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He avoids looking me in the eye while swiping the back of his hand across his forehead. “If I choose option two, how do I know you won’t double cross me later on?”
He doesn’t. He has absolutely no guarantee I won’t screw him over. All he’ll have is my word, and even though it’s not worth shit to him, I’ll honor it with everything I am. With every memory I hold sacred. Every sacrifice I’ve ever made. I’ve worn both masks: the one blindly being deceived as well as the one unremorsefully delivering betrayal, and the latter, while shredding my heart, cut my final tie to the past.
As long as he keeps his promise, I’ll keep mine.
“Carl, I’ve fought on both sides of this war. Believe me when I say I’m done with your kind of justice. I’m going home.”
* * *
The wind blowsmy hair in a circle around my face and I shiver. People rush all around me with their briefcases and long winter coats, and here I stand in the same tank top and tiny shorts I had on when the Feds tackled me to the floor of that dirty hangar yesterday. I’ve lived in Florida my whole life and never been allowed outside state lines. A harsh winter meant a slight dip into the high sixties. I have no idea how people live in a place that requires so many layers of clothing.
It’s funny; the only thing I’ve ever wanted was to leave Miami, and the moment I do, the only thing I want is to go back.
At least I have Niko’s leather jacket to keep me warm. That was my one non-negotiable stipulation with Dunning. It’s not that I wanted Niko’s jacket back. It’s that I neededit.
“Miss Chernova.”
I glance up to see a man, not much older than myself, dressed impeccably in a black suit, perfectly tailored to fit the well-toned muscles underneath. A lean physique that’s hidden just enough to be discreet but visible enough to make anyone think twice about fucking with him. His face is clean shaven and unsmiling. There’s a hard edge to him that’s unsettling yet familiar.
And he’s calling my name.
“I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“I have instructions to take you to Turner Field,” he says, opening the door to the backseat of the limo. He’s agitated, uncomfortable in a way that tells me he’d just as soon pull out a gun and shoot me in the face than continue this façade.
“From who?”
“I’d prefer if we spoke privately in the car.”
“I’d prefer if you fucked off. If you think I’m getting in the car with some stranger after the week I’ve had, you seriously need your head checked.”
His face darkens. “I’m not a stranger, Ava. Nikolai’s my friend, and unfortunately, I know more about you than you’ll ever—”
“It’s fine, Dagger.”
I know that voice.
The guy dips his chin, cutting a heated glare toward me before circling the limo and disappearing in the driver’s seat. When I’m standing alone, the voice calls out again, this time all trace of patience gone.
“Get in the damn car, Ava.”
I don’t think. If I think, I’ll run, and I have no doubt within thirty seconds I’ll be forced into the limo anyway. Pulling Niko’s jacket around me, I cross to the side of the road and climb in the backseat. The man sitting across from me is also impeccably dressed, but older and definitely wiser. He exudes power. A man who wants for nothing and takes everything.
I dip my chin. “Arthur.”
“I take it everything went as planned?”
“It did. Thanks for the gun, by the way. X is definitely efficient.”
“You know, it’s too bad I don’t employ women. You have a set of balls as big as any of my men.” He swirls a short glass of amber liquid in his hand before taking a sip.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Don’t. Most of the Cavalieri wouldn’t dare call me unprompted, much less to ask me for favors. You’re lucky you’re still breathing.” He says the word favors as if it’s offensive.
It probably is.
I shrug. “I had nothing to lose. Ethan was going to kill me anyway. If I was going to die, what did it matter whose hand held the gun?”
