His gun goes off and hits my attacker in the shoulder. He rears up with a scream, and I lift my gun and put three in his chest. He lands on me just as the crashing vehicle slams to a stop, and a deafening silence falls.
A soft hiss rises from the engine and there’s a soft clicking from the dashboard indicating that the driver’s seat belt has come undone. Hot blood drips from my attacker and down onto my chest but thankfully, the weight of him prevented me from being flung in any direction when we crashed.
I wait with bated breath for one of them to surge upward once again, but they remain silent as they are dead.
After dragging myself out from underneath the corpse of my attacker, I ditch my jacket and take the one from the back of the driver’s seat. It’s got a hole in it but it hides the blood soaked into my shirt. Neither the driver nor my attacker had any kind of identification, only a pack of smokes, a lighter, and a small bottle of alcohol. Outside, the pouring rain long sent any witnesses running for cover, so after tossing the lit lighter into the front seat of the taxi, I hurry away into the darkness of the town.
It’s late by the time I make it to the bar on foot. Inside, everyone is having a merry time dancing and drinking while sports play on the television. Every instinct in my tired mind warns me against walking into a place as busy as that, but Faina wanted to meet here so she must be inside.
Unless the attack earlier was orchestrated by her and I’m walking right into the jaws of another trap.
Only one way to find out.
Just as I approach the door, a hand closes over my forearm. I spin on the spot with my first raised and come face to face withFaina. Her dark hair is scooped up into a ponytail with several framing strands plastered to her face thanks to the rain. Her pleasant smile immediately fades as she studies my face and a strong frown takes its place.
“Cian, what the hell happened?”
“You tell me,” I snap. “I was attacked coming here to meet you.”
She glances over her shoulder, then scans up and down the street. “You weren’t followed?”
“What do you take me for?”
She looks back at me with a light smile playing on her beautiful face. “I’ve been watching you since the crossroads. I gave you this address to see if you were being followed.”
“You don’t trust me.”
Her eyes narrow playfully. “Come on, follow me.”
Faina releases my arm and walks away from the bar. She leads me across the wet street and down a back alley, then up a winding iron staircase and into a small, musty apartment. It doesn’t look like anyone has lived here in years.
The floor is bare floorboards with several slats crumbling from age and damp. Off-white walls streaked with dirt line the small hallway and the single room Faina leads me into. To my left is a small kitchen consisting of one counter, an iron stove that needs wood to stock it, and a small mini-fridge Faina must have brought herself, judging by how modern it looks compared to the rest of the apartment. The living area consists of one overturned couch with zero cushions, two old straight-back chairs, and a wooden crate acting as a makeshift table. Two glassdoors stand open, leading onto a small balcony that looks down over the bar.
Faina closes one over to stop the rain from pouring in and turns to me with a stern look. “Sit,” she says, pointing at one of the chairs. “Let me take a look at you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you really want to fight about it?” She arches one dark brow. “I’d win. I always win.”
“Good to see the current predicament hasn’t dampened your cockiness,” I mutter as I shed my coat. Before I can sit, Faina surges forward and her long fingers pluck at my blood-soaked shirt.
“Cian! Fucking hell, did you get shot?” The warm concern in her voice chases away any of her lingering sass, and her gorgeous blue eyes flood with worry when our eyes meet.
“I’m fine,” I reply quietly, closing my hand over her wrist and gently detaching her. “It’s not my blood.”
Faina barely hides her relief as she nods, causing her thick ponytail to bob. “Good. Sit.”
She moves past me, and I’m left with a cloud of her floral perfume that hits me with a nostalgic punch straight to the chest. Chocolate, winterberry, and a hint of vanilla. I’ve never smelled that scent on anyone else in my entire life. It took two months of us dating in secret for me to learn that she mixes two perfumes to reach that scent.
My eyes close briefly as I sit, and for a moment, there’s just peace. The rain batters against the window panes, gentle noise of excitement drifts up from the bar below, and Faina’s footstepsmove around the small apartment as she gathers what she needs. I don’t open my eyes until the crate before me creaks with her weight, and she’s sitting in front of me when I open my eyes.
“Tell me what happened,” Faina says. “Every detail.”
Various medical items surround her, and as I describe the altercation in the taxi, she strips open gauze packets and uncaps antiseptic cream to treat my injuries. When she touches me, it’s difficult to keep my story straight. A long time ago, Faina and I started dating in secret after an altercation in which she almost killed me. It was more fun than I ever wanted to admit, but there was something so alluring about a woman who could kick my ass one minute and cry over otter videos the next.
She was supposed to be my future.
But then the Irish-Italian treaty fell apart and war broke out. My attention was demanded elsewhere, and if anyone discovered our relationship, then there would be even more hell to pay. It was one thing for Saoirse to be mistaken for a traitor and schemer, but for me as well? We never would have survived.
