Page 52 of Kings of Violence

How can I be so taken with every single facet of her? She’s just a woman. An attractive woman, but I’ve fucked plenty of those.

She draws me in, and I’m angry at myself for caring so fucking much, yet I can’t stop it.

I give her this comfort I don’t think she deserves, anticipating the moment when she rebukes me.

Her body tenses slightly at first, but then her shoulders slump. “I didn’t mean to say that,” she says, her voice rough. “You don’t have to pity me. Though I guess it’s marginally better than you being an asshole to me.”

“It’s not pity,” I answer. “You were never meant to see such things.”

But I would do it to her too, wouldn’t I? If I had Sean Winters in front of me, I would eviscerate him for everything he put me through.

There’s no point in worrying about that. Her brother is safelyimprisoned by the feds. If anybody is going to murder him now, it will be one of the men on the inside, with a makeshift knife.

“No. I wasn’t,” she says. “I was young. It was the most horrific thing I’d ever seen. My niece…” She shudders. “I try to understand Kyran’s choices, I really do. And I do believe that Silvano wasn’t responsible. But he didn’tseethem.” She leans against me slightly, and I inhale the scent of her hair.

I wrap my arms around her and pull her closer against me. A fierce protectiveness I don’t recognize rises up inside me.

No, that’s not true. I do recognize it.

It’s the same way I feel about Kotya and Nikolai—except I know they can take care of themselves. I know they don’t need me to protect them from the world.

I hate this.

She doesn’t deserve these emotions from me.

She’s as terrible as the rest of her family. I know she is.

But that doesn’t make me loosen my hold on her.

Sierra stays there for a long moment, letting me hold her, letting me try to comfort her in a way that feels awkward and strange. “We should… look for things,” she finally says. She starts to turn to face me, and I let her. It leaves us close, and she stares up at me for a moment before pulling away. “Sorry.”

I want to press my lips to hers. I want her to give all her feelings to me, whether it’s happiness or anger or this deep sadness.

I let her go and pace around the office again. “There can’t have been nothing here,” I say, my voice more angry than I intend. “And Kotya is right that this is a strange location to choose. It’s too far away from your house.”

She takes a deep breath and runs a hand through her mussed hair. “I never really thought about it,” she admits. “I mean… I just assumed he didn’t want to bring business home. He was very, very adamant about not mixing the two. Plausible deniability and all, I guess, and my mother—” She cuts herself off and shakes her head. “I don’t know what he’d keep here, though, that the feds wouldn’t have found.”

“Why not in the city then?” I ask. “I assume the accounting firmwas a cover for money laundering, but it’s not really a believable multi-million dollar business out here.” I glance toward the front of the building. “At least you don’t have to worry about walk-in clients, I guess.”

Her brow furrows. “You’re right, though. This is an odd location.” She laughs. “If this was a movie or a book or something, there’d be a secret wall or room or a password written on the back of the family photo.”

I look pointedly at the picture frame she’s still holding. She rolls her eyes and pops the back of the frame off.

“Oh, look, a secret code!” Sierra exclaims.

“What, really?” I stalk over and grab the picture from her. All it says, in blue ink, is 3/15/2014.

“No. It’s just the date the photo was taken.” She smirks at me, but the amusement doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “So why did he choose this place?” She bites her lip, tilting her head slightly. “It’s isolated, it’s unassuming… Maybe he just assumed they wouldn’t find it?” Almost immediately, though, she shakes her head. “No, that’s dumb.”

“Maybe your father was dumb,” I answer. I set the photo on the desk, then bend down to check for secret compartments. The only thing in the drawers are office supplies and a screwdriver. There’s nothing obvious on the desk itself, and the carpet doesn’t lift up underneath it either. No secret safe here.

She snorts. “Come on. Let’s try Sean’s office.” She heads in the direction of another door, sighing when she sees the mess that’s been left behind. “For fuck’s sake,” she mutters. “I see why everyone calls them pigs.”

“And just imagine, your American pigs are nicer than the ones in Russia.” I follow her, but the space is just as unassuming—and torn apart—as William Winters’ office.

Sierra walks over to the desk and sifts through some of the mess of papers. She shakes her head, and when I glance at her, she lifts up another frame. “Just a picture of his car.”

“I guess that’s more important than his family.” I push thepapers on the floor aside, but I don’t see anything significant underneath.

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