"Can you drop me and the girls off at my friend Larry's?" I say calmly, a little proud my voice isn't quivering. "Poppy and Jack know nothing about him, other than he works with me. He just moved, in fact. No one's going to find him."
The son of a bitch doesn't even look up from his phone as his thumbs move at lightning speed. "I told you I would keep you safe, and I will. Dropping you off at a buddy's house in the Meatpacking District is not an option."
"Wait, how doyouknow where Larry lives?" I say accusingly. Rose and Iris seem far too happy about this, eagerly looking back and forth between Roman and me like they're playing a fierce round ofAssassin's Creed.
He turns around, meeting my gaze, a slow grin curling his lips. "You already know I did averythorough background check on you Violet. Adeepdive."
My traitorous sisters giggle in a high-pitched tone more suited to a Japanese anime. "Okay –" I pinch the brow of my nose, trying to stem my spreading headache. "This is ridiculous. I'll rent a car and take us out of town."
"You're missing the point." Roman cuts me off. "If I could find you with a cursory search, Jack and whoever was involved tonight can find you just as easily. I won't repeat myself."
Oh, this bossy asshole…
"Then where are you taking us?" I snap.
He grins again, winking at my sisters and they giggle. Again. "I'm taking you to my place."
Why do I feel like I just jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire, dragging my two innocent sisters with me?
***
Roman's place is nothing like what I expected. I've been picturing one of those glittering glass towers, like in the Hudson Yard billion-dollar development. Tall, terrifying,and impersonal, maybe a penthouse filled with black-and-white furniture and deep gray walls. Modern and extremely uncomfortable. Instead, the SUV turns down Commerce Street in the West Village.
"You livehere?" I ask incredulously, looking at the tall, beautiful Federal-style houses. The SUV manages a sharp left into a narrow driveway and black iron gates close behind us.
"I do," Roman says, opening our car door for us. "There's a great strip club right around the corner." The girls file out, smothering their grins as I glare at him. "Be honest," he murmurs in my ear as he helps me out of the car. "You thought I was going to be some bachelor asshole with a penthouse, right? Maybe expecting a stripper pole in my living room?"
Stiffening, I give him a haughty glare. "That's not what I was thinking at all."
That's exactly what I'd been thinking.
"I was just concerned about my sister's safety."
He has the nerve to laugh in my face, his arms on either side of me, not quite pinning me against the SUV. "Of course you were." Bending his elbows, he leans closer until his chest is just a hairs-breath from mine and whispers, "I can hardly wait to show you my bedroom and see if it's everything you thought it would be."
Wedging one hand between us, I push him back - oh, hischest, nothing should feel this hard and sculpted - and slide under his arm. "This is in no way increasing my confidence in having my sisters here."
Roman laughs again, brushing his dark hair back and I catch a smear of blood on his gray shirt sleeve, a dull rust that stillglimmers under the street light. There's more blood; I see it now, underneath his fingernails and caked in his calluses.
"I thought you said you didn't kill him?" I whisper furiously, grabbing his arm. His muscles tense, and the swell of his huge bicep is extremely distracting so I yank my hand away.
"I didn't." He sounds genuinely regretful. "I did pull one of his eyes out, though." He says this casually, as if informing me that he just ordered dim sum for a late dinner.
"You what?" I wheeze. Fortunately, Ivan already escorted the girls away from us and into the house. We're alone in the dark driveway. The street is shockingly quiet, just the muted sound of traffic, the rustling of the trees and a quick burst of music as someone opens their car door down the street.
"Do you want me to lie to you at this critical juncture?" Roman asks, putting his bloody hand in his pocket.
Too late, pal. I've seen it and I can't unsee it now.
"No," I say, putting an awkward hand on my hip and swallowing hard, my dry throat making a clicky noise. "I just thought it would be a quick thing. The job. Jack is the job."
"I should've taken him to another location," Roman says a little crossly. "I knew he'd break under pressure like a little bitch so I thought I had time to question him there and do the job. Unfortunately, we were interrupted by a hail of bullets."
"Is there any chance that he got killed in the gunfire?" I say hopefully.
"I used him as a human shield, but unfortunately, he was still flopping around like a hooked trout when I stole his car and got out of there," he says, "which makes me more inclined to think they were there to protect him."
"Wait, hold up." I can't stop the huge grin spreading across my face. "You stole Jack's godawful pussy wagon of a Jaguar?"
