The door handle rattles, and my heart freezes inside my chest. Jackson stiffens, clutching at the loose cami of my pajama top.
Collecting him against me, I slowly rise to my feet and steer my son gently behind me, positioning myself between him and the door as it creaks open.
A tall, slender man steps in, and even in the dim light, I recognize him instantly.
The sharp cheekbones, the slicked-back black hair, the slow, deliberate way his eyes travel over me.
My skin crawls.
“Stephanie,” he says, his voice smooth and unhurried, like we’re old acquaintances meeting by chance. “How wonderful to see you again.”
I plant my feet, my voice low but firm. “You need to let my son go.”
His mouth curves into something that isn’t quite a smile. “I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
He steps farther into the room, his presence filling the cold, dark space.
Jackson presses closer against me, his hands clinging to the fabric of my shirt, but I can feel the slight shift in his weight as he peeks out from around me.
“Hello,” the man says, his eyes darting down to Jackson as his sinister smile widens.
“What do you want from us, Mr. Tanaka?” I demand, doing anything I can think of to remove his attention from my son.
“Oh, please, call me Kenji,” he insists. “I have a feeling we’re going to get to know each othervery well.”
His eyes dart down to take in my thin cami and sleep shorts, his eyes lingering on the points of my nipples that press against the fabric in the cold.
I’m not wearing a bra, and suddenly, I feel far too exposed.
“If you even think about coming closer, I promise you’ll regret it,” I warn, my hands finding Jackson’s arm behind me so I can shield him more thoroughly.
Kenji hums as if my threat amuses him, but he doesn’t step closer. Instead, he leans casually against the door jamb, looking perfectly at ease with my discomfort. “You know, I took something of an interest in you after our little encounter in your shop the other day.”
“If this is your way of asking me out, I think I’ll have to pass,” I snap before I can stop myself.
His eyes narrow for a fraction of a second—as if assessing whether I’m serious or taking a crack at him—before theysmooth over again. “You misunderstand,” he explains, as if I’ve offended him for thinking such a thing. His gaze flicks back to Jackson, then me again. “You see, I know a man who would do anything to keep you and your son safe. And I saw how he reacted to you in your shop the other day. He practically threw himself at you to come to your aid. And that kind of devotion…” He tsks as he pushes off the doorframe and spreads his hands like it’s a fact of nature. “It is very useful to me.”
The blood in my veins feels like ice.
He’s talking about Gio, confirming my worst fears—because if he thinks he can use us as bait, he’s sorely mistaken.
And it might cost me and Jackson our lives when he figures that out.
“You don’t believe Gio will come for you, do you?” he observes, malicious amusement playing across what otherwise might be mistaken for a handsome face.
Kenji steps closer, and my instinct screams at me to shove him back, to keep him away from my son.
But Jackson moves first, stepping out from behind me as he plants himself at my side. His chin is up, his voice steady in a way that startles me. “If Gio knows where we are,” he says, “then you’d better let us go if you want to survive.”
My breath catches. My seven-year-old just threatened a man I’m confident has killed people before.
Kenji laughs—the sound genuine, almost delighted. “Ah, he has spirit. I like that.”
I put a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, easing him back behind me. “You won’t touch him.”
Kenji tilts his head, looking at me like he’s trying to decide whether I’m brave or stupid. “That depends on Gio. Doesn’t it? If he comes for you… perhaps no harm will come to the boy. If he does not…” He trails off, letting the silence finish for him.
Before I can respond, hurried footsteps pound down the stairs outside the door, and another man slips inside the room a moment later.
