That someone was Chrissy, Audrey’s best friend and one of the head accountants. A woman who would definitelynotbe reaching out to me, after recent events, unless something waswrong. The room feels colder than it had a moment before. My thumb hovers over the keys.
Are you alone?
No response.
I type again.
Is Lev bringing you?
Nothing.
I type out another message, this one to Lev, asking where Audrey is—if he’s with her.
Again, nothing.
My blood begins to shift, heating, flowing faster. My ribs expand with a breath that comes too tightly. Something is wrong. Deeply, sickeningly wrong.
Lev never fails to check in. He’s the best I have, loyal to the bone. Trained like a dog for war.
And he wouldn't leave her. Not unless...
My phone remains dark.
I hit the comm. "Activate perimeter lockdown. No exceptions. Evac protocol one."
The house obeys me.
Steel shutters slide into place with ahush. Internal motion detectors ping to life. The townhouse narrows its gaze like a predator in the grass.
Is it overkill? Maybe. Perhaps Audrey just had a long day or is pissed about something that happened at the office, ready to come after me. Maybe she found out that I’ve insisted she has a six-month maternity leave, fully paid.
Giuseppe’s wry smile swims into my memory; his warnings about the blessings and downfalls of having a family. Is having a child making me paranoid before they’ve even arrived?
I pull my Glock from the drawer beneath the bar, clip it under my jacket, and slide a blade into the sheath hidden in my boot.
Just in time.
The doorbell rings.
Not the side entrance. Not the garage. Thefront door.
Audrey knows, after last time, that she should come in the side. And Lev would never bring her to the front.
I move silently down the hallway, each step a calculation. My hand rests at my side. The gun is ready. I don’t need backup, not yet. If this is what I fear, calling for more men would truly be overkill.
Or not enough.
I open the door.
And there she is.
Audrey stands shivering in a pale, thick sweater and house slippers, her buttery leggings hugging her curves. Her hair is half-pinned back; half, because it’s fallen. My eyes flicker over her features. Her wide eyes. Her chattering teeth.
“Where’s your coat?”
It’s a stupid thing to ask, but the instinctive, protective side of me kicks in before the logical side does. Her eyes look up into mine and scream what her lips didn’t.
Run.
