“Holy shit. Sloane, what else aren’t you telling me?”
Oh, nothing major. My whole life is a lie. I’m being blackmailed by a Russian sex trafficker, I’m not a real American citizen, and Sloane isn’t my real name.
I shouldn’t admit any of my secrets, but dammit. I need a friend now more than ever.
An hour later, she knows my truth. Much of it, anyway. How I came to this country. How Max saved me. Gave me a new life. A career. Freedom. Of a sort.
“Why didn’t you tell Max?” she asks. “He needs to know!”
Sniffling, I tip my head back against the couch cushions and pull the cool washcloth from my eyes. “Because I was all of two hours late with my first payment and Dimitri sent a man to break into my house and hurt me. Max didn’t call me for two days. When he did, he was so excited about Zurich, what was I supposed to say? ‘Great news about the Christmas Book. By the way, I’m being blackmailed, someone broke into my house and threatened my life, and if I don’t pay them, you’ll lose your career, your freedom, and probably everything you’ve ever loved. Oh, and I’ll end up deported or murdered or in jail’? Not a conversation we should have over the phone. If at all. What if Dimitri bugged my house? Or my phone?”
“Sloane, he needs to know. You can’t keep giving this asshole two thousand dollars every month. You’ll be broke in no time.” Marina squeezes my hand, sending another few tears burning my eyes until I drape the cool cloth over them once more.
I thank God I can’t see her as I clear my throat. “I’ll tell him in person. It’ll be so much easier to sit down face to face. Somewhere I know we won’t be overheard.”
“What are you going to do? About the money, I mean?” Marina asks.
“Max knows I want to retire. I only have eight months left on my contract with Ulstrum. That’s sixteen thousand dollars. If I take out a loan, I can pay Dimitri with that money and move my savings and investments somewhere they can’t be linked to me. Overseas. As soon as I’m not obligated the agency or to Max, I can disappear.”
Marina snatches the washcloth from my face. “Disappear? Like, what? Move to Costa Rica?”
Shrugging, I sit up. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought everything through yet. But I have to convince my mama and sisters to leave Penza so he can’t findthemeither. Because he would. To get to me, he’d hurt them. But as long as they agree, it’s the best solution…”
“Bullshit. You can’t give up your whole life because some piece of garbage sex trafficker has naked photos of you. That’s insane.In-sane.”
God, I wish it were as simple as Marina thinks it is. “It’s not the photos. It’s everything else. I’m here illegally. My papers are forged. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been paying taxes for fifteen years, that I’ve never broken a single law since Max got me into rehab. The government would deport me and take everything. And what about Max? He knew exactly what to do when he saved me. What does that tell you?”
“That he’s done the same thing for other women. Shit.” Marina drains the last of her sparkling cider and flops down next to me. “Sloane, you trust me, right?”
“You have to ask after what I just told you? If any of that gets out…”
“I know, but this is different,” she says, covering her hand with mine. “I know someone who might be able to help.”
“No.” I sit up and grab her shoulders. “You cannot tell anyone.”
“It wouldn’t be justanyone. My cousin works for a security firm in Boston. They help people in trouble. All kinds of trouble. No police, no government. Let me call Clive and ask him some hypothetical questions. Please. He’ll know what to do.”
“No. This ismylife, andmydecision. You have to let it go.” Fresh tears tumble down my cheeks, and I’m so desperate, I’d shake Marina if I thought it would help. But whatever she sees in my eyes must convince her because she sighs.
“Fine. I won’t say anything. For now. But…it’s an option, okay?”
Wrapping my arms around Marina, I swallow hard over the lump in my throat. “You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted with this. The only person I ever could. But I can’t put anyone else at risk. I’m sorry.”
* * *
Griff
The buzzer affixed to my headboard vibrates insistently. Dax and his team have been an endless source of gadgets to make my life easier. This one syncs with my phone and vibrates the bed frame whenever I get a call or a text in the middle of the night. Since it’s barely 6:00 a.m., the text can only be from a handful of people.
Snagging the phone, I blink hard until the screen comes into focus. Yep. Pritchard.
Using yet another piece of software I wouldn’t have without Dax, I answer the call, then tap the screen so Austin’s words appear as text, but I can still talk to him.
“You do realize what time it is, right?” I ask.
“Can you get to Montgomery County AirPark in two hours?” he asks.
“Are you even awake, man? It’s all of fifteen minutes away. Of course I cangetthere. Want to give me a good reason why?”
