Page 72 of Beneath the Light of the Moon
“Sheworks pretty fast, but a larger payment upfront could mean same day return on info,” Devon responded before a door closed softly in the background. “Up to you.”
Mikko’s brow rose. “Can she get me something in two business days?”
“Of course. I’ll send you her bank information and you can wire the amount over.”
Mikko shifted lanes, his muscle memory taking him across town. “How much will it be?”
“I don’t know, she doesn’t post her prices up, just tells you what she wants.” The man on the other end typed something out, his keyboard clacking faintly. “But whatever you do,don’tquestion her. She’s great at what she does and doesn’t like to continuously prove it.”
“Got it.” His phone buzzed with a notification.
“Tell her I sent you.”
“Will she cut me a better deal?’
Devon laughed. “No, but she won’t immediately turn you away.”
“Great,” Mikko drawled before hanging up.
And there, in the text message Devon had sent him, was a name that felt a littletoofamiliar.
Rebecca Graymore.
A woman he’d taken home for one night years ago when he thought the world revolved around him until he’d woken up to his valuables stolen and a message in lipstick on his bathroom mirror reading:thanks for the good fuck…and the $$$.
Needless to say he never saw her again—or his missing items—but now it made sense for her to be in this line of work. She had a knack for finding things. He shook his head with an exasperated laugh; theworld really was too damn small for his tastes anymore.
* * *
AFTER REACHING OUT to Rebecca and sending her all the necessary information—he bet with Cristiano on if she’d remember him or his name—Mikko found himself driving along the highway. He should’ve gone home, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Instead, he let the road pacify his spiraling thoughts. Highway sign after highway sign flashed in front of him, briefly illuminated in his headlights, before fading back into the night. He wasn’t sure how long he drove for, but it didn’t matter. Driving always quieted his mind.
Until he realized where he’d subconsciously driven to. Anika’s neighborhood.
The tree-lined street welcomed him, the changing of the leaves yawning before his car as he parked nearby out of habit. Maybe he’d known all this time that this was where he wanted to go, that this was where he’d end up. While he waited for Rebecca to dig up details about Anika’s life, he might as well keep eyes on her himself.
Shutting his car off, he slipped from the leather interior, his movements nearly silent from practice. Leaves barely crunched underfoot as he wove around the clusters of them with ease. Mikko pulled his jacket closer as the wind tried to needle into his skin. These days, as soon as night fell in Portland, the temperature dropped with it.
Making the walk up her sidewalk, he leapt over the short fence before slinking into the shadowed vegetation lining her house. The scent of soil and foliage was a fragrance Mikko could get used to, and even though it was wrong to still be drawn to her, it reminded himof Anika. Everything she stood for had his heart racing, his obsessive habits satiated as he watched her, learned her, and became someone she might like.
If an outsider asked, it was all in the name of Romanov Real Estate. But to him, it was more than that.
Maybe she can be my ticket out of here.
To his delight, a couple of her windows were aglow, flooding the dark lawn around her house. It enticed him like the promise of a warm fire after enduring the cold for hours. Mikko couldn’t help but imagine the heat from her skin, and could practically smell the lush, sugary notes that were wholly her. Striding closer, he peered in all while risking his pale face reflecting in the illuminance. He was curious, even if it was a bad idea.
A glass of wine was clutched in her hands, fingernails glinting in the light with her legs crossed and looking across the room at something. Her hair was pulled up and away from her face messily, pieces of it still hanging free and tickling her cheeks, neck, and exposed back. Anika’s tank top was loose and casual, a sight that made his stomach tighten. The palm frond tattoos along her shoulder blades were on display as she sat sideways on her couch along with the floral pieces wrapping around each arm.
Mikko audibly swallowed.
The one on her spine was barely visible, only the first few words peeking out. Stepping out of sight, he quickly searched them up:Dulce int…sweet something.
It wasn’t enough to yield anything useful. With a sigh, he put his phone away and glanced around to make sure he was still alone. Only the chirp of crickets and the flutter of moth wings faintly echoed back to him. He let out a sigh.
But when his gaze landed back on Anika, he realized what she’d been looking at moments before. Or more sowho.
Levi strode across her living room, a matching glass of wine in his own hand, his mouth moving all while Anika listened. Even now, that man couldn’t shut up. Mikko’s fist clenched inside his coat pocket involuntarily.
Watching as the man plopped down on Anika’s couch like he lived there, Mikko let unrestrained anger bubble up in the back of his throat. He’d ask Levi to keep an eye on Anika, not cozy up next to her in her own damn house.
