Page 18 of Skate the Line

My heart halts. I’m stunned.Fate?!

“Oh–”

“Are you still in town?”

Technically. “Yes.”

His loud sigh filters through the phone. “Good. You’re up.”

There’s chatter in the background, and it’s hard to hear him, but I’m certain he just threw me a lifeline. Before I can inquire, I hear my text tone go off.

“I sent you the address to my house. I need you there as soon as possible. If you can manage to handle the situation by the time I get there and keep me out of jail, then the job is yours.”

I’m already heading for the airport door with my bag in tow. “See you soon,” I quip.

He hangs up the phone, and I stare at the blank screen for a few seconds and try to crawl through the confusion. Rhodes is every bit of gruff and intimidating, but the way his voice trembled with panic has me hurriedly calling another Uber to head to the address he gave me.

If I can manage to handle the situation and keep him out of jail, then the job is mine?

Say less, Mr. Volkova.

I don’t salute this Uber driver.

Instead, I climb out of the backseat and stare at the tall, luxurious home.

My neck gets a cramp the longer I gaze at the intricate detail of the limestone, and don’t even get me started on the ironclad door.

“Here.” The Uber driver drops my suitcase beside my feet with a thud and scares me out of my stupor.

“Oh, right. Thanks.” I hand him a tip, and he takes off while I drag my suitcase up the concrete stairs.

I rap my knuckles quickly on the door. I’m not sure what to expect on the other side. Rhodes didn’t give me much to go on, and although I wanted to text him on the way over, I decided not to because part of me wonders if this is a test. I refuse to fail it, so whatever is on the other side of this iron, so be it.

There’s no answer, which puzzles me.

I walk back down the steps and leave my suitcase on the porch. I peer up the side of the limestone again. Several windows line the front, and I’m certain it’s considered a historical home. It is beautiful even without seeing it in the daylight. My eyes snag the window on the left, two stories up. There’s a tiny shadow behind the curtain with the dim light of a lamp from behind.

Is she alone?

My heart skips a beat, and I rush up the stairs again.

I knock again and again. No answer.

Bending at the knees, I lift up the rug to see if there’s a spare key, but then I hear the creaking of iron.

“May I help you?”

I expected a little girl to appear.

Not a woman who doesn’t look much older than me, and especially not one who has a look of displeasure curved in her features.

Springing into action, I stand quickly and pretend I know what I’m doing.

“Yeah, hi. I’m here to take over care for Mr. Volkova’s daughter.”

Shit, I don’t even know her name!

Shock moves across her face.

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