If I don’t, this will happen again. Today, the monster inside me almost won. In fact, had those women not rounded that corner, had I not heard their voices, I would have killed that man. And likely been caught.
Briefly, I consider the pharmacist—maybe finishing that job would take the edge off. But I can’t rush it—it needs to look like an accident. And to make that happen requires more recon. Recon I can’t imagine doing at a moment like this. Besides, the memory of Brian beside that woman, her long legs climbing from the car, the way his hand brushed her back—no. It wouldn’t be enough. It wouldn’t fix the situation.
Today, I almost ruined everything, and for what? To take an innocent life.
Gran would be pissed.
Chapter Twenty-Two
LATER THAT NIGHT, I canstill barely believe I let the monster inside make her way to theoutside. That reality is only sharpened when Piper calls a few minutes after I tuck the girls into bed, saying, “One of my employees saw you out running. She said you werefast, determined.” Piper hiccups a laugh. “What’s next, a marathon?”
I go cold, pausing as I sort through Brian’s desk. So far, everything I’ve found screams management consultant, a.k.a. boring, which quite frankly pisses me off. Or maybe heisa management consultant, but he consults for criminals or drug lords or something.
“Earth to Nadia.”
“Yeah, I like to run on the trails sometimes,” I say blandly.I can’t do that again. Maybe I’ll run on a nice track, or down a busy road, or literally anywhere I can’t kill someone in broad daylight.
“Well, anyway, I wanted to discuss Mom and Dad’s anniversary party. Is now a good time? They’ll be back from their trip soon. We should ask Mom what kind of food she prefers.”
I sigh. It’s not that I’m opposed to helping with theanniversary party—it’s that as an events planner, I’m supposed to be good at things like this. But I’m not.
A knock on the door—thebackdoor—makes me jump, reach to the waistline of my pants for a gun, which of course is not there, because while I may own many guns, they are kept safe from the hands of my children.
“Nadia?” Piper’s voice rises in annoyance.
“Hold on.” I duck down to remove myself from the line of fire. Who the hell knocks on a back door?
Wait, theyknocked. A shooter wouldn’t knock. I step out of Brian’s office and peer around the edge of the kitchen counter, heart thumping wildly in my chest. I do have a gun hidden in the kitchen—any killer worth her salt would—but when I peer through the sliding glass door, it’s a familiar face that stares back at me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just—I have to go. Let’s talk about this tomorrow?” I’m on my feet, striding across the living room, one brow raised in a question as I unlock the door and let him in.
“Fine. But I’m thinking a beach theme.”
“Sure,” I say, because of course a party should have a theme, and thank god my sister knows that. I end the call, toss my phone on the couch, and spin, hands on my hips.
“What are you doing here?” Ian has never come to my house before. Our time together has always been separate from my family’s life. It feels strange, and I rub my arms, thinking a drink sounds good.
Ian gives an enigmatic smile. “You asked if I was available to talk.”
My forehead creases in confusion, then I remember sending him a message when I was at Graham’s. “Yeah, I was thinking like a phone call.”
“Well, the job is done, and I’m back in town, biding time until another job in a day or two.” He lifts his hands in a partial shrug, then peers around. “Nice place. Love the high ceilings, the open concept.”
“You’re an interior designer now?”
He strolls into the room, taking in his surroundings as though fascinated. Which is fair. I’d do the same thing in his home. “You’re in a mood,” he murmurs.
“Ian, you came to myhouse. How do you even know where I live?” More words are on the tip of my tongue; I’m ready to chew him out for crossing this boundary. We don’t dopersonal.
But then I think about nearly killing that runner earlier, nearly gettingcaught. About the Big Job I’msupposedto do. I’m on edge, at the precipice of a downward spiral where the monster emerges and I end up behind prison bars. And suddenly, I’m grateful he’s here. That my only friend I can truly be honest with is standing in front of me, and that he came when I called—even if I was thinking more along the lines of a few texts or a quick phone chat.
“Never mind. I’m having a drink. Want one?”
“Sure. Kids asleep?”
“Yes.” And for once, I hope Eliza doesn’t wake up and come downstairs for “a glass of water,” which is really code for extra snuggle time with Mom, reminiscent of the days before she had a little sister.
