Page 19 of Untamed

No. I don’t even know her.

I stare at my screen, willing her to reply to me, when I see another notification pop up.

It’s her.

Heartbeats thundering, I click on her video.

There she is.

My girl.

Flaming red hair hanging down in waves, those vibrant green eyes boring straight into mine. I don’t even hear what she says,and I don’t read the caption. It’s another book, but this time, I notice something in the background.

It’s a tiny white cup in the corner of the screen with the wordsBrookie Bitesin typewriter font letters.

I screenshot the video and zoom in. It’s blurry, but I know exactly what that logo is because it belongs to the coffee shopright down the street from me.

No. There’s no way.

I click on her profile, but she doesn’t have her location on, just a generalSouthern California.

Good girl.

My heart races faster.

IknewI saw her before.

Where?

My phone dings and buzzes, and I practically drop it while I ignore my brothers’ messages and quickly google the coffee shop. Surely, there have to be?—

No.

There’s ONE, and it’s right here in California.

It can’t be.

She’s right here in my city.

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. I have to get it together, andnow.

NOW.

With effort, I click on the screen and go to the messages from my brothers.

Thankfully, they’re talking amongst themselves and haven’t noticed my absence.

Rafail sent me specs on the third asshole I’m tracking down today. This one will be harder. The first, a middle-aged accountant with ties to multiple shell companies, folded like a cheap suit after a few broken bones. The second, a wannabe tough guy hiding behind a fake identity, couldn’t last more than a few minutes under pressure.

But this guy? He’s a slippery son of a bitch. Arnold Prokhorov, ex-Bratva turned freelance operator, knows how to disappear. Multiple aliases, offshore accounts, and a knack for slipping through cracks, even the best trackers struggle to follow. He’s been playing cat and mouse with the family for years, leaving a trail of dirty deals and dead partners.

But hey, I like the challenge.

Slipping a knife onto the counter that I’ll bring with me, I send a quick reply to Rafail:On it.

Gym first.

Prokhorov second.

---