A sharp and ugly anger tears through my chest.
“Any idea what he said?”
“We couldn’t get close enough to hear what they were saying without revealing ourselves, but she sat in the car for almost ten minutes before driving off.”
I grip the edge of my desk so hard my knuckles whiten. I stare at the grain of the wood but see nothing except the image of her in that parking lot, frozen, scared, and cornered by a man who should have been dead the night he laid hands on her.
I should have finished the job. This is completely my fault. I should never have left him breathing. I should have followed protocol. But I broke every rule that night. I walked away to carry her through the rain. Now she’s paying the price for my distraction.
“Where is she now?” I ask.
“Home,” he confirms. “She locked the door behind her and drew the curtains. She hasn’t left since she got inside.”
Good. That means she’s frightened enough to be cautious. But fear won’t save her. Fear won’t stop a man who already crossed the line of violence and lived to stalk her again.
“Keep the car on her street. I want eyes on every entrance.”
“Understood.”
I end the call and turn slowly to find Davýd back in the room, eyeing me suspiciously.
“What happened?” he asks.
I sigh warily, knowing that I’m going to have to tell him eventually. I’ve kept the details of that night closely guarded. He was already so distracted handling Lebedev that I didn’t want to bother him with this, too. He’s a dog with a bone, though, and he won’t take kindly to being lied to. So I tell him the truth, sparing some details.
“Leaving him alive isn’t like you,” he says after hearing the sordid details. “Although saving some damsel in distress isn’t like you, either.”
I groan because he’s right.
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” I say. “I did do both of those things, and now he’s threatening her.”
Davýd swears under his breath, low and vicious.
“You want me to send some guys after him?” he offers, ever the faithful soldier.
“We don’t know enough about him,” I answer, anger sharpening every word. “I’m such a fucking idiot. I should have done more recon on him.”
“Don’t blame yourself for what you didn’t do,” Davýd says patiently. “Let’s focus on what you’re going to do next. You’ve got a tail on the girl. Add in a protection detail.”
I shake my head. “No, that’s not enough,” I say, distracted almost to madness by the idea of her caught in this man’s crossfire.
He tilts his head. “Then what do you want to do?”
I inhale once, slowly and deliberately. “I want her brought to my apartment.”
His eyebrows lift in surprise. “You think she’ll come willingly?”
“I don’t give a damn if she comes willingly. She’s in danger. I will not let this play out with her alone in that apartment, waiting for him to strike again.”
Davýd studies me for a moment, then nods. “I’ll send the car.”
He’s about to rise when I add, “And make sure she’s handled gently.”
He freezes, then smiles faintly. “Of course.”
I move to the window, staring down at the city. Somewhere out there, she sits in darkness, trembling because a man I should have killed just breathed the same air as her again. The idea claws at me. It undermines everything I am. I have spent decades ensuring the people I care about live untouched. I’ve never allowed weakness. No soft spots. No vulnerabilities.
Until her.
