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And I have nowhere to run.
“Shit!” I hiss, swiping all of the papers back into the bin and sliding it back under the desk. Whoever it is, I don’t want them to see any sign that someone is in the apartment.
I consider making a run for the bedroom. There’s a fire escape on the back of the building, but I’m not sure if I can even get to it.
“If there ever is a fire in this place, I’d probably die in a fall through those rusted-out stairs,” Noelle said once, after the building’s fire alarm went off in the middle of the night. “If I could even get the window open. It’s been painted shut since I moved in.”
I snatch Noelle’s craft scissors from the desk drawer in case I need to chip the paint away. I take one single step towards the bedroom when there is a final, resounding knock.
But it isn’t just a knock.
It’s an apocalypse.
The entire door snaps off the hinges and falls into the entryway with an ear-splittingboom.As the dust settles, I drop to my knees and scramble back under the desk. Noelle’s apartment is one square living space with an adjoining kitchen, but I’m in the corner closest to the door. Which means I haven’t seen whoever broke down the door and they haven’t seen me.
I pray it stays that way.
I slink back under the desk, hoping the shadows are enough to keep me hidden. Maybe if the intruders move to the bedroom, I can haul ass through the front door.
Then again, if it’s the Albanians, they will have brought plenty of backup. So maybe I’ll hide in the closet with the trash chute at the end of the hall. Then, when I’m sure they’re gone, I’ll come out.
Plans and backup plans and backup-to-the-backup plans formulate in my mind. I’m prepared to use the lamp next to the couch as a weapon, if need be. I can scream and try to wake the neighbors. Maybe the intruders aren’t with the Albanians after all, and they’ll be spooked by a crazed woman shrieking at the top of her lungs.
But the moment I see him step into the living room, all that dissolves like smoke.
I don’t breathe. I don’t move. I’m rooted to the floor, frozen in place with shock and confusion.
His confident footsteps move closer. A knee plants itself on the hardwood floor in front of me. A smell I remember. Smoke and mint and musk. A shadow. A bulk. A presence.
Before I can even decide if I need to scream, Timofey grabs me by the hair.
2
PIPER
I bite back a scream and struggle to my feet.
“I thought I might find you here,” he growls. He shifts his hand from my hair to my neck. His fingers bite into my skin, and I can feel the pressure building in my head.
I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to quiet the thrumming in my ears so I can think. “What are you doing here?”
“You stole my question, Piper. But that’s not the only thing you stole, is it?”
I try to turn and look at him, but he forces my head down, keeping me in submission. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
A frustrated growl rumbles through his chest. Then he shoves me forward, and I catch myself on the arm of the couch. Air whooshes out of my lungs.
“It’s simple. Sit down and I’ll explain it.”
Every word out of his mouth is gritted between clenched teeth. When I shift into a seated position and can actually look at his face, it is so twisted with fury that I almost don’t recognize him.
But those eyes… I’ll never be able to forget those.
It’s there in the familiar depths of his eyes that I catch a glimmer of the man I know. I reach out for him. Forthatman—not the one yelling at me, but the one who saved me in a dark alley. The one who opened the door of that panic room with his heart in his throat, desperate to know if I was safe. That’s the man I reach for. That’s the man I need.
“Timofey,” I breathe, “I know you’re upset with me for walking out the way I did. I was—I was angry with you, but I shouldn’t have left. We both said things we didn’t mean, and I think we can—”
“Can what? Make up?” His eyebrows furrow. “Maybe we’ll hold hands and let the past be the past. Is that what you want?”
