I should be home by now. Darkness fell an hour ago. But Fleur sprained her ankle this morning, and this order will pay the shop’s bills for months.
Counting the vases in the walk-in cooler one last time, I smile. My fingers ache, as does my back, but creating something so beautiful brings me peace, even today.
Once I sweep the floor and dim the lights, I peer out the front windows. The street is still bustling. I will be safe walking home. At least until the last few blocks. There, the trees hang low over the sidewalks, casting long shadows this time of night.
“I can do this. There is no reason to worry.” All day, I have ignored the fear squeezing my heart. Amelie texted me three times, and I spoke to Mateen an hour ago. He went on and on about the walking tour they took today. The candy shop, the Spanish stories the guide told—only half of which he understood—and the play in a public park at the end. He is safe. And I can be brave.
I stop at the local market for fresh nectarines, a wedge of brie, snap peas, and prosciutto. Walking through the aisles, I cannot escape my nerves. Not even when I pay, when the clerk smiles at me, when I pass by a group of girls Mateen’s age giggling at an ice cream shop.
I turn down my street, keys in hand. Walking quickly, I try not to panic. But by the time I reach my door, I am so very tired—and so tired of being scared—I am crying.
The keys tumble from my hand. Followed by the groceries. A nectarine rolls into the dirt.“Merde!”
I fall to my knees, scrambling for the bruised fruit. A rock slices my palm. The first drop of blood shatters what is left of my sanity. I should get up. Go inside. Lock the door. But I cannot move.
“Lisette,” a man says from the shadows.
With a yelp, I scramble back, my hands in the air. “Do not hurt me!”
“Fuck, sweetheart, I’ll never hurt you again. I promise.” He steps forward slowly, until the light bathes his face—the face I see in my dreams every night—in a gentle glow.
“Nomar.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Nomar
For several seconds,we’re frozen in time, Lisette’s cheeks shimmering with tears, my hands balled into fists, and a small bag of groceries between us.
I should have stayed in the shadows, but the minute she started to cry, I was done for. When I landed last night, I spent an hour wandering the streets around her two-story duplex, familiarizing myself with the blind spots, pinch points, and fastest ways in and out of the neighborhood.
Until I looked up and saw her standing at the patio doors. She was so beautiful, she took my breath away. In that single moment, every choice I made from the moment Pritchard texted me three years ago flashed through my head. If I could take them all back, I would. In a heartbeat.
Move, idiot. Get her inside.
“Lisette, I’m going to help you up, okay?” She peers up at me, fear churning in her eyes. Despite shaving, cutting my hair, and doing my best to scrub months of dirt and blood from my body on the plane, I’m still the Viper. Still more ghost than man.
She nods, and I pluck her keys from the flagstone before I offer her my hand. She stares down at her palm. A thin line of blood wells on her pale skin.
“You’re hurt.” I did this. If I’d knocked on her door last night, this wouldn’t have happened. It’s just a cut, but I can’t take my eyes off the wound. Crouching down, I curl her hand into a fist, then wrap my arm around her waist and help her to her feet.
God, she smells the same. Like shea butter and gardenia, with a hint of rose. For a breath, she wavers, then sinks against me.
So soft. My hand fits perfectly along the curve of her hip. “I’m going to come in with you. Once I know it’s safe, I can leave—”
“Because that is what you do.” She jerks back, fire in her green eyes. “You leave. Always. Ford sent you, yes?”
I nod, unsure how to admit I’ve been here for almost twenty-four hours. She’s so angry. I deserve every harsh word—and more.
“Why even come, if not to stay?” she asks, a tremble in her voice. “Go back to Pakistan, Nomar. I do not want you here.”
“I was going to say, ‘I can leaveif you want.’I fucked up, Lisette. I know that. I didn’t have a choice. At first. And after…”
A fresh tear balances on her lashes. Across the street, a shadow flickers almost out of sight. Fuck.
“Get the bag.” I unlock her door, shove the keys into my jacket pocket, and grab my Beretta. Six steps lead up to the main floor, and I only pause long enough to flip the deadbolt before I sweep through the kitchen, living area, and bathroom. Lisette holds the brown paper bag like it’s a shield, watching me the whole time.
“I have to check upstairs. Don’t move.” I’m being too harsh, but I can’t stop to comfort her until I know we’re safe for the night.
