Seven years ago. St. Louis, MO.
“Karina?”
She jumped at the sound of my voice, dropping her purse on the ground, the contents spreading across the floor like wildfire. “Shit,” she breathed, avoiding my eyes and dropping to the floor. I knelt beside her, grabbing up her things.
“Sorry,” I said, meaning it for once. She nodded, tucking a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, still avoiding my eyes.
“Hey, are you alright?” I asked, standing up with her as she tucked a journal into her bag.
She kept her head down, pretending to be interested in her fucking feet. “Uh, yeah, sorry. Have a good day, Collin.”
She turned to walk away from me, the heels of her boots clicking across the lobby floor. I looked up to make sure I was in the right building. Metropolitan Square. Mr. Matthews sent me here this afternoon on an errand.
So why was my angel here?
“Karina,” I called after her, jogging up to stand in front of her before she got through the front doors. She ducked her head again.
“What is it, Collin?"
“Stop saying my full name,” I bit off. Ever since she gave me my nickname, I wanted to hear nothing else fall from those lips. “Look at me,” I demanded, shoving my hands inside of my jeans. I wanted to touch her. I always wanted to touch her.
It was annoying, but fuck me, I was drawn to her.
The only reason I was even going to school was to get information on Dean Connors.
He was the new star player for the Chicago Cubs, Mr. Romano’s shiny new toy. However, Dean Connors was a recluse. He didn’t come out of his high-rise apartment unless it was for baseball, so recruiting him had been difficult. Evenhis managers had tried to get him to come out to one of Mr. Matthews' parties.
When that didn’t work, they sent me in to get close to his ex-girlfriend, but we had to keep Connors away. We sent him threats, and he listened, dropped Gwen Davenport like she was nothing and focused on baseball.
“What do you want?” Karina asked, her voice shaking.
“I want to see your eyes.”
After a moment, she gave me what I wanted, and I was floored. A new kind of fury boiled up inside me, one I needed to unleash. I stared at the brand-new bruise on her cheek, the skin on the outside still red. “Who did this to you?” I growled, stepping closer to her. She flinched. I was seeing too much red to care.
“No one. Don’t worry about it,” she stammered.
“Karina.”
Angel…tell me who hurt you.
I held my tongue, withholding her nickname.
The one I gave her. Mine and mine alone.
She was Kay to everyone but me. “Tell me now.”
“Col, please,” she whimpered, her bottom lip trembling as tears formed in her eyes. I wanted to touch her; fuck, it was need that ran so deep, but I couldn’t. I had other shit to do, people to kill, and yet, here I was, standing in the middle of a lobby concerned about this girl’s tears.
What the actual fuck?
My jaw tightened. I needed to kill someone. I hadn’t killed anyone since I was in Chicago last month.
“Give me a name,” I harshly whispered.
“Col, I can’t. He'll kill me,” she cried before running out of the building.
Present Day. Collin's mansion.
