Flint’s POVThe next morning, Sierra wears dark glasses and won't meet my gaze. Is she pissed at me for what I said last night, or does she regret coming on to me? Probably both.We file into the car. Jay eyes the two of us in the rearview mirror but understands Sierra well enough not to speak. We're headed to the location where the FBI agent is holed up waiting for his forged documents to start over. Jay runs a tight ship for Sierra, and his ability to get shit done is impressive."How far away is this place?" I ask as the city fades into the distance."About half an hour," Jay replies."Perfect." I peek at Sierra's stony face and settle deeper into the seat. I slide my hands along my thighs, and I consider the least assholeish thing to say. "Sleep okay?""Shut up, Flint."Guess that wasn't it. "Jetlag can be a bitch."Sierra tips her glasses down her nose and looks at me over the top of them. My mind flashes to every sexy teacher fantasy I’ve ever had. As though she senses the tight
Sierra’s POVFlint's chest is pressed to my face. He's grappling for the gun at his waistband as his other arm helps shield me. It has to be the adrenaline. His injuries are still healing, and I've watched him walk enough the last few days to know he's stiff and sore. His movements are sure, fluid, painless.He glances at me, tucking his chin to meet my eyes. "Were you hit?"I swallow. My shoulder stings. Is the pain from a bullet or how he dragged me to the ground? "I'm fine."Flint breaks eye contact to scan the rest of the area. "Jay!""Here.""Ricardo?" Silence greets his second roll call. He has me pinned so close to the floor I can't see what else is happening."He's down." Jay shuffles to the door."Dead?" Flint says."Not sure.""Shit." Flint's free hand holds the gun, but our position means his back is to the entrance. "Any more shots?""Haven't heard anything for a minute.""Target?""Take your fucking pick. Could be you, Sierra, or Ricardo. You're all hot depending on who's
Flint’s POVSierra insisted on going to a Russian doctor she has on call to get me patched up before venturing to Valeriya’s again. I let him check me over while Sierra and Jay are out in the waiting room.“All clear?” I ease my shirt back over my head.“Minor issues,” the doctor says. “Be more careful. You’re not healed yet.”I grunt as I slide off his examination table. “You service the Evans employees?”The doctor scribbles a prescription for pain on his notepad, rips it off, and holds it out. “Yes. Why?”“Valeriya? I hear her father is some kinda’ mafia kingpin.” I don’t take my eyes off him, trying to assess his level of knowledge.The doctor’s face is granite. “I cannot discuss her with you.”“She’s a client?”“Enough that I cannot discuss.”I fold the prescription and tuck it into my back pocket. For a moment, I stare at him, wondering if I can get him to say more. My instincts tell me she’s making dirty deals. She’s been working an angle or more than one behind the scenes. Who
Sierra’s POVWe’ve made Valeriya’s apartment base camp while we sort through her papers, search for clues. Jay is phoning airlines, checking security footage, calling taxi companies. Flint’s on a conference call with an IT company. They’re supposed to be hacking into her phone records or her email—preferably both.Seems like Flint’s right about Valeriya fucking me over. But since we don’t understand why she vacated her apartment, he can’t declare a complete victory yet. Or at least, that’s what I told him. Really the two of us sitting down for a sober conversation over dinner, discussing things beyond this work, terrifies me. There’s only the tiniest thread of my willpower intact.As I sort through the papers in a desk drawer, I come across a pile that stops me short. The surrogacy documents she signed. Back when I was with Eric, Valeriya responded to an advertisement I ran for a surrogate to carry a baby for me. In the end, the timing hadn’t been right, and I changed my mind.But I l
Flint’s POVSierra goes into the office at the bank by herself. The building is shiny windows, gleaming metal, and polished floors. I’m not sure what I expected of a Russian bank, but not this modern.Jay and I are outside the door in case there’s any trouble. He’s glued to his phone, trying to chase up leads on Valeriya or the warehouse or any of the other fucking things going wrong. I miss having a device. Standing here with nothing to do gives me too much time to think.Part of me is annoyed Sierra didn’t see Valeriya for the lying bitch she’s turned out to be. Sierra has always been that way—loves hard, finds the best in people, even when she shouldn’t.The office door swings open, and she hitches her purse onto her shoulder. Jay and I flank her.“And?” I ask.She takes a deep breath. “She didn’t move the money.”“That’s a good sign.” Jay stops fiddling with his phone and tucks it into his pocket.“She cleaned out her accounts. There’s no way to trace her.”“At least you were righ
Sierra’s POVFlint orders a burger and a beer. I get a salad and mineral water. I’m tempted to feign a trip to the bathroom to have my drink changed to vodka and soda. He’d never suspect unless he got close enough to smell my breath. A personalized breathalyzer is entirely possible. Since the lobby, he’s been looking at me like he could devour me instead of the burger.“Well.” I place my phone on the table. “You wanted me sober. What were you hoping to discuss?”Flint smirks. “I didn’t need you sober for the conversation portion of the evening.” He turns his hand as though he’s flipping an imaginary object over. “Only for what comes next.”His eyes are ice chips as they sweep over me. Ice isn’t what’s running through my veins. Heat. So much heat I want to fan myself. Instead, I squeeze my thighs together and pray for the server to have understood mineral water
Flint’s POVRage courses through me, an old friend. Last time I felt this surge, I shot an FBI agent. I’d love to shoot someone again.Eric.I take another bite of my burger and chew without saying a word to her. She’s eating her salad in silence, an air of grief around her causing a corresponding ache in my chest. I hate that fucking pressure bearing on me.I do pretty much everything in my power to never experience regret and longing. Since she rescued me, they’re constant fucking companions. Whenever they rear their heads, I tell myself, that’s the stab wound or that goddamned gunshot just reopened.I’ve never been a fixer. Nolan is, Sierra is, but me? I’m usually the guy creating the chaos. My mind churns with ways to fix this feeling in me, in her. The best I can come up with involves going upstairs and using our bodies to forget, to remember, to fucking drown in each other.There’s only o
Sierra’s POVThe smart thing would be to ask him to leave my hotel room, to step back, to readjust my shirt. After he leaves, I’ll satisfy my lust in another manner—that’s the smart thing. The tiniest part of my brain still knows that even as the timbre of his voice sends a shiver of desire racing down my spine.Whenever Flint is this close, my mind short-circuits, and it’s all I can do to remember my name. The sharp, tangy scent of him, the way he worships and devours me, the way his skin slides over mine, makes my senses go into overdrive, hyperaware, poised for release.“Fuck me,” I whisper, rising on my toes to press my lips against the sensitive spot on his neck.“I didn’t hear you.” His voice is guttural, on the edge of losing the control he has left.Glancing up at him under my lashes, I smirk. “Then I guess you should leave so I can take care of myself.”He deftl
Sierra’s POVThe smart thing would be to ask him to leave my hotel room, to step back, to readjust my shirt. After he leaves, I’ll satisfy my lust in another manner—that’s the smart thing. The tiniest part of my brain still knows that even as the timbre of his voice sends a shiver of desire racing down my spine.Whenever Flint is this close, my mind short-circuits, and it’s all I can do to remember my name. The sharp, tangy scent of him, the way he worships and devours me, the way his skin slides over mine, makes my senses go into overdrive, hyperaware, poised for release.“Fuck me,” I whisper, rising on my toes to press my lips against the sensitive spot on his neck.“I didn’t hear you.” His voice is guttural, on the edge of losing the control he has left.Glancing up at him under my lashes, I smirk. “Then I guess you should leave so I can take care of myself.”He deftl
Flint’s POVRage courses through me, an old friend. Last time I felt this surge, I shot an FBI agent. I’d love to shoot someone again.Eric.I take another bite of my burger and chew without saying a word to her. She’s eating her salad in silence, an air of grief around her causing a corresponding ache in my chest. I hate that fucking pressure bearing on me.I do pretty much everything in my power to never experience regret and longing. Since she rescued me, they’re constant fucking companions. Whenever they rear their heads, I tell myself, that’s the stab wound or that goddamned gunshot just reopened.I’ve never been a fixer. Nolan is, Sierra is, but me? I’m usually the guy creating the chaos. My mind churns with ways to fix this feeling in me, in her. The best I can come up with involves going upstairs and using our bodies to forget, to remember, to fucking drown in each other.There’s only o
Sierra’s POVFlint orders a burger and a beer. I get a salad and mineral water. I’m tempted to feign a trip to the bathroom to have my drink changed to vodka and soda. He’d never suspect unless he got close enough to smell my breath. A personalized breathalyzer is entirely possible. Since the lobby, he’s been looking at me like he could devour me instead of the burger.“Well.” I place my phone on the table. “You wanted me sober. What were you hoping to discuss?”Flint smirks. “I didn’t need you sober for the conversation portion of the evening.” He turns his hand as though he’s flipping an imaginary object over. “Only for what comes next.”His eyes are ice chips as they sweep over me. Ice isn’t what’s running through my veins. Heat. So much heat I want to fan myself. Instead, I squeeze my thighs together and pray for the server to have understood mineral water
Flint’s POVSierra goes into the office at the bank by herself. The building is shiny windows, gleaming metal, and polished floors. I’m not sure what I expected of a Russian bank, but not this modern.Jay and I are outside the door in case there’s any trouble. He’s glued to his phone, trying to chase up leads on Valeriya or the warehouse or any of the other fucking things going wrong. I miss having a device. Standing here with nothing to do gives me too much time to think.Part of me is annoyed Sierra didn’t see Valeriya for the lying bitch she’s turned out to be. Sierra has always been that way—loves hard, finds the best in people, even when she shouldn’t.The office door swings open, and she hitches her purse onto her shoulder. Jay and I flank her.“And?” I ask.She takes a deep breath. “She didn’t move the money.”“That’s a good sign.” Jay stops fiddling with his phone and tucks it into his pocket.“She cleaned out her accounts. There’s no way to trace her.”“At least you were righ
Sierra’s POVWe’ve made Valeriya’s apartment base camp while we sort through her papers, search for clues. Jay is phoning airlines, checking security footage, calling taxi companies. Flint’s on a conference call with an IT company. They’re supposed to be hacking into her phone records or her email—preferably both.Seems like Flint’s right about Valeriya fucking me over. But since we don’t understand why she vacated her apartment, he can’t declare a complete victory yet. Or at least, that’s what I told him. Really the two of us sitting down for a sober conversation over dinner, discussing things beyond this work, terrifies me. There’s only the tiniest thread of my willpower intact.As I sort through the papers in a desk drawer, I come across a pile that stops me short. The surrogacy documents she signed. Back when I was with Eric, Valeriya responded to an advertisement I ran for a surrogate to carry a baby for me. In the end, the timing hadn’t been right, and I changed my mind.But I l
Flint’s POVSierra insisted on going to a Russian doctor she has on call to get me patched up before venturing to Valeriya’s again. I let him check me over while Sierra and Jay are out in the waiting room.“All clear?” I ease my shirt back over my head.“Minor issues,” the doctor says. “Be more careful. You’re not healed yet.”I grunt as I slide off his examination table. “You service the Evans employees?”The doctor scribbles a prescription for pain on his notepad, rips it off, and holds it out. “Yes. Why?”“Valeriya? I hear her father is some kinda’ mafia kingpin.” I don’t take my eyes off him, trying to assess his level of knowledge.The doctor’s face is granite. “I cannot discuss her with you.”“She’s a client?”“Enough that I cannot discuss.”I fold the prescription and tuck it into my back pocket. For a moment, I stare at him, wondering if I can get him to say more. My instincts tell me she’s making dirty deals. She’s been working an angle or more than one behind the scenes. Who
Sierra’s POVFlint's chest is pressed to my face. He's grappling for the gun at his waistband as his other arm helps shield me. It has to be the adrenaline. His injuries are still healing, and I've watched him walk enough the last few days to know he's stiff and sore. His movements are sure, fluid, painless.He glances at me, tucking his chin to meet my eyes. "Were you hit?"I swallow. My shoulder stings. Is the pain from a bullet or how he dragged me to the ground? "I'm fine."Flint breaks eye contact to scan the rest of the area. "Jay!""Here.""Ricardo?" Silence greets his second roll call. He has me pinned so close to the floor I can't see what else is happening."He's down." Jay shuffles to the door."Dead?" Flint says."Not sure.""Shit." Flint's free hand holds the gun, but our position means his back is to the entrance. "Any more shots?""Haven't heard anything for a minute.""Target?""Take your fucking pick. Could be you, Sierra, or Ricardo. You're all hot depending on who's
Flint’s POVThe next morning, Sierra wears dark glasses and won't meet my gaze. Is she pissed at me for what I said last night, or does she regret coming on to me? Probably both.We file into the car. Jay eyes the two of us in the rearview mirror but understands Sierra well enough not to speak. We're headed to the location where the FBI agent is holed up waiting for his forged documents to start over. Jay runs a tight ship for Sierra, and his ability to get shit done is impressive."How far away is this place?" I ask as the city fades into the distance."About half an hour," Jay replies."Perfect." I peek at Sierra's stony face and settle deeper into the seat. I slide my hands along my thighs, and I consider the least assholeish thing to say. "Sleep okay?""Shut up, Flint."Guess that wasn't it. "Jetlag can be a bitch."Sierra tips her glasses down her nose and looks at me over the top of them. My mind flashes to every sexy teacher fantasy I’ve ever had. As though she senses the tight
Sierra’s POVI'm on my third glass of vodka in the quaint restaurant down the street from the hotel my family frequents in Volgograd. The place is a bit of a dive bar, grungy even, but I love the Russian food. Their kebabs are exceptional. If the man across the table from me wasn't so distracting, I'd be in heaven.We've barely said two words to each other since we were seated and ordered. I'm praying for our meals to come faster even as I gulp more vodka. Drinking this much is a mistake, but I can't stop myself.Liquid courage."What are you thinking about?" As soon as the question leaves my mouth, I curse the alcohol. The stupidest, most girly ask in the world.The vinyl on the chair squeaks when Flint leans back and crosses his arms. "Trying to puzzle out your employee.""Valeria?"He raises his eyebrows.Another stupid question. More vodka makes its way past my lips."Who has more clout than you?" He picks up his drink. His pain must be substantial because he took painkillers and o