Series: Penny Dee
Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97669 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
She frowns. “I could swear it was you.”
I force a smile even as my lungs tighten. “I guess I just have one of those faces.”
“But…”
“Enjoy your evening.”
I don’t wait for her to finish. I push through the bathroom door and only hesitate for a moment as my gaze lingers on the table, where Silas waits as he signs the bill.
This was a mistake.
I slip past a couple as I keep walking toward the exit. My heels strike the marble too fast, breath coming shallow now, adrenaline surging so violently through me I can barely feel my hands.
Outside, I walk faster.
Then I run.
Because my past has just caught up with me, and the only thing I can focus on now is surviving.
35
LEONORE
My hands won’t stop shaking as I rush through my apartment, pulling open drawers and stuffing their contents into the overnight bag.
I have to get out of here.
I move to the hallway, yank open the closet, and grab the black canvas bag I have stashed there for this very reason.
I haven’t opened it in two years, but I know exactly what’s inside. A thick wad of cash. A passport with a new name. A prepaid credit card. A gun that will blow a hole the size of Utah in anyone who tries to hurt me.
This is the same bag I used to escape my previous life. The one I fled into the night with six years ago. I’m immediately driven back into that former version of myself, my hands shaking as that part of me that is equally psychotic to defend herself knows when it’s time to run. I’ve seen monsters before, and I refuse to face them again.
Not this one.
I set both bags by the front door, then pause to look around.
My apartment is sparse. It’s how I’ve lived for the past six years. Because when you’re running from something, you learn not to accumulate things. You don’t buy furniture or things that can’t be abandoned without a second thought.
My phone buzzes on the kitchen counter, and Silas’s name lights up the screen. I stare at it until it stops, my hand sliding over the island counter top where I’d first explored his body thoroughly. I look over at the couch and then the wall he’d fucked me against. His ghost lingers, but it has to remain as that. I got too comfortable. I forgot to stay in the shadows, and now I’ll pay for it.
I check the bedroom one last time to make certain I’m not leaving anything behind that will tell him where I’m going.
Not Silas.
The man who wants me dead.
My dead husband’s brother.
The phone buzzes again.
I know it’s Silas, but I ignore it.
I don’t have the luxury of whatever it is I was exploring with him. Or the energy to explain to him that being involved with me could earn him a bullet between his eyes.
By the time he comes looking for an explanation, I will be long gone.
Because the woman at the restaurant was right.
We have met.
Her name is Irina and her husband is Grigory Skylanoff. An associate of the Lomonov Bratva. I met them at a gala only a few weeks before I fled California. And I know she’ll remember me. It might take her a day or two. But she will. She’ll be lying in bed or doing her makeup, and then, out of nowhere, she will remember the last time she saw me. I was Antonia Lomonov then. Wife of Viktor Lomonov. Pakhan of the Lomonov Bratva.
But Viktor Lomonov is dead now.
Because I killed him.
36
SILAS
Iget to her apartment a few minutes after she does and park across the road. I see her lock her car and race toward the stairs front door.
For a moment, I don’t move. I sit in the darkness and scan the street, searching for movement or anything out of place. My gaze slides from each parked car, then to the entrance of her apartment. Then to the windows of the apartment next door. Everything is well lit, but there are still plenty of dark places for something sinister to hide.
Something spooked her tonight. Although I’ve become accustomed to her eccentric ways, I’ve never seen her run from anything.
I wait and watch.
Nothing moves.
But that doesn’t mean nothing is there.
It would appear my little raven, no matter how psychotic, sassy, and clever, is scared of something.
I step out of the car, button my jacket, and cross the street, ready to pull my gun at any second if need be.
I take the stairs two at a time, and when I reach her door, I knock.
“Leonore.” I keep my voice even. I saw the fear on her face when she fled the restaurant, which she most likely thought I hadn’t noticed. The thing is, I always notice where she is. In every room, my gaze naturally finds her. “Open the door.”