Page 93 of Every Last Breath

4:40 a.m. EDT

No air. Tightness around her throat. A chilling darkness rushed up.

Maddox jackknifed awake, clutching her chest, raking in shaky breaths. She was alive. Safe. Her racing heartbeat steadied.

She looked at the television in her living room. An infomercial for an omelet maker. She must’ve fallen asleep on the sofa, dreading a cold, empty bed.

Cole had been so impassioned last night. Almost convinced her. She wanted to believe him. Believe in his love. Trust he wanted to stay, for her, with her. Could they really have a second chance?

It terrified her to hope. One thing about him hadn’t changed—he was still an all or nothing sort of man. He would press and knead until she gave him everything. If she opened up, fully gave herself to him, and lost him again, would she be able to recover?

No sense dwelling on it. She glanced at her smartwatch. 4:45. Time for a quick run, nothing lengthy, and then she’d hit the Gray Box. If their assumptions were right, this was probably their last day to find and stop Novak.

The Ghost wasn’t going to make it easy. If anything, he’d up his game. Big time.

She turned off the TV and got dressed. Lacing up her sneakers, she couldn’t get Cole out of her mind. The sex had been better than she remembered. Red hot.

Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around?

Time erased any negatives, sharpening the memory of the good to a ridiculous standard. So when you slept with your presumed-dead ex, you were disappointed.

Except their connection had been seamless, like they’d been one again. Raw, primal, off-the-charts good. Probably the lust-induced hormones muddling her mind.

At least they’d cleared the air. She knew about his dark exploits in Alaska, and he knew about their baby. If they didn’t have any secrets, learned to forgive, maybe a future was possible.

* * *

Vienna, Virginia

5:15 a.m. EDT

Aleksander received Val’s text.

Agent K on a run with a dog.

According to the information in the dossier, she jogged every day. Clockwork, predictable. Not even 6:00 a.m., and she was out on a run.

Aleksander jumped atop the railing of the lower-level patio. The duffel bag on his back rustled like tissue paper crumpling. He hopped, grasping the second-story wrought iron balusters, and hoisted himself up.

His arm muscles didn’t shake, not a quiver. A twinge tickled the bicep Kinkade had stabbed. He’d taken pharmaceutical-grade painkillers to mute the biting ache, along with amphetamines. The theft had garnered him enough medicine to propel him through tomorrow when this would be finished.

He landed on her balcony with a harsh crunching underfoot. A layer of pea gravel covered the floor. The loud sound would’ve alerted her to his presence. If she’d been home.

Clever, Kinkade.

The lock on the sliding door was a keyless double bolt system. Speed bump.

He was prepared for such hiccups. Using the glass cutter, he set to work. In two minutes, he squeezed his hand through the small hole and unlocked the door. He yanked open the slider and dipped inside. Silencing the light clatter of the vertical blinds, he locked the door. He spread a thin layer of odorless Loctite glue around the edges of the hole and replaced the cut glass. With the blinds concealing evidence of the breach, she wouldn’t notice unless she came close enough for inspection.

There had been no mention of her owning a dog in the single sheet of information. If the canine was hers, Aleksander was ready. He set three poisoned doggie treats behind the club chair. In the event a pooch didn’t go for the planted bait, he had more in his pocket wrapped in cotton pads. Delicious smelling, quick-acting, and potent.

Light as air, he crept into the bedroom. Her bed was perfectly made as if she hadn’t slept in it, drawers to her bureau half open. Yesterday’s clothing scattered on the floor.

He tucked the duffel bag away under the bed, dropped down into push-up formation, and squeezed out a steady fifty.

Moving up into cobra pose, he stretched in the yoga position, keeping his shoulders low and away from his ears. Downward facing dog. He pushed through his hands, elongating his spine and legs. Vertebrae popped. He held the pose, breathing, focusing.

Then he relaxed on the floor and slid underneath the bed.