Page 27 of Black Heart

“You’re playing with fire, Layla,” he says, his voice muffled but no less dangerous.

“I figured it was the only way to get your attention,” I reply, trying to sound confident even though my heart is beating through my chest. “You said you wanted to protect me, so I put myself in enough danger for you to decide to show up again.”

His mask glints in the moonlight. “You called. I came.”

“I didn’t call you. I just made myself an easy target.”

He laughs softly, the sound sending a jolt straight to my core. “You’re always an easy target, Layla.”

I bristle at his words but can’t deny their truth. “Why are you doing this? Why are you protecting me?”

“Who said I’m protecting you?” He takes a step closer, his breath hot against my face. “Maybe I’m just using you to get to them.”

“Them?”

“The people who are after you.”

“And who are they?”

He shakes his head. “You don’t need to know. Just know that they’re dangerous.”

“And you’re not?”

I hear the smirk in his next words. “I never said that.”

“Then why should I trust you?”

“Who said you have to?”

“I think you owe me some answers. You’ve been following me, breaking into my house, and sending me threatening messages. I deserve to know why.”

He takes a step closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body.

“You want to know why I’m here?”

His words send a thrill through me, and before I know it, I’m leaning in closer to him, my heart pounding.

He cups my face. My eyes flutter closed of their own volition.

And then he murmurs near my lips, “A man wants you, Layla Verona. For what you’re not supposed to have. You’ve taken something very important to him.”

The cold grip of the wind snatches away his heat.

“I knew it was about the AI,” I whisper to myself, backing out of his hold.

He hears me despite the crashing waves below. “More than that, Wraithling. If what I’ve discovered about you in a mere two days is anywhere near an indication of your talents, he’ll want you for more than what you’ve recorded.”

It’s enough to make me lift my chin and meet his eyes again. “What are you talking about? And who ishe?”

“Frank Morelli. A crime boss known as a Ghost Leader.”

“Ghost Leader?”

At my confused expression, he elaborates.

“Someone nobody sees, but everybody knows in theunderground. Ruthless, a true cold-blooded killer, and greed-driven in ways even nightmares avoid.”

Something fluctuates in this man’s voice as he explains. The first emotion that comes to mind isagony, but that can’t be right. His face is so cold, so closed off. He’s so smooth, I bet wrinkles don’t line his skin.

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