Three separate locks disengage, and the petite woman with straight blond hair peers into the alley. “You’re alone?”
“Yes. Can I come in for five minutes? I can’t stay. Had a little run in with my former employers a couple of hours ago.”
“Yes. Yes, come.” Nora steps back into the light and cradles her arm gently.
“Did he hurt you?” My question comes out harsher than I intend, and the woman shrinks back against her sink. “Dammit. I’m sorry. I…I should have been faster. AIVD will have him in custody by 9:00 a.m. tomorrow, and he’ll never bother you or the girls again.”
Nora angles a glance up the stairs. The two teenagers—from her first marriage—had to witness their stepfather’s abuse on more than one occasion, but thank God he never laid a hand on them.
With a wince, I drop to one knee and start digging through the backpack for my oilskin bag. Waterproof, practically indestructible, it’s the only place I trust for my most important paperwork.
Unzipping the pouch, I spread the contents over Nora’s counter. Three new passports and a prepaid credit card. “You said he refused to return your passports when you separated? Well, these are all completely legit, ready for you to move back to England—if you want.”
“How did you get these?” Nora asks. “You didn’t break into his house, did you?”
“No.” Chuckling, I ease myself down onto one of her kitchen chairs and finally, blissfully, remove the tight wool cap over my purple-streaked hair. “Just made friends with a guy in the passport office and had him reissue them.”
“And the bank card?” Nora reaches for the plastic rectangle, and her sweater rides up. Fingertip bruises surround her wrist, and I wish I’d been able to confront the jerk myself.
Despite her hesitancy, Nora manages that “mom” stare with ease, and my heart aches. No one’s looked at me like that for as long as I can remember. I had a mom once. I think. But hell if I can call up her face. Her voice. Anything about her.
“That’s linked to the account I gave you when you hired me. I’m waiving my fee. It’s all there. Every one of the ten thousand euros you paid me. That should be enough for you and the girls to make a fresh start. AIVD is probably going to want to interview you once they arrest Sem. So keep that hidden somewhere safe until he’s sentenced. But after? Behappy, Nora. You deserve it.”
Tears tumble down Nora’s cheeks, and she reaches out like she wants to hug me, but I don’t do touch. Not like that. “Gotta go. Just promise me you’ll take care of the girls and…I don’t know…” I back toward her door and grin. “Do something fun. I hear dying your hair can really change your whole personality.” Tucking a lock of bright purple behind my ear, I give her a little wave before I slip out into the night.
The exhaustion makes every step feel like I’m walking through wet sand, but I can’t rest. Not until I’ve put at least two hundred kilometers between me and François’s men—including my brother. I don’t know how they tracked me, but once I’ve found a new safe house, I need to find out.
My life could have ended tonight, and while I’ve lived with the constant threat of capture, torture, and death for almost four years, I’m not ready to die. Not until I find the only other person in the world with evidence against the Strauss Cartel.
And stop them from hurting anyone else, ever again.
* * *
Ronan
Rapping four times on Dax’s door, I glance around Second Sight’s offices. The halls are quiet three days before Thanksgiving. Marjorie hung lights in the break room, and every day this week, baskets of pumpkin muffins have appeared next to the coffee machine.
“Come in, Ronan,” Dax calls.
I’ll never get used to the emptiness of Dax’s space. All the other offices have at leastsomekind of personal touch. A photograph, a plant…even Ella keeps aTotoroplush toy next to her monitor and she’s about the least sentimental person I’ve ever met.
Dax? Nothing.
Closing the door behind me, I try to control my heart rate. My boss is the most observant man on the planet, despite being mostly blind, and showing fear? That’s not going to help me. As soon as I take a seat in one of his visitor chairs, my palms turn clammy, and I rub them on my thighs.
“Are you expecting a firing squad?” he asks, staring right at me.
How does hedothat?
“Maybe.”
His dry laugh isn’t reassuring in the least. Skimming his fingers over the top of the desk, he finds a beige envelope and holds it out to me. “Your bonus check.”
Bonus check?
“Since when did you start givin’ out bonuses?” I don’t open the thing. Not with the way he’s looking at me. Like he can see right through me.
“Always have. Once we promote someone from junior investigator to full associate.”
