Twisted Fate (Dark Heart 2)

When she takes off at a jog, I give her about a minute. Then I start across the crosswalk, tailing her into the park, keeping the same distance I always have. I stay close enough so I can see her on some straight shots and could hear her scream if something went wrong, but not so close she’ll see me if she glances back.

It’s not ideal for me, because I can’t see her as well as I’d like. But it’s the safest thing for her. My brother peeked at a computer used by Aren’s FBI fuck buddy, and he found out Aren is looking to turn on anyone the Bureau has an interest in, attempting to mitigate charges they’ll bring against him and his crew for importing weapons and selling them stateside. If Aren thinks he can serve me up to the FBI, it makes sense that he’d shift his focus to the D.A.’s office. And because he thinks I’m on Elise’s good side—and he knows he’s on her bad side—he sees that as a weak spot for him.

I still work with Aren—it’s necessary for the pink ops—and he says something fucked up about “the cunt” almost every time we speak. Makes me want to fuck him up, but I’m not stopping the ops just because the guy’s a lunatic. I don’t even think that it would help. He’s fixated on Elise. The only thing I can do is just watch her…like this.

I’m so damn tempted to get closer to her. The run seems to last forever. I can’t sort out if I’m faster—I have been running a bunch lately—or if la mia rosa has gotten slower, but I get a little jolt when I realize that what I’m smelling is her perfume. Christ.

And suddenly, I’ve closed the distance between us. Fuck, she’s less than thirty feet ahead of me. I pause and evaluate, deciding she is moving slowly.

At that moment, she slows to a walk and brings a hand up to her forehead. Just as I’m lengthening my stride to close the space between us, she starts jogging again, albeit more slowly.

Fuck, her form is sloppy. Did she stop running for these months, and she’s just getting back into the groove? Maybe she has a blister on her foot.

I shake my head, gritting my teeth at the ridiculously strong temptation I feel to go scoop her up. It’s been so long since I touched her. Since she wrapped her arms around me.

Even though things went sideways that night at Soren’s buddy’s party, Jace had the grace—and kindness toward Elise—to give the two of us some time together before we left the bedroom we’d been in. I held her for a while and told her again how I just wanted her to do whatever made her life good. She cried; I remember rubbing her back, inhaling her perfume.

“Per sempre,” I’d whispered near her ear.

Today, I think about that—how it feels to hold her; it’s like nothing else—as she picks up more speed. That’s good. I tell myself she must have had a cramp a little earlier, that’s all. We go around The Lake then start south toward Sheep Meadow. The sun is coming up, casting soft gold light on the world. I’m lost in my head, lit up just by how damn good it feels to watch her move.

I’m smiling as she gets to this wooden booth that sells lemonade during the day. Place is shuttered for the night, but Elise stops beside it. I assume she’s reading the sign nailed to its side. I watch her around the back side of it, where there’s a little grove with a few trees. She’s breathing hard enough so I can hear her.

After a brief hesitation, I walk around the other way, watching from behind a tree’s trunk as she leans against the building’s back wall. She drops her face into her hands, and my heart pounds a little harder.

What’s the matter, rosa dolce?

She looks out at the trees that shade the lemonade stand. Then her gaze slides to me. She blinks slowly, her eyes popping wide and her lips rounding. Her hands flutter up by her face, like she might want to cover it, but she doesn’t. She just stares at me, unblinking, looking stricken, shoulders pumping as she pants.

I feel like I’m in a snow globe someone’s tilting as I step closer to her. “Hey there, rosa. You okay?”

I don’t trust myself to get close…but she shakes her head, her lips pressing flat. That’s permission.

I close the small distance between us, my sneaks crunching on the dry leaves. When I’m close enough to smell her perfume again, she bows her head and holds her hands out, fingers splayed as if she’s reaching for me. After a moment frowning at her flushed face, I lace my fingers through hers.