Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84901 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
LACH: Ok. V Day.
Inside the building, I finished my chat with Dr. Ghannam and picked up my ringing phone as I passed by high-tech gadgets on the way to the laboratory’s exit, when a call came through.
With the scientists busy, I quickly answered. Mistake of my life. “What is it, Junior?”
“Do not call me that.”
I rolled my eyes. He let me call him Vass, but refused the American “Junior,” insisting on the Russian patronymic ending in -ievich. Yet he couldn’t stand Pop. Go figure. I still called him Boobie, so there was that. “Forgive me, Vassilievich, my Boobie. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”
“Can I just check on my sis?”
“No. Because you’d convince me to visit you at UCSD. I wind up at a frat party, playing beer pong with my young brother, who shouldn’t be—”
“Hey,” Vassilievich barked, his slight Russian accent thickening, “I’m not that young.”
“Nineteen is too young. Then you vanish with some random hoe, and I rush away before your frat bros get handsy.”
“Who did what?” Vassilievich growled.
I let myself out of the laboratory. “Don’t worry. Apparently, the sight of my Shadow sobers grown men.”
I leaned against the wall, eyes on the dome safety mirror on the ceiling fixed where the hallways crossed. It helped nurses avoid collisions—but it also hid security cameras. This past Sunday, after my apology for the racist comment, Pop and I made a pinkie promise. I begged him to fire my Shadow. He’d agreed. Yet somehow, I still felt eyes on me.
Enzo, dressed in fatigues and a black Henley, appeared in the reflection, strolling down the hall. “Gotta go,” I muttered while my baby brother barked out a request for names. Hanging up, I pressed my back against Dr. Ghannam’s laboratory again, not wanting the pressure or temptation. Blind, I reached for the knob. It didn’t turn.
Lorenzo turned the corner, thick brow lifted. “Natasha?”
Hmmm, where’s his Italian accent? Maybe he was surprised too? “Hey …” I grinned, my breasts sticking out more than usual with my body plastered against the door. The knob gave no slack. Ugh. I started an idiot wave when Lorenzo pulled me into a hug.
“Hey, buddy …” I said again, patting his back.
“Don’t make this awkward,” he replied, all smooth and Italian.
Okay, it was there. And beautiful. He thumbed a lock of my hair in his hand, and that boldness that made me chomp my teeth at him in the elevator never came. I inhaled his intoxicating cologne. A blink transported me to Rome. Lemon notes infused with verbena.
“Don’t flirt.” I flitted a hand, stopping him from playing with my hair.
“I’m hungry. You hungry?”
“No.” Well … It was lunchtime … I’d never missed a meal, except for fasts.
“C’mon, Natasha. I respect you. You’re monogamous.”
The emphasis on you’re seemed to question Lachlan. “Sure am. A one-guy type of girl.” Smile plastic, I meandered toward the elevator.
“Okay, lunch in the hospital cafeteria. My cousin got used to it. So I did too. Besides, nothing scandalous happens in a hospital cafeteria.” His voice teased, but tension rested at his mouth, his muscled shoulders, as he waited for my response. That whole attempt to seem relaxed made me wonder if thoughts distracted him. And his intense stare added to the unease building in my chest.
“Which room is Rain in?” I tilted my head. “Grab yourself and her something, I’ll meet you there, see if your cousin’s up for a hello.”
“Not possible.”
M’kay?
A palpable sadness washed over his face. “She’s dead.”
9
LORENZO
“She’s dead.” The vein in my throat pulsed. A usual occurrence when I sighted a tango in the scope of my rifle.
Natasha Resnova was practically a nun. Not making this easy on us in the slightest. She wanted me. This.
“Rain … died?” she stuttered. Shock rippled through her as we stopped near the elevator. My chest tightened. That same shock rushed through me. My brain worked in mysterious ways, came up with crap. And I rolled with it. I had worried she’d ask the hospital staff about Rain. Obviously, she hadn’t. Good. She trusts me.
As I nodded, her shock faded, and sadness followed, as if she mourned any person—friend or stranger—who didn’t stick it to cancer.
Too trusting. Exactly what I needed.
I stepped closer, maintaining a vigil on every angle. Where was that bodyguard with the super white-blond hair and rectangular face? “Yes.” My voice lowered, deep, gruff, the pain of losing my mama—the only hurt I ever knew—gave the moment a genuine touch. “Three years ago. In between missions, I-I’d come to the hospital.”
“But with a unicorn?”
“Yep. Still drag that stupid unicorn here. Same one I should’ve given her long ago.” I fisted my hands into my eyes and let out an explosive breath. C’mon, stupid tears! Nope. Didn’t work. “Sounds like I’m crazy?”
“No.”
“So, me and Unicorn, we sit in the lobby as if we’re waiting for her to exit chemo.”