by Krista Holt
He reaches out to touch me, and I flinch. He freezes, and his hand drops back to his side as if it’s made of lead, disgust twisting his face.
“I won’t hurt you, Reagan. I can’t stand you being afraid of me.”
I shake my head, forcing back the tears that are threatening to spill. “It doesn’t matter.” This can’t happen again. I won’t allow him to play on my emotions anymore. He did this to me twice. I won’t let him do it again. “It was all a lie, Nic. You used me, and I was stupid enough to let you, that’s it.”
He grabs me this time, grasping my upper arms. “Nothing. Nothing. About us was a lie. I couldn’t tell you everything, but don’t do this. You going in there—it’s just going to complicate things further. I’m trying to keep you out of it, so let me handle this. I need you to trust me.”
“Trust you? Trust you?” I explode, hitting his chest again. “I don’t even know who the hell you are!”
He takes a step back but only to give him enough space to grab my hands, yanking me to his chest. “I’m trying to protect you! You know what I am now, some of what I’ve done, but you have to trust me. I’m trying to keep you safe. It’s already dangerous enough for you.”
“You’re the most dangerous thing that has ever happened to me.” I wrestle against him. “I wish I’d never met you!”
Pain momentarily flashes across his face before he shuts down, dropping my hands as if I’ve burned him. “I’m not going to stop you,” he says, his voice thick. “But if I’ve ever done anything right with you, if there’s any part of you that still believes in me and what I was to you, I’m asking you not to go in there.” His mouth hardens into a firm line, as his eyes search my face. “You’re taking your life into your hands if you do. The choice is yours. I’ll do whatever I have to do to protect you, but going in there, talking to them, you’re putting a target on your back. Do you think I’m the only one that watches you? That knows where you go?”
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m trying to warn you.”
He pulls his hand out of his coat pocket. The bracelet he gave me slides out of his gloved hand, until he holds the end, the rest dangling in the air. He offers it to me. I don’t reach for it.
Sighing, he takes my hand and places it in my palm, closing my fingers over the strand of gold and diamonds.
“One week, Reagan. Give me that. Give me time to protect you.”
He turns his back on me and takes the stairs quickly, only stopping when he reaches the Mercedes. Opening the door, he looks back, studying me before disappearing into the interior.
I watch him drive away, trying to wrap my mind around his words. It doesn’t make any sense.
Why didn’t he stop me?
Did he think I wouldn’t go through with it?
Why was he talking in riddles?
* * *
Hours pass. The sun sinks away, and the city turns gray as the streetlights flicker on. The marble is hard beneath me, but I’m numb to it.
“You must be Reagan Cooper.” Polished black dress shoes stop on the step above me.
I look up and find a red-haired man in a tan overcoat standing over me. “Please tell me you aren’t a member of the Mob. I’m not in the mood to be kidnapped again.”
A small smile cracks his face. “I’m Agent O’Neil with the Organized Crime Task Force.” He bends his body to sit down beside me. “We had an appointment.”
My head turns back to the deserted street. “We did.”
“Care to tell me why you’re out here?”
“I’m contemplating my life expectancy.”
His shoulders rattle with a soundless chuckle. “Sorry. That’s not funny.”
“No, it’s not. What’s hilarious is how I got myself into this mess.” I sigh. “I was so stupid.”
He stays silent, regarding me intently.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve talked to someone like you,” I find myself saying. “Look how well that worked out.”
“What?” He tenses. “You’ve reported this guy before?”
I pause, and Simmons’s warning repeats in my mind. Don’t talk to anyone but me. Don’t trust anyone. You never know who’s in his pocket. “No, not really.” I lie. “I got cold feet. Like now.” I look down at my shoes, surrounded by snow.
His green eyes narrow shrewdly.
“I can’t do this.” I shake my head. “I don’t know why. It goes against every rational part of my brain, but I can’t.”
“Reagan,” he says calmly. “Can I be honest with you?”
“No one has ever offered that to me right off the bat before.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, but it’s gone quickly. “I’ve talked with your coworker, and from what he told us, we’ll never get Selvaggio on a kidnapping charge. He wasn’t there when it happened. You guys don’t know who the other guys are. If we arrest him and drag him before a judge, he’ll spin some lie about how he walked into a hostage situation unaware, and he’ll be out of jail and acquitted within twenty-four hours.”
“So it’s impossible?”
“I don’t like that word, but the man is practically untouchable. The only way we get him is if he flips on himself.”
“When has that ever happened?”
“A time or two back in the 80s.”
“So my best bet is to keep my mouth shut.”
“For now, yes,” he agrees. “Unless something changes.”
“Great.” I want to cry.
Everything is falling apart, and I’m running out of options. The silence stretches between us. Fog thickens on the street in front of us, hiding the few remaining vehicles parked there.
“Do you know his father?” I turn my head toward him.
“Not personally,” he says after a pause. “But he’s not a nice guy.”
“I didn’t think you could be, and be in that line of work.”
“You might be surprised. Some of them have consciences.”
Sure they do. I stand slowly. “I should go.”
He stands too, reaching out to steady me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m perfect,” I lie again.
“If you change your mind,” he pauses, bringing my gaze up, “here is my contact information.” He presents me with a card. “If you feel your safety is at risk, call me, no matter what. No strings attached. I will do what I can.”
“Thank you.” It seems like the right thing to say. He’s offering help, and I’m appreciative, even if it doesn’t fix anything.
He releases my arm. “It’ll all work out eventually.”
I want to take him at his word. I want to believe it, but I can’t. Too much has happened.
“I guess time will tell.” I navigate the icy steps carefully.
I flag down a cab at the curb and get in
“Where to?” The cabbie watches me in the rearview mirror.
“Arlington. I’ll give you the address when we get closer.”
He drives off, steering us toward a sea of brake lights.
I squeeze my hands into fists in my lap, staring straight ahead, ignoring the looming sense of utter desperation building in my chest. Because I know, this isn’t going to get better.
If anything, it’s going to get worse.
CHAPTER 44
Nic
I sit in the car, anxiously waiting for the phone in my hand to ring. It seems like an eternity before it does.
“What happened?”
“She left, Nic,” Garrett answers. “It’s fine. For now.”
My back hits the leather seat, and I breathe shallowly, feeling like the wind was just knocked out of me.
“Do you think she’s figured it out?” he asks. “Do you think she knows what you’re doing?”
“I’m not sure. If she hasn’t, it won’t take her much longer to piece all of this together.” I glance in the rearview mirror, checking for something. Anything.
“Either way, I can’t wait any longer. We have to mo
ve now.”
He pauses. “You’re certain? This isn’t something I can stop once it gets going. You need to be completely sure.”
“Yeah. I am.”
“All right.” He takes a deep breath, crackling the line between us. “Get ready.”
Here’s hoping I don’t get us all killed.
Dear Reader,
As you might have guessed, Reagan and Nic’s story isn’t over yet. The second book, Savagely, will be published in 2017. If you follow me on social media, you’ll be the first to know about its release date. Plus, you’ll get to see covers, teasers, and excerpts before anyone else.
Follow me here:
Facebook
Twitter
GoodReads
That said, thank you for reading this far! As a new author, I’m extremely grateful for each and every one of you who stopped scrolling, bought this book, and read it. Please leave a review on your purchasing retailer’s site. It helps other readers find a book you loved. Thank you again for your support.
Write soon,
Krista Holt