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Romanov. I hit answer. “Iosif?—”

“Listen to me, please.”

“Are you doing this to threaten me with Tatiana?”

“No. Listen. Put off making a move on the bratva. Things are unstable right now. Let me help by putting one of my men in charge. Not you, not a Murphy, not until things stabilize and I find out who planted that bomb.”

I frown. “But Murphy’s protecting me. And this marriage is good.” I cross my fingers.

“Meet me tomorrow to talk.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say as I hang up.

Outside, thunder rumbles and I replay the conversation in my head, trying to think. Unstable, how? And where’s Seamus?

My phone buzzes again. It’s Claudetta.

R U coming to the diner 2nite? Wanna meet?

I shoot off a quick response.

Not working, but I’ll meet you in ten.

It’s what I need. Something not to do with any of this. I race down the stairs, praying the code’s going to work. It does. The heavens open up right as I reach the diner, but there’s no one inside when I peer through the front window.

I open the door, the jingle of the bell above the door shattering the eerie silence. No customers. No Claudetta. I reach into my pocket to call her.

Fuck, my pocket’s empty. I must’ve left my phone back at the house.

“Johnny?” I call out. There’s no answer. He’s probably smoking in the back and can see me on the camera feed. I wave at the security camera, grab a coffee from the pot that’s been brewed, then sit down at the counter.

But the minutes tick past. I was late. Claudetta’s even later. Too late.

I can’t even call her because the diner doesn’t have a landline. All calls go directly to Johnny’s cell phone.

Unease makes my stomach flip.

Still no customers. With a storm outside and rain pelting down, there are usually a few people here sheltering, and Johnny should be back by now.

Something’s wrong.

A shudder ripples through me and the urge to run grabs hold. Heart pounding, I run toward the door on shaky legs and reach for the handle when it crashes open. It’s so dark outside, I didn’t even see the silhouette of someone lurking.

A fist cracks against my face before I can open my mouth to scream. I crumple to the ground, stunned, the pain searing. I try to get up, but a tattooed hand grabs me around the neck and lifts me off my feet. I claw at his hands, my feet kicking furiously.

What the fuck?

TWENTY-ONE

seamus

This fucking woman.

Fury engulfs me as the fuck grabs her by the throat. After punching Ava in the goddamned face.

There was a body lying in the rain in the gutter between two cars, a girl, and I wasted precious seconds checking to see if she was alive.

The street’s dead, everyone hunkering down from the storm that brewed up out of nowhere and currently covers all of New York.