Page 164 of Mission Shift

The city blurred past the tinted windows as we moved through Manhattan. The dog rested his head on my lap, breathing heavily as I scratched behind his ears. His eyes drifted shut. He was completely at ease, as if he’d always belonged in my lap—never mind that twenty minutes ago, he’d nearly been butchered for swiping a slab of steak.

Braxton glanced over and gave me a small smirk. “So, are we just gonna keep calling himdog, or what?”

I flicked my eyes up at him. “You want to name him?”

“You found him. He’s your stray.”

I laughed. “Exactly. He’s mine.Iget to name him.”

Braxton rolled his eyes and stretched an arm along the back of the seat. “Okay, so what’s it gonna be? Something badass? Killer? Or cute? Like…Bunny?”

I raised a brow. “You think I’d name a cane corsoBunny?”

He grinned. “Could be funny.”

I looked down at the dog, whose scarred muzzle rested peacefully against my thigh. “You don’t strike me as aBunny.”

“Okay, how about…” Braxton tapped his chin. “Diesel. Thor. Vader. Goliath.”

I rubbed under the dog’s chin and watched his lips twitch. “Vader’s not bad. But a bit…too obvious.”

Braxton shrugged. “Then go cute. Muffin? Snuggles?”

I gave him an exasperated look. “You want this dog to murder you in your sleep?”

He pointed at me. “You smiled. Yousmiledat Snuggles.”

“No, I smirked. At your stupidity.”

“Tomato, tomahto.”

I turned back to the dog. “What about—Riot?”

His tail thumped once.

“Riot?” Braxton repeated. “Not bad. Got that rebel edge.”

“But he’s not just a fighter,” I said. “He’s a survivor. Loyal. Smart.” I narrowed my eyes, continuing to try to come up with the perfect name.

The limo slowed to a stop, but I didn’t look up right away; I was still focused on the dog. “Stay here, handsome,” I told him. “We’ll be right back.”

Braxton slid out of his seat and turned toward me, extending a hand. “Come on.”

I took it instinctively, but when I stepped out of the car and looked past him, my knees nearly buckled.

My breath caught, and my hand flew to my mouth. “Oh my God.”

He said nothing, just stood there with that crooked half smile on his face. He looked sheepish, nervous…as if he wanted to ask me to follow him but was unsure if I’d go.

Across the sidewalk stood a man in a tailored suit, holding open the door to Harry Winston—a name I’d only ever heard whispered in high-society circles back in Moscow. The lighting inside sparkled like the stars in the heavens.

I turned back to Braxton, heart hammering. “What is this?”

“That conversation I had with Nikolai earlier…” He shrugged. “Told him I needed a favor.”

“You can’t just— This is Fifth Avenue.”

“I know exactly where we are.” He gave my hand a squeeze. “Come on, my lovely wife. Let’s go see if we can find a diamond even half as beautiful as you.”

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