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He stands, crowding me in that small space. He takes the towel from my hand. “Leave me.”

“You’ll do it?”

He glowers.

“Just don’t get the bandage wet.”

His glower intensifies, or maybe it’s the atmosphere in that small space that intensifies. Nervously, I back out of the bathroom and shut the door. I listen to the water crashing, leaning in that spot where he had me, remembering the way he pressed me against the wall. Feeling his arms around me as he held me in the bed. I squeeze my legs together, imagining it’s his fingers between my legs.

I listen to him swish the water, testing it.

In the tub now.

I grab my phone and call Murray, talking in low tones. He’s sending over a rental car and a burner phone—any minute now, he tells me.

Good. I give him an update. There’s a rural shopping mall twenty minutes out. I’m going to get him decent clothes and shoes. Outdoor supplies. I cut his hair.

“Savage Adonis getting a makeover. Tell me you’re getting this.”

“This isn’tPretty Woman,” I say.

“No, it’s better thanPretty Woman,” Murray growls.

“I got a before shot, don’t worry.”

“And notes?”

I lie and say yes, even though I hardly need to take notes. I tell him about the meal he ate. There’s a lot I leave out.

“Listen, I looked into the mob angle from here. The lion tattoo is probably the Black Lion clan, headed by Lazarus Morina, aka Bloody Lazarus. They’re powerful, but they don’t seem to have any active blood feud that would merit this kind of hunt. Another clan family, the Valcheks, were enemies at one time, but they wiped them out some twenty years back. All the males.”

“Could Kiro be a Valchek? Maybe hidden? At the time of the war?”

“The timing is right, but I put a researcher on it, and there is no Kiro Valchek. There’s a deceased Kiro here and there. A few back in Albania that are connected to the organization, so we’re checking on them to make sure they’re still there. But I think you’re right—that kind of firepower doesn’t come out for a vendetta. These mob guys aren’t idiots. They’re not going to expend the resources like what we saw at the Fancher Institute for a blood vendetta. They have fucking criminal businesses to run, bottom lines to think about. It doesn’t make sense.”

“Keep me updated. Look for any missing twenty-something Kiros. I need that side of the story.”

“What about his life in the woods? I need the wolfy stuff. Cutting his hair and a meal, that’s not front-page-feature stuff.”

“You’re going front page?”

Murray goes on. This will be a front-page feature, multiple days running. It’ll get picked up all over. He wants to hold some sexy images back to sell toBMZ Confidential, the ultimate sleazy Hollywood gossip site. “Get his buy-in. Does he want to be independently wealthy? Would you keep him from that? He plays this right, he can write his own checks.”

“I’m not doing aBMZkind of article.”

It’s then that he utters the worst two words he possibly can: Garrick Price. “I think I’m going to send him. He’ll be a lot of help to you.”

“I don’t need Garrick.”

“I think you do. I’ll have him on a plane in an hour—”

“I got this,” I say softly, listening to make sure the shower’s still running. “And I’ll tell you something else—Kiro would not take well to Garrick.”

“Garrick gets along with everyone.”

It’s true in a way. Garrick can play anybody. He gets people under a spell, and then he twists the knife. He leaves people in ruins. Could he do it to Kiro?

My heart pounds. Garrick will either spook Kiro or make him his big buddy. It would be bad either way. “I have mojo going that Garrick would fuck up.”


Tags: Annika Martin Erotic