Why bother drag me back to your place if it’s just to kick me out?”
“Over my dead body was I going to leave you in that fucking dump of a motel. And like I said, I deserve the truth.” I loosen my tie and undo the first button of my shirt.
She blinks.
She’s no longer bawling her eyes out, but the signs of her distress linger on—the hollow look in her gaze, the bags under her eyes are a terrible shade of purple and gray. Her shoulders slumped, lower lip trembling the longer she stares at me.
