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She struggled against him, tears streaming down her cheeks. But he tightened his hold on her. She choked and gurgled.
And to his left …
I shook my head and blinked.
No, it can’t be.
I must be imagining this.
How?
It’s the same mysterious man from the restaurant.
It was surreal. Nothing felt warm or fuzzy or like a happy reunion. Not when Liam had a gun—a real gun pointed at his temple.
And not when he stood in the house looking like death itself.
What was he doing here? And what did they want from Liam?
Before my eyes, my world—simple and insignificant—came crashing down. It became complicated and questionable.
Fragments of happy memories, eating yellow cake, making jokes, and telling stories seemed light-years ago. Like they never happened.
I'd always prepared myself for anything and everything. Easy assignments, difficult exams, and handling hectic schedules at Le Coin Brulet. But I never never thought I'd have to prepare to collide with darkness.
“Why…” The ability to speak failed me. Fear had dried out my mouth and throat and felt like the Sahara Desert. I ran my tongue over my lips and tried again. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from us?”
His deep ocean-blue eyes, which haunted my dreams and my fantasies, looked at me in surprise. They narrowed and then relaxed again before the slightest curve flitted across his lips. The muscles in his jaw ticked and his dark gaze swept down me and back up, sending a shiver down my spine. I didn't know what frightened me more; his beauty or the darkness that followed him.
“You,” was all he said, one hand in his pocket and still pointing the gun at Liam.
But the sound of his deep voice was like a roar of thunder in my ears. His gaze held me captive, reeled me in and yet I was completely intimidated.
His burly frame and looming presence dominated the whole house, and the tension was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.
He stroked the buttons of his black shirt with his long, slender fingers. The silver ring on his little finger gleamed as he faced Liam and asked, “The waitress. Why the fuck is she here? Is she your girlfriend?”
Liam gritted his teeth, refusing to speak.
His finger hovered over the trigger, “I will not ask twice.”
The biting Russian accent was now even more prevalent in his angry tone. I swallowed the lump in my throat. This man was going to shoot.
Liam was as stubborn as I had always known him to be. When his back was against the wall, he went rogue. He glimpsed at me and clenched his jaw. “Go fuck yourself, Rafail! We don't answer to you or any of your—”
“I'm his cousin …” I blurted out.
All eyes were on me. Even Ava stopped fighting and gave me a cautious look. A warning to stay out of it for my own safety. But how was I supposed to do that? Liam's life was in danger.
I stepped forward, close enough to be engulfed by Rafail's scent. Raw masculinity. He smelled expensive, like cigars and musk, and rain on an open field.
It was intoxicating.
“I’m his cousin. That's what you wanted, isn't it? The information.” My eyes held his, challenging and daring. “So, why don't you just go now? Leave us alone—”
I yelped.
He'd latched his hand onto mine and pulled me close. Liam tried to protect me, but Rafail’s men held him. My skin burned and stung where he held me. His hands were big, warm, and firm. I looked up, not bothering to hide my fear.
