Page 248 of Vicious Temptation

She hasn’t said much since we left the cemetery, and neither have I. I assumed some of it was due to everything that happened there until I started noticing the same distance I saw in her at the airport.

Whatever has been bothering her since yesterday is still there.

Maybe that’s why we ended up here instead of exploring Miami. Neither of us was in the mood to wander the city or pretend we weren’t distracted, and exhausting ourselves together sounded better than sitting in the penthouse with too much time to think.

She meets my eyes in the mirror and gives me a small smile before turning back to the bag, where she lands another combination.

I’ve given her space because she asked for it without saying the words, but I can’t keep watching her work through something alone while I’m standing ten feet away.

“Fera,” I call out across the room.

She doesn’t hear me over the impact of her gloves on the bag, so I push to my feet and walk over, sliding my arms around her waist from behind.

“Remi.”

She startles, then relaxes against me, her breathing still heavy from the workout.

“Talk to me.”

Turning in my arms, she searches my face instead. “Are you okay?”

Of course, she asks about me. I brush a sweat-slicked strand of hair from her face.

“No, but this isn’t about me. I’ll be okay. My father has been gone for twenty years, and I’ve learned to live with missing him.” I study her face. “You’ve had something on your mind since yesterday. Tell me what it is.”

Her eyes look away from mine. “It’s nothing.”

“Bullshit.” I cradle her face in my hands. “You canceled on me the night before our flight, you’ve barely been yourself since, and whatever happened is still bothering you. Talk to me.”

She watches me for a few seconds, then reaches for the wrap around one hand and slowly unwinds it. “I didn’t want to tell you because the last thing I wanted was to ruin this trip. I knew how important it was.”

My attention drops to her hands. “Tell me what happened.”

“That night, I was at the range with the boys. We were closed, yet somehow two cops got inside.”

“Cops?”

She nods. “From your precinct.”

Every thought of my father disappears. Knowing they could be men I’ve passed in the halls or worked beside makes the whole thing feel suddenly personal.

“What did they want?”

“They claimed someone called to report hearing gunshots.”

“At a shooting range?”

“Exactly. We knew it was bullshit, and we were armed, so I tried to de-escalate.”

I know Remi well enough to hear what she isn’t saying.

“What happened?”

“They drew on us.”

I stare at her in disbelief.

Police officers from my precinct entered her closed business and pointed loaded guns at Remi and her family.