He didn’t look like he believed me. “So where did you get it?”
I blanched, not able to explain without dropping myself in it for so much more. “I borrowed it.”
He lifted his eyebrow accusingly.
“Ro, can you trust me?”
His laugh was loud, punctuating the air. “No. Not anymore.”
Those words hurt more than I expected, and I winced as if he’d cut me.
“What do you expect, Hana? None of this makes sense. Who the fuck are you, and what are you caught up in that has someone shooting at you? Was this about Tony?” He said his name with fondness, as if he’d known my brother, but that was impossible. Maybe I was just swept up with someone saying Tony’s name out loud after all these years.
“I told you that you didn’t know me,” I snapped.
“And wow, did you mean it.” He waved his hand in the air between us. “This, you, this…” he pointed to the gun, “none of this ismyHana.”
I scoffed. “I was neveryours, Roman.” My voice had gone up a couple of octaves, my disbelief audible, although I liked the idea of being his more than I wanted to admit, but I was terrified of how much losing it would hurt.
Roman opened his mouth just as his phone vibrated on the table. He answered it. “Wren… yeah… can you send me the address? Do we know who it’s registered to? Right…. Not sure. Like I said, it was to help out a friend. I’ll get some more details and be in touch if I need anything else, but it won’t be tonight. You and Lev, get some sleep… No, don’t mention this to them. It’s not work-related, and I’m not going to do anything stupid like go there. My brain hasn’t recovered from the last time.”
I tried not to react to his conversation, distracting myself by easing the ties out of my hair and untangling the braids that were making my head hurt more than his disappointment inme was. He hung up. “The phone was bought by a man named Marvin Rosales. You know him?” I thought about the name to see if it rang any bells, but it didn’t sound familiar.
“No.”
“He’s married, got a wife, three kids. He also rented the Airbnb in Scotland, where they traced the texts from.”
“Oh,” I said, slightly disappointed, because this didn’t fit the narrative I was expecting.
“And he doesn’t exist.”
My eyes widened. “What?”
Roman turned in his seat, folding his arms over his chest, his biceps popping. “He doesn’t exist. Someone has gone to a hell of a lot of trouble to make him up, but he’s not real. He’s a proxy, a cover for someone else, but give us some time, and we’ll get to the bottom of it.”
The room spun as I tried to make sense of his words.
“Hana?” Roman’s large hand on my thigh brought me back to the room. “What’s going on?”
I pinched my nose. Where did I even start? It was late, I was exhausted, and I needed time to think of a better story than the truth because the truth was fucked up.
“Can we get some sleep and talk in the morning? I feel like this might all make more sense with fresh eyes.”
He glanced at his watch. “Yeah, point me in the direction of the spare room.”
I chewed my lip before replying, “One bed, I’m afraid.”
He huffed, and I hated that he wasn’t leaping at the idea of sharing a bed with me. “I’ll take the sofa,” he replied.
“And run off in the night. No way.”
“So, you’re kidnapping me… holding me hostage?” He closed down his laptop before standing, looming over my chair. I loved this side of him—angry, domineering, sexy as hell—and my panties dampened at the idea of him flinging me over hisshoulder, dragging me to the bedroom and fucking my secrets out of me.
“You’re too old to kidnap,” I retorted, hoping my cheeks weren’t as red as they felt from my wayward thoughts.
“Hana, this is fucked up. I’m so confused right now. I can speak to my boss, get us some help if you’re really in trouble, but you can’t just keep me here and not tell me why.”
“If I promise to tell you everything in the morning, can we just sleep?”
