Page 43 of Moros

“I’m trying to think if I’d seen anything that would now seem suspicious.” I didn’t look back at him. “I mean, how many red flags did I look pass and didn’t even know.”

“You can’t blame yourself.” Khadri tried comforting me. “Some dangers you wouldn’t have spotted.”

“But she would have.” I pointed out.

“Yes,” Khadri replied. “Because being my friend for all these years, she’s trained to. You aren’t. There are no special abilities or sixth sense.”

“I feel useless.”

I hadn’t meant to say that out loud—especially with Pasha around.

Khadri sighed and walked over to caress my right cheek. When I averted my eyes, he drew me into his warmth and used one hand to rub my back while the other travel up—across my shoulder to the back of my head to held me tighter.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my arms still at my side.

“Boswell says sometimes a hug can be helpful.” Khadri explained. “I don’t suppose he meant a hug from me. I’m pretty sure people feel the darkness when I hold them. But you look like you needed a?—”

I wrapped my arms around him.

Pasha appeared at the door then and I peeled myself from his arms and darted off down the hall.

It isn’t enough.

The hug hadn’t been long enough.

I want more.

9

KHADRI “MOROS” WESTON

It was a few days later when the pain came back. Ryanne had been job hunting and when she escaped the house for interviews, I had Boss send someone to make sure she was safe.

Of course, I didn’t tell her that.

We were still working to trace Sloan and any of his men we could locate, but the regular channels were failing us.

A part of me wished Hulk or Cider had survived the crash—and my plan wasn’t for them to die. But they weren’t wearing their seatbelts.

I wanted to punch something—hard.

Following the money didn’t work—Sloan dealt in cash and what he didn’t want to pay for, he stole. So, that wouldn’t work on him or the people he worked for.

They tend not to make mistakes—or the usual mistakes.

With Sloan his only warning is a bullet between the eyes.

Money made people agree to strange things—most not knowing accepting a job with Sloan was a death sentence they willingly walked into.

But I knew, even if they were warned, their answer was always the same.

I needed the money.

In the middle of the night, I woke to a migraine.

I wasn’t sure where it came from—I hadn’t been hurting when I crawled into bed. Irritated, I rose, changed into swim trunks and escaped the house to the pool in the backyard. After grabbing a towel, I set it on the edge of the pool and slipped into the deep end, praying the cold water would do something to help.

I couldn’t take a pill—waking up to Ryanne screaming bloody murder to me sleepwalking wouldn’t be the best way to wake up—I sighed.

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