“Wait.” His hand wraps around my wrist, stopping me. “Take my jacket. It’s freezing out.”
“Oh.” I’m stunned as I wait for him to return, still naked, with the suit jacket I previously had on. He drapes it over my shoulders, and it’s as ridiculously large on me as it was the first time I wore it. “Thank you.”
I straighten my lips, not allowing the tears to gather in my eyes, and strut to the elevator. It’s silly, really. Why would such a simple gesture have such an impact on me?
I’m out of the building before I know it. Running away is an exercise my feet know all too well.
A luxury black SUV awaits me, a car too similar to the one I got here in for it to be a coincidence. I wrap the jacket around myself tighter, swallow my nerves and enter the car. There are no rideshare identifications visible, but that’s what I expected.
“Your address?” the driver asks, and I detect a hint of an accent, similar to the accent of the man I just had sex with. His facial angles are sharp under a mop of dark hair. His large hands squeeze the steering wheel, and I realize I’m staring.
“Umm, yeah…” I recite the address for him and buckle my seatbelt.
The car glides through the dark and vacant streets as I nibble on my bottom lip nervously. Eventually, he pulls to a stop. “Thanks for the ride,” I say tersely and exit the car.
He drives away, and I release a relieved breath. A different woman would probably be terrified to be alone on the streets at this time of the night, seven blocks from her apartment. I clutch my purse and pick up my pace. Unease blooms in my stomach,but it’s far less debilitating than what I would feel giving away my actual address.
I reach the door of the building in record time. It’s not until I enter the apartment, locking the door behind me, that the knot in my belly loosens, never fully unraveling.
No, safety is not a feeling I fully remember. But I’ve learned to live with the fear. To stick it deep into far-off corners of my mind and pretend it doesn’t exist.
I drop my shoes at the door and take off the suit jacket. My fingers trace the expensive fabric, and I lift it up to my nose.Fuck, he smells good.
Shaking my head, I hang the jacket in the hallway. It’s a futile attempt at tidying up because my clothes are strewn all around the living room. Sophie’s apartment is pretty minimalistic, but I’ve left my mark, placing a few of my knick-knacks. The two picture frames I carry wherever I travel adorn the TV, and I’ve placed crystals for protection, luck and clarity strategically throughout the apartment. It’s something I’ve done for years, and it helps me feel like there’s an extra layer of safety around me, one I so desperately need. Still, Sophie will kill me when she sees what her place looks like.
If she ever comes back.
Nope. Not going there. She’ll be back. She left me a note. Sophie is my best friend and my cousin, but we have so much more in common than just our flawed genes. We both have a ton of trauma we’re working through, each of us doing the best we can.
I never thought she could hurt herself.
My throat constricts at the thought.
She told me she was okay.
And she would’ve left her dog with me if she had planned to hurt herself.
She would also never leave her place this suddenly, so something must be going on. I’ve searched everywhere once I realized she wasn’t answering my calls or texts. Nothing I’ve tried broughtme any closer to the truth. Her last location visible on the Find My Phone App was this one, and her phone has been offline since then. I’ve visited the restaurants she used to order her food from, and the grocery store she shopped at. I’ve tried retracing her steps and talked with every shop owner in the vicinity of her apartment. I’ve even visited the vet she used to take her dog to, and I’ve found nothing. Nothing except the note she left me, right here in the apartment. That note is the only clue I have and that is what I should focus on, not sex with hot, mysterious guys. No matter how good the sex was.
CHAPTER 5
Leon
Taking a night off last night means I have more shit to deal with today, but I guess it’s not a surprise.
We’re searching for Luka, trying to track the Russians to figure out the best way of destroy them, and dealing with our regular work, including everything Luka used to do.
“You need to do a drop-off today,” Dom says as soon as I enter my office, and I let out a load groan.
It’s my actual office, one three stories below the casino, not the sparkly one above I use to schmooze rich people in.
“Can’t Ivan go?” He is Luka’s right-hand man, and he picked up most of his work after Luka went missing.
“He’s asking for you or Luka specifically.”
Another groan, this time internal. “Fine, I’ll go. What else is up? Why did I receive a million texts last night?”
He hesitates for a second. “Ivan caught a Russian lackey.”
