Page 72 of Vengeful Embers

“If I help you, how do I know you won’t cross me?”

“You don’t,” the woman says. “That’s what trust is about. Right now, you don’t seem to have a lot of people you trust.”

“What do you want from me?” I asked.

“Do what you do best,” she says. “You’re going to be the biggest dick on the planet. It’s time to scare out the cockroaches. The first thing you’re going to do is warn Tara,” she says.

I listen to her plan wondering if I’m mad to do this but the more I listen to her the more I realize she’s right.

“When this is over,” she promises, “we’ll get the Dragunov territory back.”

“Wait!” My eyes shoot up. “You’re from Dragunov Territory?

“Born and raised,” she tells me. “I’ll be in touch.”

The line goes dead, and I sit looking at the phone as it goes to magically conjure her name. But obviously it doesn't. I take a deep breath. “Time to go be a dick.”

TARA

The burner phone stares up at me from the kitchen counter like it’s taunting me. One week. That’s how long it’s been since Konstantin gave it to me, and it’s also how long I’ve gone without hearing from him. I keep telling myself I don’t care. That I’m mad. That I want nothing to do with him or the mess he pulled me into. But my hand still twitches every time it buzzes.

Nothing. Again.

I wrap my fingers around a dotty ceramic mug and flick the kettle on. Tea. That’s what I need. Something warm. Something soothing. Something that isn’t this swirl of confusion and fury and... longing. God, I hate that I miss him. I knew what I was getting into. He never pretended to be a nice guy. But still. He had this way of making me feel like I wasn’t just a means to an end even though we both knew I was.

Steam curls up from the spout, fogging the window. I pull the tea bag through the water and stare out at the tree line behind the cabin. The late afternoon sun makes everything look a little too golden, a little too peaceful. Like nature’s mocking me for how fucked up everything’s become.

I press the mug to my lips just as a blur of motion flashes past the window.

My heart drops into my stomach. I jump back from the sink and grip the counter, breath frozen in my chest. Then I see him.Stocky, blond, square-jawed—Clyde. I press a hand to my chest and try to calm the thundering in my ribs.

He raps twice on the back door. I unlock it and swing it open.

“Clyde,” I breathe. “What are you doing here?”

He gives me that easy, good-ol'-boy smile. “Just came to check in. Thought you might want to go for a walk. Clear your head.”

I glance out. The wind’s picking up and the air smells like a storm is building.

“Not right now,” I tell him. “I was just making tea. Want to come in for a cup?”

He shakes his head. “I’m in a walkin’ mood. Another time.”

I nod slowly, trying to keep the tension out of my voice. “Sure. Another time.”

He gives me a nod and strolls off down the path.

I close the door and bolt it, leaning against the frame for a beat. What the hell am I doing out here? How did I go from finishing my PhD to hiding out in some no-name town with burner phones and secret watchmen?

I grab my tea and head into the living room, still dunking the teabag out of habit. I have a destination in mind. The comfortable, warm couch. I walk, head down, staring into the swirling liquid like it holds answers I can’t find anywhere else.

“Don’t freak out.”

The voice punches through the silence like a gunshot.

I scream and launch my mug in the direction of the sound. Hot liquid splashes through the air, and the cup clatters against something solid.

“Fuck—Tara!” he groans.

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