Page 6 of Deceptive Vows
She would’ve said that made me lucky.
But she wasn’t here.
And living in the past was for the weak.
I’d learned that early. Memories were luxuries—they dulled your edge, made you slow. And in our world, even a second’s hesitation could be fatal. Better to keep moving. Eyes on the horizon, not on ghosts.
“I appreciate the escort.”
Lex gave me a solemn look. “You know I’m not leaving until I know you’re safely inside.”
I bit back an eye roll and shook my head. Some things never changed. Lex’s overprotective streak was one of them. Not that I’d admit how much I liked it.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll go in and set the alarm. I can’t have Lucas harming my partner in crime.”
Out of nowhere, an image of Mr. Gumdrop flickered across my mind. Would a man like him be that protective of a woman? Even with all her sharp edges… would he still pull her close?
Ridiculous thought.
I shook my head, irritated with myself. Maybe I just needed to find a man—long enough to shake these absurd ideas out of my system.
Unlocking the door, I stepped inside. After disarming and rearming the alarm, I called out, “Alarm is set!”
“See you tomorrow,” Lex replied.
Leaning back against the door, I let out a long breath. Ran a hand through my hair, trying to smooth away the strange flutter that man in the bar had left in my chest.
Tomorrow would come with its own chaos. I didn’t have time to drown. Not even in eyes like his.
Chapter Two
NAZAR
Gravel crunchedbeneath my boots as I stepped out of the SUV. My hand hovered over the holster hidden beneath my suit coat as I turned, taking in the small, no-name town. Shuttered businesses, a diner with a broken sign gently swaying in the breeze, and a buzzing neon sign hanging on the door of the only open business—a rundown bar.
Our driver, Ilya Poroshenko, knew to stay in the vehicle in case we needed to leave quickly.
I'd sent men ahead of us. Now unseen, I knew they were surrounding the place. Likely, Moretti had done the same.
This meeting with Don Marco Moretti was supposed to be friendly since we'd been working with him for the last two months, but that didn’t mean it'd stay friendly.
"Prozrachnyy," I said to Pasha Morozov, my Pakhan.
He joined me, adjusting his coat.
My man, Mick, took up the flank, hand on the grip of his gun.
We reached the door, and the hinges creaked as I pushed it open.
Inside, it felt about as lifeless as the rest of the town. The smell of stale beer and grease hit before I registered the low, amber lighting. A long bar was to the right with old lacquer coating the top. Cracked vinyl booths were to the left.
If I were to guess, the only reason this place had what little heartbeat it had was because it was the Don's favorite neutral meeting place.
A bartender in a black tank top and jeans nodded and quickly disappeared through a back door. More proof that the Don kept this place alive.
I slipped my hand into my pocket and thumbed the signal jammer on.
Pasha and I strode to theback corner booth that was half-shaded with an emergency exit close by.
