Page 59 of Run for Her Life
A knock.
She sighed, knowing exactly who it was, and opened the door.
“We need to talk,” Aiden said.
Moments later, they were sitting on the floor, their backs against the side of the bed, inches apart.
“You should see the other guy,” Zoe said out of nowhere, trying to lighten the mood.
“What?” He stared at her, confused.
“It’s like in the movies. I always wanted to say that line,” she admitted, staring ahead.
“You hear that?” he murmured, tilting his head toward the window.
“The storm?” she asked, her voice low. “We’re talking about the weather now? Just do it, Aiden. Say what you want to say.”
“What were you doing in that place, Storm?”
“Why were you following me?” she volleyed back.
He exhaled slowly. “I have been worried about you and you refuse to tell me what’s going on with you. So yeah, I followed you.”
Zoe shivered at their proximity. Close enough to feel the heat radiating between them, but not close enough to touch. “I go to this underground fight club to blow off steam. It isn’t that deep.”
“Then why did you lose on purpose today?” he asked. The silence between them stretched and Zoe’s heart sank.
She wasn’t ready for this conversation. But tonight, she was too tired and defeated to fight it. “Because I’m angry, Aiden.” Her eyes turned glassy. “This whole happy-go-lucky thing I have going on isn’t a façade. I swear it isn’t. I’m genuinely happy but… this darkness exists inside me and I don’t know how to get rid of it.”
“It looked like you were punishing yourself there, Storm.”
“I guess I was.” Her knee brushed his. Not by accident. “What do I do then? I really am a happy person. But that’s not enough. How do you actually move on?”
“Move on from what? You have to give me something.”
She gave him a look. “Why don’t you give me something for a change?”
He flinched and adjusted his glasses—an unconscious habit, Zoe realized. “I’m the shrink here.”
“I thought we were becoming friends.”
His jaw clenched. He turned his head, looking at her now, really looking. The space between them became as thin as a breath. “I’m a widower. That’s what you wanted to hear, right? Now who is Viktor Axenov?”
“The man who beat me up in Harborwood,” she confessed too readily. She turned to see his surprised face.
“And why did he do that?”
“Because I think he killed my mother.”
Lightning flashed, and for an instant, she saw the way his lashes flickered and saw him notice how her lips parted just slightly.
“And now he’s after you?” His voice sliced the thickening air.
“Kind of. I was looking into my mother’s life. She had so many secrets. I discovered something in Harborwood. An old acquaintance who gave me a key to a safety deposit box inChicago. My mother kept something in there. But somehow Viktor found out, beat me up, and took that key.”
“And now he is in possession of whatever object your mother was concealing?”
“I don’t think so.” Her gaze lifted to his, steady, unreadable. “He doesn’t know which safety deposit box it is. But he does have leverage. He’s been keeping an eye on me in case I start digging around her death again.”
