Page 76 of Rogue

My palm feels clammy over the gun’s metal grip. I ignore it and firm up my hold as I raise the gun toward my mark.

I’ve waited so long, endured so much, sacrificed everything. Finally. And as my initial shock fades, I feel calm. Light . . . like the light shining on my face . . . like the light . . .blindingme.

Truly blinding me—for a second, I can’t see.

What the hell?

When my vision clears, I spyhisreflection in the windowpane. The bane of my existence. The thorn in my side. My lover. My enemy. My soon-to-be punching bag, I think, as understanding dawns on me.

He’s looking right at me. Manipulating the sunlight so it shines in my eyes. Using the chrome from his weapon, which is now pointed directly at me.

Damn him.

He nods in Novák’s direction then shakes his head no.

“Yes,” I mouth.

His reflection disappears as glass shatters all around me.

Holy sweet Mary. He shot at me . . . again?

I cover my head with one hand and drop my weapon into my satchel with the other.

No hope I’ll outshoot a sniper like him. No way do I need Novák’s attention on me now. I let out a long sigh. No choice but to hightail it outta here.

I race down the spiral staircase, past the art gallery and down the hall of mirrored shops.

Leaving behind the man of my nightmares along with the man of my dreams.

20

Shelby

“I’ve been reminded that you’ve a sister, one who looks just like you. The night’s young and we’re just getting started. Why not invite her to the party?”

“She’s headed to Europe.” I quickly fabricate a lie. “Packed her bags, bought a Eurail Pass, and told me she’s getting the hell out of Oklahoma.”

I feel the blood drain from my face and I struggle to keep my composure. Reminded? Someone has clearly connected the dots from her to me despite my trying so damn hard to shelter her from my business.

Shelby’s a small town, yet it’s not like she interacts with the outsiders who seem hell-bent on ruining our town. The mob. The Pricks who killed my father. We avoid assholes like them. Well . . .sheavoids them. Not the hardest thing to do if you stay clear of the west side of town, where Franco has taken over one of the larger houses in town, and where I am tonight.

Madelyn’s focus must be on her grades so she can transfer college credits and get the hell out of Shelby. Bad enough her time is divided between school and Mama’s care, with her carrying my weight as well as her own. Guilt is the weight I’m bearing from not being around much to help.

Franco taking an interest in my sister now completes the trifecta of problems I’m facing.

“I’ve stopped taking the mebendazole pills,” my mother had informed me a few days ago. The side effects of the pills have caused her to become weak and frail, yet her backbone remains remarkably strong, so firm she is in her decision.

“You can’t . . .” I’d stiffened in the seat I’d dragged up next to her bed when she informed me of her decision to stop her treatment.

“The expense outweighs the benefit,” she’d argued, sitting up to fluff her pillow, taking my hand, then tearing my heart to pieces. “In life, nothing is as important as love. It’s what makes you get up in the morning, makes you see the goodness in others, makes you whole. I loved your father wholeheartedly. The man of my dreams, my one and only. I wish you and Madelyn find a love like ours. But for such keen brainiac, your father’s investment sense was severely lacking . . . by that, I mean it stank to high heavens. Thank goodness, my investment instincts turned out to be much more . . . equitable.”

“What do you mean?” I’d asked.

“You’ll see in time. But for now, will you do me this favor?”

“Yes.” Whenever she used that tone, you knew you were in trouble.

“Whatever you’re doing, stop it. I fully expected to pay for these pink pills myself but I see you’ve beat me to it. I don’t know how you’re earning this money . . .”