Page 78 of Coerced Queen

“Everything all right here?”the man who reaches us first asks, his hand already on the gun that’s hidden beneath his jacket.

“We’re fine,” I say, my voice unsteady.“Livy is a bit queasy.”

“It’s the sauna,” Livy says, wiping sweat from her brow.“It always makes me feel faint.”

“Do you need anything?”the man asks.“Water?”

“We’re fine, thanks,” Livy says.“I just needed some air.”

The men turn back for their car.

When they’re out of earshot, Livy looks over her shoulder at me.“Promise me we’re never doing that again.”

I’m shaking so badly I don’t think I can drive.Taking a few deep breaths, I calm my riotous nerves.

“Come on,ladybug,” Livy says with a mischievous wink.“Let’s get out of here.We shouldn’t gallivant around the city with a few million in cash in the trunk.”

ChapterTwenty-Five

Saverio

“Hey, grumpy.”

A can of beer smacks me on the chest.

I grunt, catching it before it hits the floor.

Nicole stands in the door, holding another can in her hand.

“The fuck, Cole?”I grumble.“Are you trying to break my ribs?”

She steps gingerly over the threshold in her high heels.“Oh, don’t be so dramatic.You’re not that easy to break.”

Rubbing the aching spot on my breastbone, I ask, “What are you doing here?”

She plops down on a chair and crosses her ankles on my desk before cracking open the beer she scavenged from my fridge.“You asked me to come over, remember?”

“I asked you to call me,” I rectify in a dry tone.

Slurping the foam that boils over the rim, she watches me with a shrewd gaze.“Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Always.”I set the beer aside.“But not when I’m busy.”

I get up and lean my weight on my cane to limp over to the wet bar.After this morning’s workout, I need a stronger drink.

“You’re always busy, and so am I,” Nicole says.“So you better not waste my time.”

I pour a brandy.“I told you to pick up the phone, not to drive out here.”

When I struggle back to my desk with the glass in my hand, Nicole juts her chin toward the cane.“It’s way too early for that.You should be in a wheelchair or at the very least on crutches.”

My laugh is wry.“You sound like my physio.”

“Maybe you should listen to him.”

I sit back and sip my drink, enjoying the vanilla and burnt caramel flavors on my tongue.“I need your help.”

“You and Anya both,” she says, tipping back the can and taking a long swallow.

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