Chapter Thirteen
Zephyr
I can’t believethat worked. Oliver didn’t recognize me, and I had just enough time to clone his mobile before the tour group took off again.
Now that I can see everything on his device—including any text messages he sends and receives—I crouch down behind a dumpster in an alley, as he texts François, Alex, and Theo.
Oliver: The bank closes in an hour and no sign of Martín or Zephyr. Are we certain Dante’s still loyal?
François: He knows what will happen to him if he is not. Your sister is a smart woman. We will study the video you took when you return. She may have been in disguise.
Oliver: I know my own sister. She’s not that good at disguises.
Clapping my hand over my mouth to stifle my snort, I tuck the phone into my back pocket. Oliver wouldn’t know a good disguise if it hit him over the head with a sledgehammer.
I can’t leave the area until 5:00 p.m. If Dante did flag Martín’s account and he shows? I’d never forgive myself. But my phone gives me access to a security camera feed with a clear view of the bank’s front entrance, so I ease myself down to the ground, pull my knees in to my chest to conserve as much body heat as I can, and wait.
* * *
The loaded pizzain the box balanced on my hip smells amazing. I hope my peace offering smooths things over with Ronan. I know he won’t be happy I went off on my own, but as soon as I saw Oliver and Theo on the security feed, Ihadto make sure Martín didn’t walk right into a trapIinadvertently set for him.
Placing my palm over the scanner, I’m almost surprised when the locks disengage. Most of the apartment lights are off. Ronan sits on the couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand and the bottle on the table in front of him next to my laptop. The laptop he unlocked. The laptop with a dark web facial recognition program on screen.
“Um. Hi.”
“Lock the door, will you?” The lack of emotion in his voice sends goosebumps racing down my arms. The sound of the deadbolt is so loud, I almost flinch.
“I brought pizza. And information,” I offer. Sliding the box onto the counter, I stop a few feet from the couch.
“Youleft.” Ronan slams the glass down on the table and stalks over to me. He’s a good six inches taller than I am, and I have to crane my neck to meet his gaze. “I gave you my trust, and you left. You’re not on your own anymore, Zephyr. I thought we’d agreed on that.”
“No.” Anger has me drawing up to my full height, hands on my hips. “Youagreed and I told you I’d try. That I wasn’t good at trusting people. And Ididtrust you. I told you where I was going and left all my stuff here. Well…most of my stuff.”
“That’s not the point. You risked your life—alone—for no good reason. If you’d called me, I would have met you there. Instead, I had to track you down, watch as you get within a foot of your brother—the brother who tried tokill you—and then run right into the arse who shot me!”
“What? Theo? You saw Theo? Are you okay?” I grab his hands, but he jerks away. “Ronan, talk to me!”
“That’s rich.Nowyou want to talk?” He shakes his head. “Theo didn’t recognize me. Neither did you, apparently. And you’re tryin’ to change the subject. We’re still talkin’ about you not trustin’ me.”
“How many times do I need to repeat myself? I trust you. Butyouneed to trust that I’ve been on my own, on the run, for longer than you’ve been working for Second Sight. I know a thing or two about keeping myself safe. And you stopped being my keeper when you stopped tying me up.”
I’m done with this conversation, and after more than an hour in a dirty, freezing alley, I need a shower. Turning on my heel, I head for the bathroom and slam the door.
The first thing I discovered about Ronan last night after I sawed through the flexi-cuffs? He has a bathroom to die for. Rainfall shower head with multiple steam jets, heated floors, and towels so thick, they could double as pillows. Shedding the bright red leather jacket, black wool turtleneck, and jeans, I’m about to unhook my bra when the door bangs open. I flinch, but don’t bother grabbing a towel. He’s already seen everything.
“Fuck me,” Ronan says quietly. “Your back…” His warm fingers trace one of the thicker scars. I remember that one. Theo took a serrated blade to my shoulder. Then poured vodka over the wound.
“Can’t let that get infected,” Françoistaunts from the corner of the room. “You are going to suffer more than you imagined possible before I kill you, little street rat.”
“Zephyr?” Ronan wraps his arm around my waist from behind, and I relax against him. “What happened?”
“Six months after Yoden was killed, I got sloppy,” I whisper. “Oliver, Theo, and Robbie ambushed me coming out of a hostel in Germany. I woke up in a basement, hanging from my wrists. They had me for three days. I’m only alive because my brother’s girlfriend slipped me the key to the handcuffs when she brought me some water. And François killed her for it.”
We don’t speak for several long moments, and I want to tell him everything. How the fear of capture was nothing compared to the terror I felt in that basement. How last night was the first night I’d spent in a proper bed in months. How I’ve ached to be held for so long, I can’t force myself to pull away.
His lips skim my ear, and something deep inside me cracks into a million little pieces. Curling inward, I try to put myself back together, but it’s no use. With one feather light kiss, he broke me.
“Don’t hide from me, luv,” he whispers. “I won’t deny I want you. You’re beautiful. But it’s more than that. You don’t back down from a fight. You stand up for yourself, for what’s right. And you’re brave as fuck. But I’m terrified I’ll wake up tomorrow morning to find you gone, and I’ll never see you again.”
