Page 86 of Desperate Crimes
She’s mine—and she’s about to remember why.
Chapter Twenty-Two-Leanna
Later That Night–The Whiskey Bar, Montclair
The noise of the bar is welcome.
Laughter. Music. Clinking silverware.
The scent of lemon and rosemary in the air.
Familiar.
My cousin Sammy loves this place. He’s a big fan of Whiskey Neat, the artisan whiskey label that belongs to the owner of the bar.
It’s become a haunt for us Volkovs.
I sit between Clementine and Cora, across from Jade and Aella, sipping a cocktail that might as well be magic.
They’re all talking at once—catching me up on everything I’ve missed the past two days.
Accepting my half-assed excuses that I was just catching up on some needed me time.
Still, I’m only half there.
The other half?
It still burns with the weight of him.
“Okay, I know we said we wouldn’t ask,” Aella says, eyes narrow as she sips from her martini like it’s truth serum.
“But Lee-Lee, tell the truth. Where the fuck were you the past two days? And don’t try to sell me that ‘I needed a nap’ bullshit. You don’t nap. You never have! And not for a whole fucking weekend.”
Caught.
Clementine leans in, her dark curls bouncing with her exaggerated gasp.
“Yeah, what she said. Also, you’ve got that look.”
“What look?” I ask, trying to feign innocence, but my voice is already shaky.
“That post-sex, maybe-I-sold-my-soul glow,” Cora says, raising her brows. “They have it too. Now, Lee-Lee, you’re practically vibrating. Spill.”
Jade just stares, biting her bottom lip , swirling her cocktail slowly like she’s waiting for a murder confession.
I take a breath and look around the table at my cousins—my girls.
My ride-or-dies.
They’re all so wildly different, but when it comes to loyalty? No one beats a Volkov woman.
And I don’t want to lie. I can’t lie.
So, I go all in.
“I left Lucy’s party,” I say. “And apparently Nico was waiting by my car.”
“Nico?”
