Chapter 1
CLAIM YOUR FREE BOXSET
Andy Carter
Shattered.
There really isn’t another way to describe how I’m feeling as I step out of the entrance of his apartment block and onto the wet paving outside. Thank God the security guards hadn't stopped me from leaving…although a little part of me still wishes they had.
I want to tell myself that it was all a mistake. That I’d screwed up by caving in to the desperate need I’d had to fall into his arms. I’ve longed for him. During those awful nights, listening to the echoes of human misery all around me, it had been the memories of us that had helped get me through. That, and the rage against Whitlock that kept driving me.
It wasn’t a mistake…nothing about what has happened between us has ever been wrong or bad. Even when I think of how he’d investigated what happened to Kyle and my family without telling me, I know it wasn’t wrong. He’d been trying to protect me, and I can’t blame him for that.
But watching Mateo sleep in the early morning hours brought an ache to my chest. Those strong, beautiful features, so peaceful at rest. The bruising that marred his cheek and jawline reminding me of what he’d been through because of me. It made the ache deepen. An ache that grew to a sharp agony, which became more unbearable as I gradually came to terms with what had to come next. I had to leave. But more than that…
I can never see him again.
I’d pressed my lips to his forehead, slipped from that warm bed, and allowed myself one last lingering look at him before turning away and retrieving the clothing we’d left strewn through his apartment. And then I’d walked out. But I haven’t just left his apartment. I’m getting out, and I’m never coming back. My next plan will undoubtedly see to that…because it’s a suicide mission.
I keep walking, head down against the persistent rain that masks the tears that have begun to stream. Though I’m resolute in my planning of what must happen next. I have to contact Mark and convince him that I had nothing to do with what happened in that club. I have to make him think that Mateo took me against my will. I still want to be angry with him about that, though it’s hard. As much as he’d screwed up my plans to kill my brother’s murderer, I know why he did it.
Mateo Ricci will wage war for me. And he’ll die doing it.
Everyone who tries to protect me ends up dead.
The only way to end this curse is to take matters into my own hands. To get rid of Mark Whitlock once and for all. I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that it’ll end my life as I know it. Either I’ll be dead or in prison. But I’ve accepted that. I just won’t take anyone else down with me. Especially not Mateo. Especially when he’s managed to worm his way into my traitorous fucking heart.
I rub a hand over my eyes, where rainwater has streamed into them, mingling with tears. Then I leap as a car horn sounds abruptly.
“Are you drunk, you fucking ho?” someone yells at me. When I refocus my attention, I realize I’m poised to take a step into the road. I’m in the skintight black dress I’d worn to the club last night. The low-cut neckline and high slits up the thighs are even more revealing now because the rain has plastered the fabric to my body. I must look like a hooker.
I hadn’t thought much about who I might run into out here – so intent on getting away. But now I notice that although it’s still early morning, traffic is flowing. It’s the city that never sleeps, after all. Any minute, Mateo won’t be sleeping either…and he will come looking for me.
I aim a look both ways up the sidewalk, getting my bearings. I need to get back to my shitty apartment. Thank God I managed to find a pair of sneakers that I’d left behind when I’d been staying with Mateo – they’re not a great accompaniment to my slutty black dress, but at least I’m not barefoot. And despite the madness last night, I’d had the presence of mind to keep a grip on my little purse. There was no way I could take a chance on leaving it behind, considering its deadly contents. Aside from the small envelope of thallium, there’s also a wad of hundred-dollar bills and my cheap little phone.
I set off down the sidewalk, raising my hand each time I see a cab come by. Half a dozen drive straight past before one stops. I clamber in, ignoring the curious stare of the driver, and give my address.
“Busy night?” the guy asks, almost making my heart stop.
“Fought with my boyfriend,” I mutter. “Pretty sure he’s gonna come looking for me, so if you hear from anyone…”
“Yeah, I hear ya. Never saw ya.” He nods, keeping his eyes on the road. Though I’m sure he’s sneaking glances at my cleavage in the rearview mirror.
I settle into the back seat, grateful for the heating inside. I need to get my stuff and move. Then I have to figure out my next step. I rub my eyes, feeling the weight of all that’s happened begin to sink onto me.
“You okay, sweetheart?” the cab driver asks.
“Sure.” I’m really not in the mood to get friendly. I give him a hard stare, then turn my attention out the window until we pull up outside the shitheap I’ve called home for the past few weeks. “Remember. You never saw me,” I tell him as I push a couple of notes into his hand. Far more than the fare. His eyes widen, and he nods. I sense he’s about to say something, but I’m already got my sights set on the entrance of the building.
I make my way up the stairs, reminding myself that this will be the last time I have to skip past the pools of puke and pee that stink up the place. The last time I’ll have to hear the fighting and the screaming babies. The last time I’ll have to deal with Al, my sleazy landlord. It’s almost enough to lift my spirits slightly. Not by much, though.
It barely takes me five minutes to pack my stuff. I’ve survived with just a couple of changes of clothing these last weeks. The outfits I bought to wear on my dates with Mark can rot, for all I care, so I leave them, shoving the rest in a duffel bag. There isn’t much here that I need in order to do what I have planned next.
Just Kyle’s journal.
And my gun.
Chapter 2
