The Master (The Game Maker 2)

This town was done for me; I had no one to call. Decided, I stuffed the phone under the cab driver's seat as I paid him.

Under a winter-bright sun, I stumbled across the parking lot. Too late I realized that Sevastyan would have to give a damn to use my phone against me. He'd be too busy tonight with Ivanna.

I'd worried that he was setting me up for a crash landing. Oh, he had. I felt like there were parts of me scattered all over the pavement, my heart shattered like glass.

Once I reached my apartment complex after being away so long, I grimaced. I hadn't remembered how horrid it was. I climbed the stairs, feeling a hundred years older.

Inside my studio, I peered around, thunderstruck. How had I lived here for half a year? Only one more night, only one more night.

Over the weekend, I'd started to believe I would have a future with a guy who could help me stand up to Edward. A partner, someone on my team. I'd lowered my guard. I'd gotten caught up in that life, that man. I'd gotten soft.

Never again.

I crossed to my safe. I'd count up my loot. That would make me feel better. I unscrewed the AC vent and removed the grill--

My thoughts blanked. My safe was . . . empty. I blinked in bewilderment. Empty?

EMPTY?

My money was gone. My own meager savings, plus what I'd earned from Sevastyan. Who the hell could have taken it? Who would've known?

I had only Sevastyan's pin money to my name. After the cab, that left me two hundred and forty dollars. Would that even pay for the bus fare out west?

Tears welled. My hopes of leaving Miami, of reaching safety, were gone. I had no expectation of help from Sevastyan; the well had gone dry--right when I'd been robbed.

I threw back my head and yelled.

Once I'd finished primal screaming, I realized that my ID and my mother's rosary had been filched as well. What kind of fiend would steal a rosary? Even Sevastyan's money clip was gone.

Who could have gotten in? I had a dead bolt on the door. I gazed around, fear trickling inside me. I stilled, only now detecting a smell that shouldn't be here: a mix of sweat and cigarettes.

Shadwell.

He'd been in my apartment. He must've stolen everything! But how had he known where my hiding place was?

Following some instinct, I crossed to my underwear drawer. All of my thongs were gone. That sick fuck! He knew I couldn't go to the cops. My first impulse was to go throat-punch him. No, he probably wanted me to confront him.

Yet again I would be the shrewd coward, unable to do a damned thing. Stole my dinero, Shadwell? Don't spend it all in one place. My ID? I didn't need to work--that's not how I roll. My mother's rosary? Vaya con Dios.

When the import of what I'd lost truly hit me, I was sure I'd lose my ever-loving shit as well.

Block it out. For now, survival. How the hell was I going to get money? I weighed options. Maybe I should call Natalie? But she was in St. Bart's for her honeymoon. Jess? Oh, wait. No phone.

Fuck. Me jodi.

My eyes went wide. Mrs. Abernathy! I'd confirmed with her. In a private jet, I'd told myself the joke was on her. I almost laughed.

I could clean tomorrow before my exam at two and get another one twenty. It wasn't a lot, but I could increase my net worth by 50 percent.

Three hundred and sixty dollars.

Three-sixty.

How fitting.

Still, it'd be enough to get me out of town. But how to make it through the night? Shadwell had a key, could waltz in here at any time. If I nodded off, I could wake up to his leering face.

I'd gone from strong arms to hold me and bodyguards protecting me to imminent attack.

CHAPTER 35

As I scrubbed the floor of the blue bathroom at Mrs. Abernathy's, I stared at the tiles until they ran together. Only a few more hours to my exam.

Last night, I'd held vigil at my violated apartment--inside my own bathroom, with the door locked. I'd gotten little sleep, but I'd been able to steal out early, eluding Shadwell and kissing that place good-bye forever.

Now to blow this city.

On Mrs. Abernathy's computer I'd looked up the Greyhound bus schedule. My three-sixty would take me to San Diego, barely. A bus left tonight, not long after my exam. I located a women's shelter in Cali not far from the terminal. Maybe they could help me until I got back on my feet.

Until I could get another ID.

Here I was--totally screwed--and yet I couldn't stop thinking about Sevastyan and Ivanna. This morning, I'd vomited after imagining them together.

While I'd fallen for him, his preferences had reverted to tall, slim, blond, and European.

Of course, I hadn't been able to study last night, what with the continual crying and fear of Shadwell. What if I was so tired and despondent that I couldn't think? What if I flunked? For years, my goal had been to make a perfect 4.0. If I failed right at the end, why should I believe I could succeed at other goals?

My grail, my college credit odyssey, my penance and atonement. All jeopardized because of Sevastyan--

"What the hell are you doing?"

I jerked around with a scream, stunned to see him at the doorway of the blue bathroom. "H-how did you find me?"

"I knew you were going to be at a Mrs. Abernathy's on this day. There are only so many in Miami that made sense."

When I'd confirmed with the woman, he'd recorded it! "You have no right! If I get caught with you here, I'll get fired." Not that I was ever coming back.

"And that matters?" His tie was loosened, and his hair was unruly, as if he'd been stabbing his fingers through it. He looked like he'd slept less than I had--and I'd been in my bathtub.

Because he'd been with stunning Ivanna all night? The invisible fist paid me a visit.

"You appear . . . different," he said.

Even in the midst of my emotional turmoil, I hated the fact that I looked like hell. My hair was plaited in two braids, and I wore a faded bandana on my head. Bright yellow gloves, clunky running shoes, frayed jean shorts, and an old T-shirt rounded out my ensemble. No makeup, naturally.

And I was kneeling in floor cleaner. I sponged it up. "You have to leave." What did he want from me? Did he regret his snide cruelty to me? Did he regret screwing my friend?

Too late, Russian.

"Here." He offered his hand.

I slapped it away, standing on my own, tearing off my gloves. I stuffed my supplies in a cleaning caddy, then shoved past him.

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what's going on." He followed me as I stowed the caddy in a closet.

"I'm at work. You're stalking me."

"You know I'll pay for any income you lose, however modest it might be."

I whirled around on him. "Don't you dare! You don't get to insult me for being an escort, then turn around and insult me for cleaning houses. You can't have it both ways!"

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're right. But yesterday I offered you more than you could make at this in years. You know economics. This is not the highest and best use of your time."

"I don't want your money! And I damn sure don't want to beg you for it." I hurried down the grand staircase to collect my pay and my backpack.

He was right beside me. "I was angry. That was uncalled for. I would not do that again."

In the kitchen, my gaze flicked to the envelope on the counter; his did too. He lunged for it before I reached it.

"That's mine!"

He flipped through the bills, then surveyed the spotless mansion. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He finally handed my pay over.

Stuffing the envelope into a pocket, I headed to the back entrance. At the door, I grabbed my pack and snapped to Sevastyan, "Get out. Now." I punched in the alarm code. If only I'd armed it before my stalker had arrived.

With raised brows, he exited. "To be given the code for a place like this, you must've been cleaning it for a while."

The clock on the alarm panel said one! Mierda! I'd lost track of time.

My bus stop was half a mile away. If I missed my ride, I'd miss my exam.

"I just want five minutes, Katya."

"I don't have five minutes and wouldn't give them to you even if I did. Sevastyan, consider this a scarcity situation. As far as you're concerned, my ass just got scarce." I hurried outside, rolling my eyes to see Vasili parked on the street.

Forbidding clouds gathered overhead. Getting to school in the rain; perfect. When I hustled toward my stop, Sevastyan kept following me! "Dejame en paz!"

"Leave you alone? Not until you talk to me."

Would he follow me onto the bus? If he did, he could find out where I went to school. Maybe I should try to put him off. I stopped, telling him, "If you go now, I will meet up with you later. I'll swing by the hotel."

"Oh, really?"

"I can be there at five, and we'll talk all of this out."

He blinked down at me. "You're . . . lying." A breath left him. "And you're fucking awful at it."