My mouth drops open. For a second I’m not sure if he’s serious—then he winks.
Relief bubbles up through the lingering ache in my chest, and I laugh, the tension from earlier easing a fraction. “Good to know. Wouldn’t want to accidentally wander into the wrong closet.”
“I have an apartment I stay in a lot. It’s here in the city. It’s close to the clubs which is convenient for late nights. I have a house north of the city, near my cousin’s place. It’s pretty… lots of trees.”
“Two places?” I tease, poking his arm. Then I snort, remembering his flimsy excuse about needing a job, even though my heart flips over in my chest remembering why he lied. “More expenses?”
He smirks. I roll my eyes.
“The house might be too far though for you to commute every day to Elite,” he adds, voice thoughtful.
My mind flashes back to what happened at Elite, the hurt still raw in my chest.
He glances over. “Or we could find a new place together. Something central. Whatever you want to do.”
I chew my lip, staring at the dashboard. “I’m not sure I want to work there anymore.”
“Don’t make any hasty decisions.”
I arch a brow at him. “Like getting married to a mobster I’ve only known for a couple of weeks?”
He grins. “Yeah, like that.”
I laugh, but it’s short-lived. Exhaustion crashes over me like a wave. “Let’s go to my apartment. It’s close. We can decide tomorrow. I’m wiped.”
At my door, I punch in the code and turn the handle.
The door swings open, and I freeze.
My apartment is trashed.
Drawers are yanked out the contents strewn across the floor. My few plants have been dumped out, and my books are covered in soil, and papers are scattered like confetti. The couch cushions are slashed, stuffing spilling out in clumps. Kitchen cabinets hang open, most of the dishes shattered on the tile floor.
My heart slams against my ribs. “What the?—”
Liev drops his bag, pushes me behind him, and draws his gun from his waistband. “Stay here.”
He moves slowly through the space, scanning the room. I follow a step behind anyway, ignoring the order, my own weapon pointed down and ready. The bedroom’s a disaster—mattress flipped, the clothing from my closet covering the floor, and my jewelry box upended on the dresser. Nothing obvious is missing. The TV is still mounted on the wall, and my few decent pieces of jewelry are on the floor.
Liev checks the bathroom and the closets. “Clear. No one’s here.”
I sink onto the edge of the bedframe, knees suddenly weak. “How? This building’s secure. Doorman, alarms—Brady set it all up after... after Aaron. No one should be able to get in.” My voice cracks on the last word. “I guess I should call the police.”
He crouches in front of me, warm hands settling on my knees. “No need. I’ll have the security footage pulled. Because you’re right, the average thief couldn’t have gotten in here. We need to call Brady, too.”
I hesitate. “After what he said? I don’t?—”
“He needs to know.” Liev’s voice is gentle but firm. “This could be connected to Vegas, to the Taggerts. He has resources that could help.”
I exhale. He’s right. I dial Brady.
He picks up on the second ring. “Sera? Look, about earlier?—”
“Someone broke into my apartment. It’s ransacked.”
“What?” His voice sharpens instantly. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just pissed.”
