After eighteen years.
She didn’t call. Didn’t email. Just came without warning.
And she was attacked.
Attacked.
No matter what happened between us, I would never,everwant that.
Memories fly at me in jagged, painful shards.
Her eyes, the color of the forest at sunrise, green brushed with shades of gold.
Her smile, slow to appear, but when it did, it was brilliant.
Her hair blowing back from her face as we rode the ferry to the Statue of Liberty, catching hints of copper and bronze as the sun hit it.
Then the betrayal.
The hurt.
The disappointment.
And finally, acceptance.
But now.
She came back.
Why?
A police officer gestures for me to stop as I get close to the scene. Not twenty feet past him, two paramedics are wheeling a stretcher out from between two buildings. A small figure is strapped to it, a fall of dark hair spilling off the side.
Sofia?
“You can’t go any further,” the officer says. “You need to stand back.”
But I need to see her. I need to know if it’s really Sofia.
“I know her,” I reply tersely. “The woman who was attacked. I know her.”
The officer narrows his eyes in suspicion. “And you are?”
“Nico Parisi.” My gaze moves past him to follow the two paramedics wheeling the woman—is it Sofia?—towards the waiting ambulance. Jerking my attention back to the officer, I lift my chin and add, “Owner of Fox & Falcon Securities. Sofia is a close friend. I need to see her.”
Before he can respond, I slide a business card from my pocket and hold it out to him. He takes the card and scans it quickly, his eyes widening in recognition.
“Shit,” he says. “Fox & Falcon. I’ve heard of you guys. You say you’re the owner?”
The paramedics are loading the stretcher into the ambulance. Which means if this guy doesn’t hurry up and let me through, I’m going to miss my chance to see her.
“Yes,” I reply. “I’m the owner. Now. I understand this isn’t SOP, but could you please let me through? Just to see her for a second?”
“You guys hiring?” he asks. “My wife’s been at me to do something less dangerous. Something with a more regular schedule.”
My molars nearly shatter; my jaw clenches so hard. “Why don’t you send in a resume,” I offer, though I have zero interest in job recruitment right now. “I can’t make any promises, but I’ll take a look at it.”
The officer nods. “Great.” He pockets the card and then jerks his head in the direction of the ambulance. “Better hurry before they leave.”
