Luksch is a convicted assassin,” Connor said, through clenched teeth. “He was ready to hurt her. He’s lucky he’s not dead.”
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever you say. Anyhow, your hero complex aside, I just wanted you to watch your back. Not that you give a shit, or need anybody’s help. And you’ve got better things to do than talk to me, so I won’t waste any more of your valuable time—”
“Hey, Nick. Don’t.”
Something in Connor’s voice made Nick pause. “Oh, what the hell,” he said wearily. “If things get weird, call me, OK?”
“Yeah, thanks,” Connor said. “But, uh…what about Erin?”
“What about her?”
“Novak hasn’t forgotten about her,” Connor said. “No way has he forgotten. Somebody should be assigned to guard her. Immediately.”
Nick’s long silence felt ominous. “You are seriously hung up on that chick, aren’t you, Con?”
He clenched his teeth and counted until he had his temper under control. “No,” he said, in a low, careful voice. “It’s just obvious to anybody with half a brain that she’s going to be on his hit list.”
Nick sighed. “You haven’t been listening, have you? You’re lost in your own fantasy world. Wake up. Novak is in France. He was spotted in Marseilles. He’s a monster, but he’s not an idiot. He’s not thinking about Erin. And don’t make me regret keeping you in the loop, because you don’t deserve to be there.”
Connor shook his head. “Nick, I know this guy. Novak would never—”
“Let it go, Con. Move on with your life. And watch your back.”
Nick hung up abruptly. Connor stared down at the phone in his shaking hand, ashamed of having blocked the number. He disabled the function and hit redial. Quick, before he could change his mind.
“Nick Ward,” his friend said tersely.
“Memorize this number,” Connor said.
Nick let out a startled laugh. “Whoa. I’m so honored.”
“Yeah, right. See you, Nick.”
“I hope so,” Nick said.
Connor broke the connection and let the phone drop onto the seat, his mind racing. Novak was filthy rich. He had the resources and the cunning to do the smart thing, to buy a new identity, a whole new life. But Connor had been studying him for years. Novak wouldn’t do the smart thing. He would do whatever the fuck he pleased. He thought he was a god. That delusion had flushed him out before. And that same delusion was what made him so deadly when his pride was stung.
Particularly to Erin. Christ, why was he the only one who could see it? His partner Jesse would have understood, but Jesse was long gone. Novak had tortured him to death sixteen months ago.
Erin had slipped through Novak’s fingers. He would consider that a personal insult. He would never let it go for the sake of expediency.
His leg was cramping again. He dug his fingers into the muscles and tried to breathe into it. He and his brothers had each other for protection, but Erin was wide open, laid out on the sacrificial altar. And Connor was the one who had put her there. His testimony had sent her dad to jail. She had to hate his guts for it, and who could blame her?
He covered his face with his hands and groaned. Erin would be at the very center of Novak’s twisted thoughts.
Just like she was always at the center of his own.
He tried to think it through logically, but logic had nothing to do with these impulses. He had to feel his way through it. If the Feds wouldn’t protect her, then he had to step into that empty space and protect her himself. He was so goddamn predictable. Erin was so innocent and luscious, calculated to push all his lamebrain, would-be hero buttons. And all those years of hot, explicit sexual fantasies about her didn’t help either, when it came to thinking clearly.
Still, the thought of having a real job to do, a job that might actually mean something to somebody, jerked his mind into focus so laser-sharp it was painful. It rolled back the fog that had shrouded him for months. His whole body was buzzing with wild, jittery energy.
He had to do this, no matter how much she hated him. And the thought of seeing her again made his face get hot, and his dick get hard, and his heart thud heavily against his ribs.
Christ, she scared him worse than Novak did.
Subject: Re: New Acquisitions
Date: Sat, May 18, 14:54
From: “Claude Mueller”
To: “Erin Riggs”
Dear Ms. Riggs:
Thank you for forwarding me a copy of your master’s thesis. I was intrigued with your theories on the religious significance of bird imagery in La Tene period Celtic artifacts. I just acquired a third century B.C.E. La Tene battle helmet with a bronze mechanical raven perched on top (see attached JPG). I look forward to discussing it with you.
In addition to the helmet, I have several other new items to show you. I will be passing through Oregon en route to Hong Kong, staying at the Silver Fork Bay Resort tomorrow. I am arriving late in the evening and leaving the following day. This is short notice, and I understand if you cannot make it, but I went ahead and arranged an e-ticket for the SeaTac-Portland shuttle for you tomorrow. A limo will be waiting in Portland to take you to the coast. We can examine the pieces together Monday morning, and then have lunch, if time permits.
I hope you do not find me presumptuous. Please come. I look forward to meeting you in person, since I continue to have the strangest feeling that I know you already.
I trust the same economic arrangement as before will be acceptable. JPGs of the items that I want you to examine are attached.
Sincerely yours,
Claude Mueller
Quicksilver Foundation
Erin leaped out of her chair and hopped for joy. The walls of the studio apartments in the Kinsdale Arms were too thin to permit herself howls of triumph, so she pressed her hand to her mouth to muffle the howls into ecstatic squeaking noises. She reread the e-mail on the screen again and again, just to make sure it still said the same thing.
This job was going to save her sorry butt, and in the nick of time, too. She was probably knocking the rotten ceiling plaster onto the head of her cantankerous downstairs neighbor with her jumping, but she didn’t care. Maybe the great Whoever had decided she’d had enough piss-poor luck lately, and it was time to give her a breather.
Edna demanded an explanation for this unseemly excitement with a disapproving meow. Erin picked her up, but she cuddled the finicky cat too tightly. Edna leaped out of her arms with a disgusted prrrt.
Erin spun around in a goofy dance step. Her luck was finally turning. Her eyes fell on the cross-stitch that hung over her computer, which read: “You Shape Your Own Reality Every Day.” For the first time in months, it didn’t
