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It was so much colder here than I was used to, but other than the bite of the wind on my face, I didn’t feel pain.
When it seemed as though my pursuers had actually gone past the street I was on, Iallowed myself to slow, breaths heaving. Fuck, I need to get back to training. Glancing behind me to make sure I wasn’t being followed, I pinched the stabbing pain in my side while attempting to slow my breathing.
My face collided with a solid chest, and my arms went up in defense. Big hands grabbed for me. Blue Eyes snarled when I leapt out of his reach. I’d been stupid to think Romero’s enemies hadn’t followed me.
But if they knew where I was, that must mean he did too.
If he was even alive.
“Come on, girl, I don’t want to hurt you. There’s someone that wants to see you.” He pulled the knife from his jacket pocket again and I laughed bitterly.
“Thought you didn’t want to hurt me.”
His handsome face looked resigned more than anything before he dove for me. I spun, getting him behind me, and looped my purse strap around his neck. Twisting it so it couldn’t easily be dislodged, I kicked the insole of his knee, forcing him down. He clawed at the noose, trying to shake me off. My pulse roared in my ears, and rage fueled me, forcing my grip tighter.
Like a bull, he writhed and bucked on the cement, tossing me with him, but unable to get the air he so desperately needed. After several moments, his body began to slacken.
I clambered to my feet, body shaking from adrenaline. Fortunately, there had been no one to witness what I’d done, and before that changed I took off again on shaky limbs.
A few blocks later, I brought out my phone and checked the map, finding that the coffee shop I needed was only a block over. When I arrived, I slowed to a casual walking pace, trying to smooth my wild hair. I knew I looked a mess. Scanning the people, I found a brunette girl that was roughly my age, in a pale pink sweater like she’d said. A mug of coffee was held in one hand, and with the other, she looked down at her phone screen—likely noting that I was now ten minutes late.
I strode over to her, running a hand over my sweater, and hoping that my bloodied knee didn’t draw too much attention. She looked up before I reached the table, and her full, red lips quirked to one side. Her skin was richly dark with eyes that sparkled in the dim fluorescent lighting.
She was absolutely stunning in that movie-star way.
“Bernadette,” she greeted, like we were old friends.
I nodded in acknowledgement.
She gestured to the chair before me, and I dropped into it with a deep, steadying breath. Asingle manicured brow lifted in question.
“I don’t seem to be blending in as well as I’d hoped,” I offered by way of explanation, smiling to cover my nervousness.
She smirked, sliding a manilla envelope across the table. “Maybe this will help.”
From my purse I brought out a cream-colored sachet thick with bills and handed it to her. She giggled.
“Check the product before paying, silly,” she said.
I frowned. “Aren’t you worried I’ll just run off without paying?”
She took a long sip of her coffee, amusement still visible in her gaze—but it was colder, more calculating. “Trust me, you wouldn’t get far.”
I blinked, not sure why I felt surprised. Romero was a crime lord and purchasing documents for a fake name was high up on the list of crimes you could commit. He had people. She had people. That was how one protected their less-than-savory dealings.
I opened the envelope, spying the birth certificate that made me twenty-one instead of eighteen, as well as a passport and social security card. My brows lifted.
“They look so real,” I whispered.
She snorted. “That’s because they are. Welcome to life, Bernadette. You’re a real person now.”
My mouth went dry as I shoved the documents back inside and pushed the money toward her. She didn’t bother counting it. Instead, she leaned back and said, “You look like you need coffee. And food.”
I gave a dry laugh. “Yeah, but I have to get back. It’s time to pack up and move to the next place.”
She inclined her head in understanding. “The building is protected.” At my disbelieving look, she said, “I own it.”
I shook my head, then leaned forward to whisper, “How? You can’t be more than a year or two older than me.”
