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
Flint’s POVBefore I’m fully awake, I sense something is wrong. The room is too still, the spot beside me too cold. Her flowery scent lingers, but not in the way it does when she’s present.I sit up and rub my eyes. A hint of light peeks between the curtains. I don’t remember the last time I slept so soundly. Rare for me to tune out noises in the background, even in sleep. Alert is alive.Her stuff, strewn across the floor last night, is gone. I slept through her packing. Throwing off the covers, I check the bathroom to be sure, but I realize what’s happened. She went to Ireland without me. On the dresser is a mound of bills.Jesus.She paid me like I’m a fucking prostitute.Snatching my jeans off the floor, I tamp down the spurt of rage threatening to escape—at myself, at her. My room key is in my back pocket. Will my passport and other forged documents still be there?I dress in hurried movements. The money sits on the dresser. Not taking what she’d left is stupid, even if having the
Sierra’s POVThe morgue is in the basement. I haven’t been in many, but the environment is perfect for dead bodies. Linoleum floors, white walls, bright lights. The distinct smell of disinfectant and decay latches onto my clothes, seeps into my pores. Later, when I take a shower, I’ll be expelling death.The attendant sitting across from me and Jay has a picture on the table turned face down. Jay was in the middle of calling Irish contacts when he got a text alerting him of a body being dragged out of the Belfast Harbor. We didn’t think it could be Valeriya. What were the chances?My phone pings in my purse, and I tense. Jay’s sideways glance is accompanied by the tiniest smirk. If we weren’t here doing this, I’d tell him to shut up. He knows I’m anxious because half of my brain expects Flint to call, to show up, to do something reckless even though he doesn’t have the means.The younger man offers a kind smile. His baby-faced good looks only reinforce my advancing years. “You’re Vale
Sierra’s POVA few questions in the van turns into a trip to a set of office buildings on the outskirts of the city when I seal my lips tight. Another thing Tris taught me. When you’re cornered, say nothing, not a single word. A crack in the dam will lead to a flood.From their line of questioning, I’ve gleaned I took Flint to either Russia, Cuba, or Switzerland. They haven’t nailed a definite country. These are the people in charge of international security?We’re headed into the fourth hour of this stalemate. Does the CIA work the same as the police? “Lawyer.”The petite brown woman across from me, who the other two guys have been calling Anu, sits straighter in her chair. “You want a lawyer.”“Yeah.Mylawyer.”“Might take a while.”“Or you can get me FBI Tris. I’ll accept one of those two people. But if you’re going to ask me questions regarding Flint De Luca, then I have nothing to say. I haven’t seen him in months. We aren’t exactly friends.” The fucking dam is breaking.Seal it up
Flint’s POVI’m fucking broke. Again. But I’m in Ireland, and I’m in Sierra’s hotel room sitting in the dark, waiting for the FBI or the CIA or whatever government organization cornered her in the PLA bar to bring her back.At what point do I stop waiting? I don’t know. I’ve been chasing my tail since I got here.Demid’s guard got me Jay’s phone number, helped me organize a private plane to Belfast, and drove me to the airport. Turns out, he wasn’t as inept as I thought. Once I was here, getting to Jay was easy.Figuring out what happened to Sierra? Hard and expensive. The temptation to put a bullet in Jay’s head for losing her was overwhelming. My anger has been on a rapid boil just under the surface since I arrived. He’s more suited to the role of a personal assistant than a bodyguard. Fucking useless. He’s been running around Northern Ireland like a chicken with his head cut off.After every decent option hit a dead end, I called Thomas Baldwin in Dublin to have pressure applied to
Sierra’s POVThe whole day has been a blur, from Eric's pompous expression when I admitted Lucas was mine, to Galina taking me through the steps to care for him, to the distance Flint has put between us.Or maybe I'm imagining his aloofness. Maybe I'm the person putting the space there. My world has tilted on its axis, and I can't shift reality back, make it level again.The thing I do know? I'm exhausted. Emotionally and physically drained. When Lucas goes to bed for the night, or however many hours before he needs to feed again, I head to bed. Flint trails behind me, his hands in his pockets.Eric tries to catch my attention, but I've been ignoring him all day. I don't give a shit if Lucas is biologically his baby too. Ever being with him in any way makes my stomach heave like I'm on a boat tossed around by the sea.Flint closes the door to the bedroom and then leans back against it. "You look tired," he says before pushing off and ambling toward me. He tosses his wallet and other o
Sierra’s POVFlint was somewhere in the building with the DNA samples. After a couple of hours, Eric gets up the nerve to speak to me. One plus of Flint insulting him-his confidence took a hit."We should discuss everything before he gets back." Eric sips the coffee he bought from the café across the street.He's so tall standing in front of me that I'd have to crane my neck up to make eye contact or stand up. Neither appeals to me. I don't look at him, and I stay seated in my chair."Or maybe we should wait for the results to make sure what we're discussing is appropriate." I flip through the Voguemagazine I found on a table."You realize Lucas is yours. Why would I lie about that?""Honestly, I don't understand why you thought any of this was a good idea. The inner workings of your mind are a bit of a mystery to me." I toss the magazine onto the nearest table and stand. "I'm with Flint. We're together. What you think you'll accomplish won't happen."He raises his coffee and takes an
Flint’s POVThe room Charles assigned to us belongs in a museum. Historical eras aren't my thing, but it's clear this place hasn't had any facelift since the house was built, which was probably a hundred years ago. From the doorway, everything seems clean enough, and nothing smells like mothballs or mildew. I sigh. These thoughts are just a distraction from the fucking fertility circus downstairs. A poor effort to calm the hell down, and it's not working.As I close the bedroom door, I realize I should say something to Sierra, but I don't have any idea where to start. My blood boils, rage coursing through me at Eric and her father creating this child without her consent. When she was at her lowest, they tricked her into signing away her rights to her future children. Their motives are inconceivable to me-and I've done a lot of shitty things in the name of profit or revenge. But this? Their plan is so misguided. How could either of them think a baby was the right solution?My brain s
Sierra’s POVIstare into my arms at the baby wrapped in a pale-blue blanket. He has dark hair, and his eyes are closed in sleep. His fingers have the tiniest nails, and I want to touch every one, count them, savor this moment. I'm so absorbed in the sight of a baby, it takes me a second to process Eric's words."What?" I glance up, a little dazed."Our son." Eric gives me an encouraging nod. "You weren't here for the birth, but I know you always wanted to name our boy Lucas after your brother."I laugh self-consciously and shift the baby to hand him to Eric. "This isn't my baby." When I try to pass the bundle, he steps out of reach. "He can't be my baby. It's impossible.""Not impossible," my father whispers. "You were searching for a surrogate when you two split.""Exactly," I agree. "Eric and I broke up, and we destroyed the embryos. I signed paperwork to have them destroyed."My father grimaces.Eric shifts his feet. "This isn't the reaction I was expecting.""I signed papers to ha
Flint’s POVWhile Sierra and I pack in our bedroom, I debate whether to let her come to Russia. There's so much we don't understand. I stuff more clothes into my duffel bag and glance at her as she wanders into the en suite to get her makeup.Curiosity is a powerful thing, and I'm definitely curious about what Eric has been doing. He didn't sound scared in his voicemail messages, or even full of his usual asshole bravado. No, he was excited. Why? I stop packing and lean against the dresser while Sierra continues to put things into her suitcase."Spit it out." She doesn't break her rhythm of sorting and discarding. "You're over there brooding about something.""Don't come to Russia."She laughs. "I'm going to Russia. He called me, not you, and he said you could come along for the show." She throws skincare products into her bag with a huff. "I don't care anymore about what he's doing. You're right. I'll fire him. I don't know why I haven't done it yet."She knows why. I understand why.
Sierra’s POVWhen I slip into bed, Flint tugs me close, but for the first time since we've been together, he doesn't run his hands along me in ways to make me think of sex. Instead, he wedges me in so tight my face is practically squished against his bare chest, and he smooths my hair before kissing the top of my head. Every bandage is gone, and sometimes I lie in bed tracing his scars, asking for their stories as my heart races at the danger and aches at the close calls. A world without him isn't a world at all."You okay?" he says. "You've been too fucking quiet since your mom left.""I don't know," I whisper. Turning toward him, I'm comforted by the steady beat of his heart in my ear. "Anytime I hear someone gave up the chance to be a mom, it makes my heart hurt. I just-I would have done anything to have a baby, to be a mom."He's silent as his hand strokes my back. "Sounds as though your sister had it rough after your mother left.""Yeah. I can't process it. Being beaten by your
Flint’s POVThe tension between Sierra and Opal is unmistakable. They're circling each other, current events, upcoming commitments, neither of them saying what they're thinking. Nothing has happened to Charles–was the first question Sierra asked-which is unfortunate. With him gone, I could eliminate Eric or have someone do it. She would forgive me. Having her father wrapped up in whatever bullshit scheme they've cooked up makes it too complicated to get rid of one without the other. Especially since I can't yet uncover what they're planning. I'm on the cusp of telling her to fire Eric just to see if that sets something in motion.With our sleuthing, there are no hints of secret deals. No more sinister connections Sierra doesn't already know. No paper trails. Unregistered or foreign bank accounts are noted somewhere. We haven't even come across more evidence of PLA involvement with Eric or her dad. What the fuck are they planning? Opal's here perched on Sierra's couch like a bird pois
Sierra’s POVEkaterina answers my last few questions with ease and then says, "That was Flint De Luca.""It was." I gather my papers together into a neat pile."Rare for me to find a man intimidating."I glance up and a smile plays on my lips. "Was he a little intense?""A little? Were we in the same room? The guy is all coiled rage and X- ray vision." She drops her phone into her purse and rises from her seat."Are you-are you safe with him?"Before I can answer, Jay chuckles on the other side of the large wooden table. "You were the only person in this room who wasn't safe today." He frowns as he picks up his pen. "And maybe me." With a shrug, he says, "Point is, he's not a threat to her.""Why would he leave so abruptly?" Her expression is thoughtful. "He gave me that appraisal once-over before he left, which meant something.""Probably wondering how easy it would be to remove your head." Jay's voice is matter of fact, and if it wasn't for the horror on her face, I'd laugh."We do
Flint’s POVSierra rises and steps around the chairs between us to roll my seat back and perch on my lap. "Tell me." Her fingers stroke my furrowed brow."He seems to believe that whatever he and your dad have cooked up, it'll bring you and him closer together." I clear my throat. "You'll pick him."She grins and wraps her arms around my neck. "Never in a million trillion years. There is nothing he could say or do to make me leave you and go to him.""He seemed very confident."Her lips quirk up in derision. "That's his thing-he's confident even when he's wrong. One of his worst qualities." Sierra's gaze focuses above my head. "Heisa win-at-all-cost sort of person, though." Her expression morphs into one of determination. "I wouldn't be with him even if he threatened to kill me."I tighten my arms around her at the suggestion. "He'd never get a chance. He'd be dead as soon as the idea entered his head."There's a sharp knock on the door. She tries to stand, but I increase my grip on h