Nothing overly disturbing; it wasn’t like I was staring intoher window every night touching myself. But this entire situation was growing tiresome.
She’d been hotel-hopping for almost two months before finally settling in this shithole, probably because she’d found a cash-in-hand job at that sleazy club. The kind of place where the lighting’s dim for a reason, and the customers think a smile is an invitation.
I may or may not have introduced a couple of them to my fists.
Violet’s tantrum:
You’re supposed to forget me.
She really shouldn’t have texted me back. Because now that I knew she still thought of me, I was done waiting.
“I’m bringing her home,” I said, the handlebars of my motorbike squeaking from how tight I held them.
“Is that what she wants?”Roman replied through my headset.“She might just tell you to fuck off.”
“Does it sound like I give a shit?” I looked up at the bungalow through the visor of my helmet. With its broken fences, shattered windows, and general condemned aesthetic, the place looked like it was one strong breeze away from collapsing. Fitting, really. “She has to forgive me eventually.”
Tugging off the helmet, I dragged a hand through my hair as I redirected the call to my phone.
“Depends on how stubborn she is,”Roman drawled.
I paused, considering that.Very,my brain supplied helpfully.Very fucking stubborn.
“Shit.” I shifted the topic before I could dwell on Violet’s particular talent for wilfulness. “You heard from Aeris yet?”
“No.”
“She’s taking her sweet fucking time,” I muttered, swinging my leg over.
The night air was bitter cold, but my irritation burned hotter. The day Violet vanished, I’d called Aeris. I’d been bleeding money ever since, paying her obscene fee to dig up anything she could on the bastards hunting Violet and her mum.
“What about Jürgen?”
“Still no sightings.”
“Fuck. You literally have some of the most dangerous men alive working for you, and you can’t track down one cunting German?”
“Easy for you to say,”Roman shot back.“You’re up in bum-fuck nowhere playing babysitter while the rest of us are cleaning up your mess.”
“It’s not my mess.” Which was technically true.
“This,”Roman said flatly,“is exactly why I’m never settling down.”
“Marriageissettling down, you prick.”
“Ot’yebis’,”he growled, and I couldn’t help the low laugh that slipped out.
????????,essentially meaning‘fuck off,’was definitely the first Russian phrase I’d bothered to memorise, mostly because Roman said it every other sentence. After a few more sharp exchanges, which was our version of affection, I shut off the bike and approached the bungalow.
I’d given Violet long enough.
Patience was one of my many virtues, and yet every second apart scraped at me like sandpaper. I took the steps up to her front door and pulled out my lock-picking kit. I could’ve knocked, sure, but this way, she couldn’t choosenotto let me in. I’d deal with her fury about the break-in after.
The door opened with barely any effort on my part, and I released a sound of disapproval. It shouldn’t be this easy toopen, especially considering people were literally hunting them.
Annoyed, I pushed harder, only to hit something solid.
Then that something moved.
