Page 54 of Love Her

“Your father’s goons don’t scare me,” the man told her, cinching the top of the trashbag he was holding tight. “So why were you there,” he asked her, reaching out with his other hand for the spot inside her elbow, where the outline of a bandage was ruining her sweater’s line.

She jumped back before I had an excuse to kill him. “Nothing! Just a check-up! I haven’t gotten any bloodwork done since I came back into the country?—”

“You need to go,” I growled at him.

“Who the fuck are you? And why the fuck are you here?” the other man sneered.

Because I hadn’t showered I hadn’t shaved—or done anything with my hair—I’d just decided to hole up in my office looking like a troll all day—there was an actual chance he didn’t recognize me, because I sure as shit had no idea who he was.

“There was a meeting at work. Miss Ferreo didn’t show.”

“Oh, you didn’t get the memo. She’s working for us now,” he said. “You need to talk to your superiors about things.”

“And who would they be?” I snarled.

“Just—get the fuck out already. The both of you,” Lia said, pointing at the door.

“Your lunch has been canceled by the way,” the man informed her. “Instead we’re doing a family dinner tomorrow night.”

“I don’t fucking care—get out!” she wailed—and I did as she said, following the smaller man down the hall, where he chucked his trashbag into the trash chute, before summoning an elevator. I made sure he saw me get into a different one—but before I could hit the button for a floor, I got a text.

Come back in five?

she sent—giving me time for plausible deniability.

I thought, but didn’t send:

That’s my girl.

28

LIA

Iwas trembling on the couch when Rhaim returned, holding a trash bag.

He’d gone down and braved the complex basement trash for me.

That alone made me want to cry.

“I wasn’t followed,” he said, after he closed the door quickly behind himself. I stood up to throw myself at him, but he held a hand out. “Stand down. Give me a few minutes,” he said, calling someone else—who talked him through snooping through my entire apartment, waving his phone around.

Looking for bugs, I realized, hanging my head.

“You sure?” Rhaim asked whoever was on the far side of the line, before coming back into the living room with me. “Good. Thanks,” he said, and then hung up to ask me, “You okay?”

“No,” I said, and finally ran for him. He caught me and held me close.

“Who the fuck was that?”

“Arnold—my handler—and I thought you were going to kill him.”

“I did too,” he murmured into my hair. “You did good this morning, on TV.”

“I know,” I said, nodding against his chest, before he peeled me away to look at me.

“But what’s this about a doctor’s visit? You go to Enzo?”

“Yeah. I gave him some blood,” I said, as everything hit me. Being watched by Rhaim was one thing—being watched by anyone on the street was another.

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