Page 47 of Corrupted Heart

We need to meet. Now. Usual room at The Standard.

My teeth grind.

Fuck.

Ares may want to minimize our “entanglements” with the Italians to make sure things don’t get more fucked up than they already are. The problem is that it’s not just my hidden darkness and secret nocturnal activities my family doesn’t know about.

They also don’t know that shit is already more fucked up.

Extremely so. Catastrophically.

And something tells me, as I glance at the text from my lawyer, that it’s about to get way worse.

9

KRATOS

“Did you follow protocol getting into the hotel?”

I nod as Taylor smooths a lock of red hair back into place, glancing out the big window of the hotel suite and down to the Meatpacking District below.

“Yup. Took a cab to the French restaurant down the street, slipped out the back door, stayed out of sight, and entered the hotel via the service entrance.”

“You’re sure you weren’t followed?”

“Positive.”

She turns to give me a wary half-smile. “Just checking all the boxes.”

No, we’re not having a clandestine affair. In fact, I doubt Taylor Crown dates at all, given how married she is to her job.

Taylor’s the “Crown” in the hugely prestigious Crown and Black law firm, which my family uses extensively for both our legitimate and not-so-legitimate business needs. She’s also my personal attorney. Normally, for pretty much anything else, we’d be meeting at their plush offices in Midtown. But not today.

Not for this.

Taylor glances at her watch as my pulse chugs along like thick oil.

“She’ll be here any minute.”

Something sharp and barbed twists in my gut. A cold sensation and the need to escape from something unseen overwhelms me.

“Have you talked to your family about any of this?”

I shake my head. Taylor nods.

“Okay. Just curious.” She clears her throat, folding her arms over her smart, elegant, all-business charcoal gray skirt suit. “Like we discussed, she’s going to try and throw you with all sorts of scary threats. But remember, the CIA cuts deals all the time. Now, again, she’s almost certain to try and use the history between you to rattle you. So let me do the talking.”

I just nod slowly, staring past her out the window.

Yes, Taylor knows Amaya and I have “a history”. But she doesn’t know what the true nature of that history is.

Nobody does. Nobody alive, that is, aside from Amaya and me.

Jesus. One of these days, all the secrets I keep inside might drag me down…or make me explode. But until that day comes, nothing about the situation is going to change. Not even to my lawyer, who’s sworn to attorney-client privilege.

Yeah, Amaya and I have “history” all right.

A dark one.

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