Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
“I wish this had happened in happier circumstances,” Joshua says, and I recognize the voice from the club. We’ve only spoken in passing, but still, I’ve met the man. Never anything else, though. “Has Mrs. Shaw seen to your needs?”
“Mr. Joshua!” Mrs. Shaw feigns a protest, and Joshua gives her a kind look.
“I was just checking, Lynn. I’m certain that you took good care of our guest.” Seeing me and Gabriel, he gestures to Mrs. Shaw. “Let us give them a moment.”
Reality settles in as they leave, and Gabriel looks at me sadly. “Are you okay?”
“No.” I sniffle, fighting back tears. “Gabriel, I . . . I can’t . . . I don’t know.”
“Shh,” he says, still sad. “I want you to forget what happened. Don’t ever think about it again.”
His voice sounds like it just dropped ten degrees, and my eyes widen with disbelief. “What? How?” Just forget? How could I possibly just forget?
“Kiersten, I—”
“Gabriel, we need to talk,” Joshua says softly before glancing at me.
Gabriel merely nods and then suggests that I wait for him where I was. I’m slow to take my seat back as they have a hushed conversation. I hear bits of it, and I’m all too aware that I shouldn’t be listening. But I do. No matter what Gabriel says, I’ll never be able to forget.
“I just got a call from Goldman. He’s saying that it’ll take some favors, but he can bury it . . . for now.”
Gabriel nods and looks at Joshua. “For now?”
“His advice, and I quote, is to not poke at the wound. Let it heal with time . . . maybe.”
GABRIEL
The Past, December
The dining room at Paul’s Steakhouse is too quiet, with all eyes on me apart from the constant tapping of my thumb on the white-clothed table. The anxiousness that rides through me is very much warranted. Of course, that’s usually the case, but this time they’re being more surreptitious, more hidden. But I’m a student of behavior, and the more they consciously avert their eyes, the more that I know they’re thinking about me.
The question I have is, are they sharks circling the prey, sensing blood in the water? Or are they vultures, looking to swoop in on my already dead carcass?
Because I’m not dead yet. I’m not going down without a fight. Because if I go down . . . they’ll come after Kiersten.
“Gabriel.”
I clear my throat and look across the table at Joshua, whose brow arches with concern. “I noticed that we’re the center of attention. Not exactly wanted today.”
“I suppose not.” The adrenaline hasn’t waned. My hands nearly tremble knowing what we’re here for. I’ve done a number of selfish, greedy . . . even cruel things in my life. But I’ve never killed someone. I’ve never gotten away with murder before . . . and I’m not certain I will now.
While I have enough connections to have Ivan’s death left open down at police headquarters without my arrest, that doesn’t mean that I’m free and clear. The last thing I want to do is call in a favor. I’d rather handle this as quietly as possible. Rumors will spread. Sacrifices will be made. Which is why I’m meeting with Joshua.
He has connections I don’t. Connections that are difficult to come by.
“They all think it was a business deal gone wrong,” Joshua says, chuckling darkly. “I suppose that’s actually helpful to you, isn’t it?”
“In a way,” I admit. “It’s a secret that stays with us, Joshua. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” Joshua says. “Honestly, the assumption is good for both of us. I’ve been able to burnish my reputation as a fixer, and you . . . well, I assume that your friends across the pond will have heard the whispers. You’ll use that to your advantage?”
“In some ways,” I admit. “But it’s not all to my advantage.”
Of course it isn’t. I called in a lot of favors to get my new UK passport, and my sudden ‘cousin’ who needs my presence to take care of them in their permanent illness is hardly authentic.
But it doesn’t matter. I will rebuild. It’s only a matter of how much I’ll have to tear down first. It’s been three days. The auction has come and gone, but Ivan’s threat and the fact that someone else may be involved haven’t escaped me.
There is only one way to protect her when we still don’t have the name of the threat that lingers.
“What about Kiersten?” Joshua asks me, and my throat tightens. “What are you going to do with her?”
I swallow, knowing that I hate what I’m about to say. It’s torn my soul apart for the past thirty-six hours, knowing that as much as I need Kiersten, as much as I love her . . . I can’t have her.
My being in her life would ruin things for her. It very well may get her killed. It’s likely. “Until we know who Ivan’s contact was, until I know every threat and how all of this will play out, she needs to be safe.”