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“Explain. Now.”
“You’ll try to make us stop,” she replies. “But I know him. He’s weak. He’ll be furious when he sees me. I can make him talk. I can bury him.”
My blood does more than go cold. It freezes. I force myself to think past the rage, to put the pieces together. “You’re using Owen to lure Cordero somewhere… to get him to say something incriminating?”
“Owen is helping me. He contacted Cordero, told him he wanted to sell the drive,” Serena replies, talking fast. “Okay? But when he sees me here, it will set him off. I know it will. I know how petty men can be. He’ll try to win… because he has to, because he’s the sort of man who paws at hostesses and uses women for his sick gain. He won’t be able to let me get one up on him.”
I massage my forehead. There’s a chance what she’s saying is true, but I can’t let her put herself at risk like this. God, my worst nightmares are coming true.
“You need to tell me where you are.”
“He’s almost here.”
“Serena!” I growl. “You need to tell me. You’re right. Cordero is fucking insane. If he’s thinking straight, he won’t try anything violent in public. But it sounds like your whole plan is to stop him from thinking straight.”
“I can end this,” she pleads. “You need to trust me.”
“I do trust you,” I tell her fiercely. “I trust you to change me. To grow and flourish and be an incredible mother. I trust you to rock my world. But I can’t trust you to die. Where are you?”
“You’ll stop us.”
“I won’t.”
“You have to promise,” she whispers. “You have to swear you won’t get involved. Unless you have to.”
“I promise!” I yell. “Now, where?”
The second she tells me the name of the diner, I spring to my feet and holler for Anton. “Get Dmitry.”
“He’s here,” Serena whispers down the phone. “You promised, Nikolai! You don’t have to be the hero this time.”
She hangs up, leaving me feeling lost and alone. Anton is already moving toward the door. I go to the desk and grab my gun, check the mag, then take two other mags with me.
In the car, Anton starts the engine and peels away. He stares with the expression I’ve seen on him for almost as long as we’ve known each other, until recently, until Celeste.
“If she makes Cordero angry, he might say fuck it and just start shooting. Even if he’s rolled in with one car and doesn’t have backup.”
“She needs to keep him calm.”
Anton didn’t hear the call. He was probably talking to Dmitry – who’s following us in another car – while I was yelling at her. He probably doesn’t understand that Serena’s entire plan centers on making the arrogant prick furious.
“Boss, what are we doing when we get there?” Anton asks.
I grip my gun hard, a thin layer of sweat pricking on my skin, sticking my shirt to my chest.
Dammit.
I promised her.
“We hang back at first,” I tell him.
He nods. “It’s the right move.”
“Would you be saying the same if it was Celeste in there?” I growl.
“No,” he says flatly. “But it’s still the right move.”
He keeps driving toward the diner, as my mind tortures me with images of Serena suffering like the women at the hotel suffered, like her own friend suffered, like Owen’s sister suffered. If Rafael touches her, even for a moment, he’s a dead man.
