Page 75 of Cozen

Cozen paced the length of the living room in her small apartment. It wasn’t a very big space, but gave enough room to move. When her mind was racing, all she wanted to do was let her restless legs walk it out.

Since someone seemed to be following her—Sargon, she now knew for sure—her options were limited. She didn’t want anyone to see her in something they might consider a state to report back. She didn’t need to give anyone any inkling that something was wrong with her.

Even if everything was wrong with her.

Well, not everything, no. Just a small part in the grand scheme of things. That small part, however, was a big complication for Cozen.

That part being Sargon.

She slowed in her pacing just long enough to watch early morning sunlight filter in through the crack in the curtains. Specks of dust danced in the yellow stream, and for a moment, took her attention away from her chaotic thoughts.

It didn’t last long.

It couldn’t.

The morning light only served to remind her that she had just gotten home an hour before. A single hour before the sun rose in the sky. And why was that?

Because she spent the night with a man she had no business spending the night with. Fucking in the backseat of a car, and then dancing in a club. Coffee at a little shop down the street, and then a quick breakfast at a small, tucked away diner in Little Odessa.

Before she even realized how much time had passed, Sargon was the one who told her that he needed to get back to his place. He said goodbye with a kiss.

To her forehead.

A sweet, loving kiss.

This game was becoming dangerous. Far too dangerous, really.

Sargon had become a giant complication in Cozen’s plans. Probably without meaning to, she knew. He had—without barely trying at all—taken her entirely off her game when it came to this goddamn job. Instead of focusing on getting closer to Jett, she was dreaming about a man with a Persian bloodline. Where she should have been getting Jett to trust her, she was looking for the dark eyes she knew would be watching her.

She was seeking Sargon out.

Already, she wanted him again.

To see him again.

To fuck him again.

Anything.

It wasn’t like Cozen to get emotionally or physically invested in something—or someone, rather—during a job. She went in, did what she needed to do with a clear, clean conscience, and came back out successful.

Always.

Or … that’s how it normally went.

That’s how it should have went!

Frustrated, Cozen tossed herself into the pile of blankets and pillows in the middle of the living room. She still refused to buy a bed

Cozen settled herself on the things she knew for sure.

One—the job was the job, and it was all that mattered until it was done. She was going to have to do whatever she needed to fucking do to get this job done, and be successful. It didn’t matter; the job was number one.

Two—she needed to screw her head back on straight, so to speak. Fucking Sargon once should have been enough, but apparently she needed a second go. The second time was nothing more than a mistake. She couldn’t afford more of those. It was too dangerous. For her, and for her stupid heart that liked to play tricks on her.

Three—she didn’t have time for anything else but getting this job done. No time to entertain the feelings she had for Sargon, or the way he kept drawing her in like a moth to the flame. She didn’t have time to play games anymore.

No time.