“See?” he said softly. “I’m not here to hurt you. I just wanted to see you again. Hear you call me ‘Tolya’ again.”
Her grip on the taser shifted in her pocket. Knife raised.
His smile wobbled with emotion.
“We have a little time,” he murmured. “So let me tell you, the girl—my adopted son’s daughter—she had something happen to her. Her mother was murdered. And the girl refuses to talk now. Shock, they think. But that’s not why…”
He leaned forward slightly as if telling her a secret that would stay between the two of them. “Her mother caught me with her.”
A scream built in Faolan’s throat, but she swallowed it down.
“She saw, and she knows what happens when you talk,” he said dreamily. “Like you, Faolan. You were so quiet after, too. So good to me.” He stood up slowly. “But we have to go now. We’ve run out of time.”
Then he said, his voice flat and chilling “If you don’t come out, I’ll have to start shooting.”
Faolan stepped out.
Knife in hand.
Her skin crawled. Her shirt clung to her back. Her hand shook.
“Put it down,” he said gently, almost fatherly. “You don’t want to hurt me. You’re not like that.”
She stared at him.
His possessive eyes swept over her.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispered. “None of them ever compared. Since I lost you…I never stopped dreaming of you.”
Tears trembled at the corners of his eyes. “You’ll grow your hair out again. Just like before.”
He stepped closer.
Faolan’s voice rose inside her head like a scream. Do it. Now.
Zzzt.
The taser jabbed into his chest.
He jerked. Eyes rolled back as he collapsed to the floor, twitching, gasping.
“You little—” he croaked.
She bolted. She tried to run past him, but he grabbed her ankle. She kicked loose and sprinted, her body screaming from the rush.
She wouldn’t make it to the lift.
There could be more outside.
She veered into the master bedroom.
Her drawer.
She yanked it open, pulled the gun free, clicked the safety off, and aimed.
Bang.
Blood bloomed across his right shoulder. His gun dropped with a metallic clatter.
