Page 40 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Anika.” Her brows scrunched. “While you’ve been out here living your life, I’ve been unable to scrub that moment in the club from my mind.”
Pulling against his hold, he released her this time, not wanting to cause too much of a scene. And it was satisfying to see her stumble backwards, her eyes wide for a moment before settling into their telltale annoyance.
“Obsessed much?” She flicked her ponytail over her shoulder, the muscles in her arms catching in the distant street lamp light.
“I consider myself more…diligent than anything.” Standing again, Mikko looked down at her. “Besides, I’m protecting what’s mine.”
“What?”
“My company, my friends, me.”
“You don’t get out much, do you?”
Did she and Cristiano hang out? Pick from the same vocab?
He ignored her. “If you fuck with me, Anika, I hope you’re prepared for what’s to come.”
A muscle in her jaw clenched, her teeth holding back whatever retort was resting on her tongue. He used her moment of indecision to walk back to his bike, heart racing and blood thrumming in his ears. He needed to leave before he did something he regretted. Before he let her in more than he already had. Her claws were sharp, and hehated how he found himself enjoying the sting.
Swinging his leg over his motorcycle, he spoke one last time. “I’ll see you around,” his kickstand clicked up into place. “Consider it aprecaution.”
Anika reached for him as the roar of his engine echoed throughout the city block, drowning out whatever she tried to say. It didn’t matter anyway. He’d be in the shadows regardless.
Obsession or precaution—it mattered not for him.
15
A Life Worth Living
Anika
Anika had spent the rest of the weekend gardening, anything to get her mind off Mikko’s random appearance outside of her gym. As autumn fully settled in around her, the last of her produce blossomed. It’d been a good year, her gourds the last thing left to harvest.
Many of her flowers had bloomed and returned to their leafy states in preparation for fall. A few weeks ago she’d collected the last dregs of her violets, drying them out and saving them for garnishes and drinks.
But even the solace her plants usually brought her wasn’t enough.
Mikko loomed in the back of her mind, her eyes wandering over her shoulder every so often in hopes of catching him driving by or strolling through her yard like he owned it. She knew this game of cat and mouse was dangerous; she’d provoked a beast—a man with endless resources and a traumatic background—but it’d be worth it.
Besides, it was nothing her feminine rage and handgun couldn’thandle.
Packing up her things, Anika noticed it was almost time for her to leave. Like clockwork, every two weeks she paid a visit to Evergrove, and this week it was no different.
* * *
THE JARRING SOUND of the front door’s buzzer beneath her fingertips brought back memories Anika wasn’t sure she was grateful for.
The antiquated facade of Evergrove Assisted Living sprawled out in each direction of her peripheral vision. The facility boasted historic building construction, but all she felt while looking at it was cold. Ivy clung to the stones, somehow brave enough to grow, thrive even, this close to death. While everyone inside may be alive, their minds were elsewhere.Tortured.
“Name, and reason for visiting?” a voice cut through on the intercom, scratchy from interference.
“Um, hey, it’s Anika, and I’m here to visit my mom, Ira Naidu,” she answered stiffly.
A pattern had fallen into place over the years, eight to be exact, but it never got any easier. She was never content to see her mom in the declining state she was in. As a child, it was normal to assume parents would die before their children, but this…
Anika’s circumstances were different. A fact she held close to her heart, letting it warm her on lonely nights. And there were too many of those.
The door mechanism unlocked quickly, the operator within the building content with Anika’s answer. Reaching out, her hand gripped the cold metal before pulling open the heavy door andslipping inside.
