Page 57 of Wicked Intention

Finn picked up his pace now, and as she hurried to keep up with him, Zo looked around, searching for the men she’d been running from. She didn’t see the tree root until she tripped. She flailed, trying to catch her balance, and when she was finally stable, she looked at Finn, but while he’d stopped, he wasn’t watching her.

She followed his gaze. The shadows concealed their faces, but not their weapons. Three men with military-style rifles stood in front of them.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Los Angeles, California

24 Months Earlier

FINN WALKED from the stairwell to Zo’s condo. The beige tile was clean and well-maintained, but it wasn’t a surprise, given how much a unit in this building must sell for. He stopped in front of her door, the rich mahogany as polished as the floor. He didn’t reach for the bell. His buddies were right—this was a stupid idea. She had no reason to trust him, he had no reason to expect her to let him in, and yet, here he was. Chemistry, lust at first sight—whatever the label, it was stronger than anything he remembered feeling before.

Maybe he should leave. Finn looked around. This was a high-end building with security so tight that it had taken him a hell of a long time to figure out a way around it. He didn’t belong here.

Fuck it.Finn pressed the bell.

It took a moment before he sensed her presence on theother side of the door. She’d looked out of the peephole, and recognized him, but done nothing.

“Zo, open up,” he said just loudly enough for her to hear. “Let’s talk.”

“Go away.”

“Please?”

There was a long pause before he heard the locks turn. The door opened about six inches, and she stood directly in front of it, her body blocking the entrance. “Well?”

He shook his head. “Inside, not in the hallway.”

Suspicion was plain on her face. Who could blame her? As far as she was concerned, he wasn’t only a mercenary, but a gunrunner as well, and the last time she’d seen him, he’d been in handcuffs. “Please,” Finn said again.

She stared, considering him, and Finn tried to look as non-threatening as a man his size could. He guessed it wouldn’t matter, that she’d turn him away.

Before he could think of another tactic, Zo opened the door wider. “If someone watches the news tomorrow and says I deserved to be raped and murdered because I was too stupid to live, I will haunt your ass for eternity. Count on it.” And then she stood aside.

Finn didn’t give her a chance to change her mind. “I won’t hurt you, not in any way. I promise.”

He’d expected her to be dressed in jeans or maybe khakis and a casual shirt of some kind, but she wasn’t. LA Zo was wearing gray linen trousers, a charcoal, long-sleeve shirt with white stripes, and over that, a charcoal linen jacket with the cuffs rolled up midway between her wrist and elbow. A black leather belt matched low-heeled pumps, and her hair was pulled back in a sleek ponytail. She appeared cosmopolitan in a way she hadn’t in Puerto Jardin.

Her style made him painfully aware of his own faded blue jeans and black T-shirt. At least he’d thrown on a blazer, andhis hair was cut short from his gig as Ski’s best man, but he was second-guessing himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have come to California. This wasn’t the Zo he’d expected to find.

As she closed the door, he looked around, wanting any insight intothisZo that her home might give him. He’d guessed she’d go for modern, but he hadn’t imagined how sophisticated the condo would be. The front door was painted bright orange on the inside.

The kitchen was to his left. The lower cabinets were a glossy white, and the uppers were bright orange. There were four orange leather stools with chrome bases in front of a white quartz island, and the oven was orange, the same shade as the cabinets, although the other appliances were stainless.

Behind him, he heard her relock the door. Slowly. As if she were rethinking her decision to allow him inside.

Moving deeper into her space in case she tried to throw him out, Finn took in the gleaming white stone floors, the soft-gray sofas in the great room to his right, and the lighting. There were a lot of recessed lights—probably standard for the condo—but over the island were pendants with round crystals hanging on all sides. A matching rectangular lighting fixture hung over the glass dining room table on the other side of the space.

Finn realized the silence had dragged on too long, and he glanced behind him. She had her arms crossed over her chest as she frowned at him. He needed to say something. “Orange?”

It wasn’t the reassuring message he’d meant to convey, but one side of her mouth kicked upward in a sort-of smile. “Bright colors make me happy,” Zo said as she brushed past him.

He followed her into the great room. The fireplace had to be electric, but it was set in a gray-veined, white marble façade. And there was more glass and chrome for the sidetables. Again, perfect for the glamorous woman standing in front of him. Finn shot a glance at the entrance. Maybe it was time to apologize for bothering her and leave. He honestly didn’t belong here.

But he didn’t move.

She stared at him, clearly waiting. Instead of speaking, though, Finn stared back. Behind her polite expression, he picked up a definite glower. Something eased inside him. This was the Zo he knew. “I missed you, loquita,” he said quietly.

He’d thrown her off balance, and Finn hid a grin. Zo didn’t lose her poise easily, but the moment didn’t last long. Raising both brows, she jammed her hands into the pockets of her trousers. “When did you get out of prison?”

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