Page 24 of Darkest Deeds

Niko

That was dumb as shit.

I tear out the back door of Seven ready to rip someone’s head off. Too bad Sergei’s not around. I’d gladly watch his roll across the floor then drop kick it across Biscayne Boulevard.

All I wanted to do was rile her up a little—crank her paranoia level up to eleven and make her question everything. Make her look over her shoulder for once.

Instead, I fucking lost control again, and I’m the one who walked away a mass of confusion—a conflicted machine unprepared on how to handle this rush of feeling.

I haven’t felt in eight years.

I sure as hell don’t want to start now.

“Taxi!” I turn around to see a strawberry blonde woman standing on the corner in a purple latex bodysuit cut so low in the back, I have no idea why it’s even there. She’s frantically waving her small hand, but cars speed by without giving her a second glance.

I walk toward her, stop a few feet away, and clear my throat to get her attention. It works, and she spins around, her thin hair swinging around behind her. I keep my hands by my side where she can see them and tilt my head back toward the club. “I don’t mean to pry, but there are a few of Miami-Dade’s not-so-finest still hanging around. Are you sure the street corner is where you want to be right now?”

“No, but Dmitry was my ride,” she huffs, flinging a wiry arm in front of her. “And who knows where he went.”

“Wish I could say I’m surprised.” But I’m not.

She lowers her wide eyes, scuffing the toe of her wobbly high heel against the curb. “Maybe you could give me one?”

Annoyed, I ask, “One what?”

“A ride.”

“Hard pass.”

“Why?”

“You shouldn’t take rides from strangers.” Especially me, but I’ll leave that part implied.

“Wait, are you Ava’s friend?” There’s a long pause. One I’m not comfortable with. I’ve found long pauses either mean I’m about to get hit with bad news or just fucking hit. Either way, this shit isn’t good. “You are!” she squeals, shattering glass from here to New Orleans. “You’re the orange blossom guy!”

My throat tightens. “The what?”

“Earlier, I saw her with this wilted white flower. I asked her about it, and she had this really funny look on her face. Said it was from someone she lost a long time ago who’d come back for her.”

“She said that, huh?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I thought it was so romantic like in the movies. It sounded like destiny or something.”

The ironic thing is that she’s right. Regardless of the twisted and broken road it took to get here, mine and Ava’s paths have always been destined to collide again. Ten, twenty, or fifty years, it never mattered how long it took. Whether we walked in the scorching sun or fell in a blazing fire, I knew we’d eventually burn together.

“So you got all that from a dead flower?”

Her cheeks burn. “I also saw you coming out of room four tonight.” Normally, embarrassment shuts women up, but this one doesn’t seem to have an off switch. “What’s your name?”

I think about it for a moment. I could tell her the truth, but if she repeats it, she’s as good as dead. I could risk using my birth name, but that might do the job twice as fast. So, I settle on a half-lie.

“Nick.”

She smiles. “Well, Nick, I’m Rose. Now we’re not strangers anymore, are we?”

“No, I guess not.”

“And since I’m crashing on Ava’s couch, maybe you wouldn’t mind giving me a ride.”

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