Page 20 of The Woman with the Wallet

“Miko,” she said, her swollen, split lower lip trembling a bit.

I knew right then that my diamonds were gone.

But, suddenly, all I cared about was finding out who the fuck had done this to her.

CHAPTER SIX

Max

I woke up slumped on the floor, half in my room, half out into the hallway.

For one blissful moment, there was nothing but confusion.

It wasn’t long, though, before the pain started to settle in. Each ache seemed to fight for dominance, my body unable to feel all of it at once.

The throbbing in my jaw, cheek, and chin from being stuck. The migraine screaming behind my eyes from being slammed into the wall. The burn of my split lip. The sharp, stabbing sensation in my shoulder that was either from having my arm wrenched up or the fall to the ground after I’d been knocked out. And, of course, on top of all of that, the burning in my throat, the sensation of gargling glass when I tried to swallow.

I pulled myself up onto my knees in the bedroom doorway, raising my hands to cradle my aching head, my body just rocking back and forth, trying to find some comfort.

I didn’t know how long I stayed there like that.

Eventually, though, I dragged myself to my feet and stumbled toward the kitchen to close and lock the door.

Not that I expected the guy to come back.

He’d gotten what he was after.

My whole body was crying out for medication or ice packs, but all I could seem to manage was to drop down onto the chair Megs had sat at earlier, pressing my palms into my eyes, trying to ease the migraine stabbing behind them.

When there was a knock at the door some time later, I just… knew it was him.

All I could think as I rose from the chair was that I was glad Megs and Nicole weren’t home. The last thing they needed to do was witness what this man was going to do to me when he found out I’d not only stolen his diamonds but gotten them stolenfromme on the same damn day.

There was no use not opening the door.

I had locks, but not strong enough to keep a mafia guy out.

Calling the cops would be pointless.

Pretending I was not home? Not an option.

So, I went to the door. I undid the locks. I sucked in a deep breath to try to steady myself for whatever was about to happen.

Then there he was.

Even more stupidly handsome up close.

The dim light in the hallway cast him partially in shadows. Maybe it should have made him look threatening, but I found it made him mysterious.

I was so focused on his face for a moment that I didn’t realize how relaxed his posture was until I spoke his name.

I hated how weak my voice sounded, like I was seconds from crying. Hell, maybe I was. I was so overwhelmed with shock, fear, and pain that I had no idea how I was going to react one second to the next. Even if I wasn’t a crier. Even if the last thing I would ever normally do was cry in front of some guy.

“Max,” he said, brows pinching. “Who did that?”

God, he had a great voice, too.

Both smooth and deep, with just a hint of gravel.

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