I swallow. Then, before I can second-guess myself, I lean forward and press a quick kiss to his bristled cheek, then scurry out of the car like a coward, too scared to see his reaction.
What the hell is wrong with me?I berate myself as I jog into my building, completely ignoring the doorman’s greeting in my haste. My cheek is burning where his stubble scraped my skin. The man literally just fingerbanged me into oblivion in his luxury car, and I thought a chaste peck on the cheek was appropriate? That’s kindergarten-level compared to what he surely wants from me.
Rafael’s sexual taste can be downright deviant sometimes.
But as I get into the elevator, something clicks.
Back in the car, I was grabbing his shoulders, tugging his hair, grinding his lap—and he let me. Just like the other night in the supermarket, when my hands were all over him too.
Ten years ago, when we first started… whatever it is we had, he wouldn’t let me touch him. At least, not until near the end. Not because he didn’t want it—but because human touch made him uncomfortable.
So… is that a sign that he still cares about me? Because I know for a fact he still hates being touched beyond a cordial handshake.
Though to be fair, I don’t even need that as a sign to know he still cares about me.
For one, he wouldn’t give two shits about me hating him for something he didn’t do if he didn’t still have some lingering, maybe even tender, emotions towards me.
I didn’t kill your father. I didn’t kill your father. I didn’t kill your father.
The words loop relentlessly in my mind as I walk out of the elevator, unlock my apartment door, and head straight to my bedroom. I can’t shake them off. And truthfully, between Rafael’s unwavering confidence and Stacey’s sketchy insistence that I don’t look into my dad’s case… I’m starting to believe him.
I take off Rafael’s coat and lift it to my face. My heart stutters as his cologne floods my nostrils.
What the hell am I doing?
I toss the coat on my bed, turning my back to it as I make my way to the bathroom. A scalding shower might burn away the memory of his touch, the lingering scent of him on my skin—and hopefully the confusion clouding my judgment.
But even as hot water cascades over me, a more pressing professional problem pushes to the forefront of my mind: I abandoned my colleagues in the middle of an active mission.
Fuck.I’m already on shaky legs with Stacey and Greg.
My pulse spikes as I rush out of the shower, quickly drying off before checking my phone. There’s a voice message from Katie, sent less than five minutes ago.
I hesitate, then tap play, and my friend’s voice fills the room.
“Hey, babe. Are you okay? We got him. We got Jason—and theman who was with him. What a day, huh? I won’t be surprised if we get a bonus.” She chuckles lightly. “And get this—that fucker Jason was wearing a wire. So now we’ve got more than enough evidence to nail him and his little friend, whoever the hell he is. Matt is already looking into him, so we should have a name soon. There’ll be no squirming out of this one for either of them.”
She pauses, and I can hear the concern in her voice. “You are okay, right? Meet up with us at the office when you get this. Director Rodrigues reached out and specifically asked about you. We all agreed to cover for you, so I don’t think you’ll get in trouble… but it sounds like she suspects something. So, just… just come, okay?”
I sigh heavily as the message ends and get dressed in a fresh pair of clothes. After a brief hesitation, I walk over to my bed, pick up Rafael’s coat, and carefully fold it before tucking it into the back of my closet.
Then I leave my apartment.
“You did a great job, Emily.” Stacey beams at me from behind her desk. “I was getting ready to head back to Virginia, but I had to stay to see you.”
“Thank you,” I murmur, shifting uncomfortably. I never know how to handle overt praise.
“Jason is the man we wanted, but I heard we got an extra. Not bad for a day’s work,” she comments, swiveling her chair. “I’ve already told Greg to inform me as soon as we have an ID—especially if he’s one of the men on our radar.”
From my brief conversation with Katie before coming up here, I know the man is Russian. And I suspect he might be the new Russianpakhanwhose face isn’t that well known.
Recalling Jason meeting with that Russian in his office—while Rafael and I hid in the damned closet—makes me more confident that my hunch is right.
But I just nod silently, keeping my thoughts to myself.
The Russian mafia hasn’t really been on our radar the past few years, for some reason—even though their crimes have been far more deplorable than the Nightshades’. If this guy turns out to be thepakhan, it would be a lucky break for us.
Stacey gets up and walks around the table, then half-sits on the edge of her desk. She’s closer to me this way—too close—and staring down straight into my eyes.
