Page 16

She’s alone in the room for the first time. My gun is on the counter, my belt on the table, and the exit is locked. If she leaves now, she’s without food or money or protection. That matters.

So I strip naked and turn on the shower, leaving the door open. She watches, unabashed, and I don’t give her my full back. If she wants to look, she can. I’ve got nothing to hide that she hasn’t already noticed.

“You work out.” It’s flat and clinical.

“Aye.” I shrug. “Not much else to do in prison.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. I don’t want her to know anything else about me yet, anything more than what’s mapped out on my skin.

The hot water feels fucking good. I couldn’t imagine a luxury like a shower this big, with shampoo and conditioner and one of those waterfall showerheads, when I was in prison. I groan when the hot water sluices down my body, rinsing off the filth of the night.

When I turn, suds slide down my face and burn my eyes. I blink, rinsing, regretting that I have my eyes off her for half a minute.

But when I can blink and see clearly again, she’s slouched against the cushions. Asleep?

The food will be here any minute, so I turn off the shower and reach for a towel. The poor lass is asleep on the couch, still in the too-big black dress, her head lolling to the side. I look around for a blanket to cover her when a knock at the door sounds. She startles awake and blinks at me. I’m wearing nothing but a towel slung about my waist.

“Good job,” I tell O’Sullivan, taking two grocery bags from him. “Hang on.”

I walk to my trousers and reach into the pocket for my wallet, but it isn’t there.

I spin around to face her. “Did you take my wallet?”

She stares at me and shakes her head. “How would I do that?”

“I had it right here, and now it’s gone.” I’ll punish her for that. I left her for ten goddamn minutes. How did she get it? How did I miss that? Where the hell did she put it?

“I’ll send you money,” I tell O’Sullivan.

I shut the door behind him with a click, then turn to face her.

“Where is it?”

“I told you,” she says, shaking her head, red splotches coloring her cheeks. “I didn’t take it.”

I stalk over to her. Fire burns in my veins. They stole from me in prison, and I fucking hate when people steal from me. “It was in my pocket, and now it’s gone. How the fuck did you get it?”

“Where the hell am I going to put your wallet?” She gestures to herself.

But I can tell by the way her eyes shift that she’s lying. Of course she is. I had my wallet right there.

I stalk closer to her. “You’re not going to lie to me, Valentina.”

It’s the first time I’ve used her name. Shock registers across her face before she can school her features.

“You really do know who I am.”

“Aye. Now tell me the truth. I told you what will happen if you don’t.”

“I’m not lying.”

The hell she isn’t.

“Stand up.”

“I didn't touch it.”

“Stand. Up.”