Page 5

Margot

I rush out of the café, determined to catch him. At first, I don’t see him, but then... there! About fifty feet away, turning down an alley.

I quicken my pace and follow him.

This alley looks sketchy as hell. What is a man like him doing sneaking around back here?

He takes another turn behind the building. I follow.

I’m about to shout his name. Should I call him Matthias or Mr. Montclair? But then I hear him talking.

He’s still on the phone. Maybe I should wait for him to finish. It must be important if he canceled his coffee order. It takes a lot for me to give up coffee… like doing a good deed… for a sexy man .

“Spare me the details of the torture. I trust your methods. Did he tell you what he was selling? New blow?” That smooth, sexy voice graces me again.

I’m getting goose bumps just hearing it.

My body’s visceral reaction to this man is ridiculous.

I haven’t even seen his face. For all I know, he could have a face only a mother could love.

Doubtful . There’s no way this voice and ass belong to a man who isn’t attractive.

I can hear his confidence in his voice. Only a sexy man sounds like that.

I need to see the face that matches that voice.

Then his words register.

I freeze midstride.

Excuse me, what did he just say?

I don’t even have time to process it before he speaks again.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘he doesn’t know’? He’s obviously lying. Threaten to cut his tongue out if he doesn’t start using it to tell the truth.”

My breath catches, and I start rethinking my decision to follow a stranger into a dark alleyway where no one from the street can hear or see us. The theme song for Dumb Ways to Die starts playing in my head. Not the time for this, Margot.

“Are you sure it’s not drugs? I don’t want that shit killing people in our city.”

Oh my God. This is bad. This is really bad.

Should I report this? What even is the protocol when you accidentally eavesdrop on crime? Not just any crime, torture .

I try to weigh my options. Do I stay and listen so I can file a report? Do I sneak away before I become the next cautionary tale?

I really like my tongue. I would very much like to keep it. I need it to talk. To narrate my audiobooks. To sing. Even though my voice is horrid, my shower concerts bring me great happiness. Losing my tongue would be a tragedy.

“Fuck. Are you going to kill him, or let him crawl back to Viktor with a message?”

My stomach plummets .

Is this premediated murder? Oh my God, I need to call the cops. They can save this guy, whoever he is, from this Roman guy’s torture… and intent to murder. Is that what it’s called? I don’t know the legal jargon!

“Fine. If any more come into our territory, we need to know if it’s shoot-on-sight or bring them in for questioning. Keep me updated.”

I back up. Slowly. Quietly. I don’t turn my back on this man. I want to be ready if he attacks me. Not that there’s much I could do against this god of a man. His suit can’t hide his muscular build–

CRASH!

Time slows.

It takes me a second too long to realize I was the one who made the noise.

Oh my God. I backed into a dumpster. Oh my actual God. Of all the fucking times to be clumsy.

I look up, right into his eyes.

Before I can even blink, he’s on me.

I gasp as my back slams into the brick wall. His arms cage me in, one on either side of my head. He’s crouched just enough to be eye level with me.

“Who are you?”

His voice sounds even harsher than it did a few seconds ago, and he sounded pretty damn scary then.

But I’m not paying attention. Not to his tone, not to his words. Because, holy shit, his eyes.

Light brown, flecked with gold. They’re mesmerizing. And his lashes, they’re thick, dark, and ridiculously long.

Not fair.

He lets out a grunt of annoyance. Which draws my gaze to his mouth. His full, pink lips. I bet they’re soft. My tongue darts out, wetting mine. I start to lean forward, needing to feel them .

“Who are you?” He repeats, his voice sharp as a knife.

I freeze mid-lean.

Oh, right. The part where he might kill me. That’s where we are right now.

My cheeks start blazing. Definitely out of fear. Not embarrassment from being caught ogling him. Sure, and also not from being held up by such a hot man.

My inner tramp needs to calm the hell down.

“Hello?” He gives me a little shake.

That does it. I blink, snapping back to reality.

“I’m Margot.” I blurt before I can think better of it. Great. Give the potential murderer your name. Brilliant.

He exhales sharply. “Okay, Margot. Why were you following me?”

I fumble in my pocket, pull out his credit card, and hold it up.

“Oh! You forgot your card at the coffee shop, so I was bringing it to you. It was my good deed of the day. But then I heard…” I trail off.

No way am I admitting I just overheard all of that. I like my tongue. I would like to keep it where it belongs. In my mouth.

“I left my card.” He says slowly as if realizing it for the first time.

“Yes.”

“And you followed me, a stranger, into an alley… to return it?”

“As I said, it was my good deed of the day.” I repeat, flushing further. Why does doing a good deed make me even more embarrassed in front of this man?

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose before looking up at the sky, “What am I going to do with you? ”

I don’t get a chance to respond, because an accented voice calls from the darkness. “Come out. We found you. You have nowhere to go.”

“Help!” I scream over his shoulder, hoping the man will hear me.

Mr. Montclair curses, and slaps a palm over my mouth, but it’s too late.

“We will tell Viktor we have eyes on the target. He will be happy when we deliver.”

Target? Nowhere to go? Deliver?

What the actual fuck?

Mr. Montclair moves. His hand leaves my mouth as he reaches under his jacket. When it reemerges, I see a gun.

Movement in front of me breaks my spiral.

Oh my God. Why does this sexy hunk have a gun?

He puts a finger over his lips. A silent order: stay quiet.

Fat fucking chance.

“Help! We’re over here!” I scream.

Laugher echoes in response.

Then I see them. The men. And all hope evaporates.

These men look downright creepy. This was a very bad plan.

Follow a stranger into an alley. Then not learn from that mistake and get two more strangers to come kill me.

And these two aren’t even hot. If I’m going to be murdered in this dark alley, I’m voting that Mr. Montclair, the sexy one, will be the one to do it.

Mr. Montclair turns, pressing me against the wall with his back, shielding me.

“Who the fuck are you?” He demands.

“We are here to get you. Come with me.” One of the Russian men says. He’s looking right at me, even as he talks to Mr. Montclair. I’m so fucking glad they’re not here for me. They’re terrifying.

“No one is going anywhere. Who sent you?”

“Viktor. Now let us get what we came for.”

“No.”

There’s a rapid exchange in Russian between the two goons.

Then, gunfire.

I duck, screaming.

But within seconds, silence descends. I heard five shots fire. I can see where bullets hit the wall mere inches from us.

I peer around Mr. Montclair’s arm. The two Russians are on the ground.

A bullet hole between both of their eyes.

And that’s when I really start screaming.