“Yes.I never doubted you,” Keisha said.“Mikalai constant presence confirms it.He’s Dmitri’s scout and someone Sergei used to worked for..”
“So tattoo guy was a bad guy?”Tiana’s eyebrows shot up.“Plot twist.”
Keisha almost smiled.“Complicated.”
“Got it.”Tiana leaned back, too old for sixteen.
They reached Sergei’s shop, parking in the alley.Keisha’s tremor worsened, teeth chattering.Fifteen minutes, maybe, before a seizure.“Inside,” she told Tiana, fumbling her seatbelt.
“You’re not okay,” Tiana said, hand steadying hers.“You’re sick.”
“I’m okay,” Keisha denied.“Stress triggers my anxiety.I’m handling it.”
“Barely.”Tiana’s voice softened, sharp.“Let people help.”
Sergei appeared at the back door, scanning the alley.Relief flashed, then guardedness.
He nodded to Tiana.“Both of you inside.I’ll hide the car.”
Tiana grabbed Keisha’s hand, stronger than she looked.“Come on, social worker.Let someone else take the wheel.”
Keisha wanted to fight.Her independence wasn’t negotiable.But Miguel needed her.Files in her office needed securing.Her body faltered.
“Hey,” she told Sergei, pressing keys into his palm.Their fingers brushed, sparking heat.“We need Miguel before they know Tiana’s gone.”
Sergei’s eyes widened, respect flickering.“You’re going back out there?With Mikalai hunting?”
“Not want.Need.”Keisha stood, shaky but firm, pulling from Tiana.“These kids are mine to protect.”
He nodded, pocketing the keys.“I will call in a favor.He will remain safe.”
For Tiana, for Miguel, Keisha would take Sergei’s help.Just this once.
Chapter 4
Sergei rubbed his eyelidsas he tried to shake off his drowsiness.He checked his burner phone.Four hours of sleep.He rolled his neck, counted knives: one under the pillow, one in his boot, one strapped to his thigh.He craved these quiet moments, before Keisha’s face slipped past his defenses.
