Page 9 of The Billionaire Who Saved My Cat From The Mafia

Whatever the reason, the wood is hissing and sputtering and hardly putting out any heat.I’m freezing.I didn’t bring the right clothes for May in the high-elevation mountains.I came up here from Vegas, where it’s already ninety-five in the shade.Besides, it wasn’t like I could put any thought into my wardrobe, seeing that I was running for my life and all.

I can’t believe it was only two nights ago that my world turned to shit.I feel like I’ve aged ten years in that time.But that’s all it’s been—two nights.

I close my eyes, allowing my thoughts to wander back to the series of events that led to me being here.I don’t want to remember any of it.I wish I could forget it all.

I can’t.I never will.

The evening started normally enough.Niko insisted I meet him for dinner at one of his favorite hole-in-the-wall restaurants.He wouldn’t take no for an answer, insisting the way he usually did, his voice all smarmy and sickeningly sweet with a hint of threat.I knew I had no choice.

That’s the way it had been with Niko recently.And it was getting worse with every passing day.He always apologized, saying he had a lot on his mind.But then he’d return to asshole territory the first chance he got.

I was planning to break up with him the next time we had some privacy to talk.It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have at a restaurant.

But about that dinner date… it really bugged me how he made such a big deal about me not being late for our dinner date.He used these words: “If you’re late, things won’t work out in your favor.”What the hell was that supposed to mean?Why did he give a shit about me being late?

This was new.

It should have been a giant red flag, but I met him for dinner anyway.That’s how I became a witness to some kind of gangland murder.And I don’t know what I’m going to do.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I’ve really gotten myself in a shit ton of trouble this time.I used to think I’d already made enough bad decisions about men to last a lifetime.But that was before I met Nikolai Koslov—the absolute worst of all my wrong choices.

He seemed so sweet at first.Sweet and rich.I got sucked in.Spoiled.I liked it.

Right up until I didn’t.

And now here I am, huddled in the dark and cold in the middle of the wilderness, wishing I could stop the images from playing out like a movie in my brain: Throats sliced.Blood everywhere.Screaming.The muffled thud of bullets from silencers.

So much death.

And me, standing out there on the sidewalk watching a real-life Quentin Tarantino scene unfold.If I hadn’t been five minutes late to the party, I would have been a victim instead of a witness to events I shouldneverhave seen.

In an instant, I understood that my life was no longer my own.As I turned to run, I saw Niko being shuttled out of the restaurant’s back exit.He turned his head in time to look my way, and his angry eyes burned into mine.

Whatever his plan was for me that night, I ruined it.

And we are.Me and my cat.In the middle of nowhere.

I scratch Pussy behind her ears and pull her close to my chest, staring up at what I assume is the ceiling of this rat trap.I can’t see a thing.“You doing okay, kid?”I ask her.She answers with a deep rumble-purr.She’s so warm and soft.Such a comfort.

She’s all I have.

If anything were to ever happen to her, I wouldn’t survive.Without her, I’d have nothing.

I drop my lips to her fur and breathe her in.I close my eyes as the rest of the events of two nights before unfold in my memory.Each moment.Each decision.How long each step took.

I run to where I parked and haul ass out of there.I power off my phone almost immediately and throw it into the gutter so I can’t be tracked.When I pull up to my little house—the one I’ve worked so hard to buy—I start counting the seconds aloud.The sound of my voice keeps me from losing it.

I pull into my driveway.

Ten seconds—I’m out of the car and inside the front door.Lights off.

Twenty seconds—I grab the wad of cash I keep stashed in the false bottom of my oatmeal tin and shove the roll in my bra.

Thirty seconds to sixty seconds—I stumble around in the dark, snatch the envelope off the kitchen table almost as an afterthought, and run into my bedroom.

One minute to two minutes—I grab Pussy off the bed, shove her in her carrier, and find her leash, harness, and cat backpack.