He slowly nodded. “You might be right. He’s not a guy who will take this well.”
No, but that was the point.
I glanced one last time at his journal, the corner of my note sticking out at the top edge.
He’d hate me. Connor’s morals were about loyalty, integrity, and honesty. I just crushed all of those traits in three simple sentences.
He’d forget me. One day he’d forget, but he’d never forgive and I had to live with that.
I wouldn’t forget him. Not ever. Because I was leaving all of me with him. He just didn’t know it.Question 3: One word to describe you that starts with a “p”?Present DayNOTHING WAS CERTAIN except detonation.
Detonation of my mind. A complex web of unsettled darkness that threatened to spark and explode at any moment.
That was my fuckin’ certainty.
Uncontrollable.
Uncontained.
The drug Vault had me on for years made me into a hard, cruel killer without a past. Without memories. And that made me dangerous as fuck.
Now the drug had stopped, but it was worse, because the memories filtered back in and with them surfaced a deep inner rage.
I was too dangerous to be near her and yet I sat on my bike across the street from the bar, Avalanche, the engine idling with a rumble beneath me.
So fuckin’ close. Too close for her own good.
A car door slammed and I lifted my head.
I stiffened. Fingers dug into my thighs as I watched Deck, my ex-JTF2 team leader and ex-best friend walk around the front of his car then open the passenger door.
The streetlight hanging above swayed in the breeze and the light shimmered over him, but I couldn’t see his face. It was tilted down as he helped some chick out of his car.
But it wasn’t some chick; it was my fuckin’ sister.
He put his arm protectively around her shoulders and she leaned into him, arm around his waist as they walked toward the entrance of the bar.
Sweet, innocent Georgie-girl. There were purple streaks in her hair and it was unkempt and carefree. She wore a mid-thigh, tight black skirt, V-neck top that was a rainbow of purples, and red stiletto heels. There was an assuredness to her step that she’d lacked as a kid. I was betting she no longer had a color-coded closet. She definitely wasn’t concerned about her hair being impeccable.
All grown up and completely fuckin’ different.
Emotions sparked as I watched them. Not good emotions. Anger. Rage.
Before they disappeared inside, Deck stopped, turned into her, and slid both hands down her sides to settle on her hips. Then he lowered his head and kissed her.
They drew apart. I couldn’t see Deck’s face as his back was to me, but I saw how he was with her. How he held her, how he protected her with his body facing the street, how he kissed her then gently moved to cup the back of her neck as he leaned in and whispered something in her ear.
She laughed and the sound rode the warm breeze and drifted into me. I tried to let it in. Let it sink into my cold, fucked-up soul, but it bounced off me and dissipated into the air.
My past was gone.
My sister.
My parents.
They were dead to me now.
Didn’t need them. Didn’t care about them. The only thing I felt was rage.
That was a lie. I did care about one thing. I didn’t want to care. Tried like hell not to, but she refused to be killed off.
Her. My girl. My Alina.
She was the reason I spent three straight days and nights riding my bike from Miami to Toronto while catching short naps on the side of the road.
I never slept longer than a few hours at a time. If I did, I woke with adrenaline pumping through my veins. Volatile adrenaline that was unstable and made me unpredictable. I had the urge to hurt something. To destroy. It grabbed onto me so tight that I couldn’t breathe.
The only way to stop it was get on my bike and ride. Fast. Hard. The threat of dying always a millisecond away.
I should be dead. But fate was getting its kicks out of playing with me.
Yeah, well, I knew how to play, too, just not the same way I used to. Now, I didn’t play nice.
A raindrop hit the tinted shield of my helmet and glided down the plastic. I wiped it away with my gloved hand leaving a streak.
What the hell was I doing?
Everything about being here was stupid. If Deck or any of my old buddies saw me, I was uncertain what they’d do, but I was guessing it wouldn’t be a friendly handshake.
And Alina. What would she do? The last time I’d seen her was six weeks ago when I’d dragged her through a house filled with dead bodies. Bodies I’d killed in order to get to her. Then I left her tied up in the sewer while I went to kill her worthless drug lord husband, Carlos Moreno.