Page 27 of Defiant Devotion

But why?

She wouldn’t run away unless she was scared and had a damned good reason to want to hide.

What the hell is your story, goddammit?

What are you hiding?

Who are you trying to screw over, Sonya?

I’d have to wait for answers. She was gone. Already, cops, security guards, bouncers, and bodyguards were settling down the chaos out in the main room.

Pocketing my gun and easing off to the side, I filed into the line of guests who were panicking about guns being fired. Management from the club herded servers, dancers, and guests away from the thick of the fight. I blended in with the mass, making sure I wore a slightly confused and alarmed expression so I’d look like just one more frightened guest among the others.

Before I could be excused—or slip away—I caught enough of what everyone was saying to piece together the story. It sounded like someone had come in to fire at Eric Benson, who was surrounded by members of law enforcement. He lived. Others insisted that the shots were fired at O’Malley, who was shouting and raging at the club manager. He also lived.

Both of those claims were one and the same. Eric and O’Malley had been seated at the same table, so a shot taken at one very well could’ve been a shot aimed at the other. As soon as the first sound of gunfire had happened, others got their guns out and fired at where they thought the perp was. It was the perfectchaotic storm for too many guns to be fired in too small of a place, hence the general confusion and danger that had taken over the whole place.

What, someone else is trying to take a hit on my target now?

Lev contracted me to kill O’Malley, and I would. But I’d be damned if someone else tried to pull off that feat before I could.

After it seemed like there was nothing else to learn or overhear, I watched Eric and O’Malley exit. Guards and cops flanked them, and I knew their security would be ramped up after this.

Now it’ll be even harder to get a lock on O’Malley.

I left, scowling as I headed out of there. I’d just come from the Baranovs’ place, but I planned to speak with them again. Updates were a decent excuse to get closer to them, and I sort of had one now. Others might succeed in killing O’Malley before me if those shots had been intended for him, not Eric. But they didn’t know that the Ilyins planned to marry Sonya off to him.

Which is not going to fucking happen.

I huffed, finding the thought a joke.

Now that I’d had her, twice, I refused to entertain the idea of some slick politician having the woman who seemed so perfect forme.

Secrets and all, Sonya felt like mine.

But before I could let her in on that concept, I had to sleuth around a bit more. Not only to know why she was hiding and staying distant from her family, but also how I could get her to stay and come back.

Once wasn’t enough.

Twice wouldn’t do either.

There was something about that woman that was twisting me all up inside. She’d captured my attention. If I wanted to be poetic about it, I could admit that just seeing her twice, she’d put a damn spell on me—whether I wanted her to or not.

11

SONYA

This time, when I ran again, I made sure not to stop until I’d put more distance between me and that restaurant. And the strip club where my not-so-one-night stand returned to my life.

Rain fell again. The fall of frigid drops seemed never-ending. While I cursed how soggy this spring was, it didn’t prevent me from getting a room at a seedy-looking, rundown hotel near Brooklyn.

With a lockable door and running water in an attached small bathroom, this room was an upgrade from my former lodgings, where I was stuck in captivity on that Ilyin property. A phone sat on the table, but I had no numbers or contacts to call. A mini fridge hummed under a crooked counter that doubled as a TV stand, but I had no food to put in there.

The cash I stole from the Petersons was all but depleted. In the two days that I stayed in this room, trying to catch a break and think out my next steps, I used it all up. The room wasn’t cheap. I had a strong hunch the clerk was gouging me on the price, but I couldn’t control that. Without an ID, without a credit card,withoutanything, I was stuck paying under the table for this dump.

All the protein and breakfast bars were gone. The apples too. Keeping one water bottle to refill saved me some money, but the water seemed brown when it ran from the faucet.

It’s not enough.I had to care for this new life growing in me. My baby—Ben’s baby—needed more nourishment.

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