Fold

Then again maybe the cold is good for my anger, because right now it’s rising like a tidal wave. The nerve of Jess. Where does she get off doing that to me? For fuck’s sake, I’m a lesbian. Did she really think I’d be okay with a guy—one I’ve never even met before—performing oral sex on me and God only knows what else? Boss or not—correction, bosses or not, that is not okay.

Freaking porn industry, it’s filled with nothing but drug users, douchebags, and manipulators.

Perhaps that’s a tad judgmental of me, but I’m exasperated and upset.

And sad…because I loved my job.

The realization is a punch to the gut. Not only did I love being the social media manager for Pretty Kitties, but I was damn good at it. It gave me a sense of accomplishment and pride.

But now I’m jobless. Without purpose. Lost and wandering aimlessly. I look around. Both literally and figuratively, because I don’t recognize anything nearby.

I clench my fists, my head spi

I suck in a breath and try to stop the air from whirling around me. Gosh, I don’t feel so good. As if agreeing with me, my stomach trips over itself like a sorority girl at a keg party. What happened to all the pretty lights and that dome-shaped building that was my hotel? I’ve only been walking for fifteen minutes or so, how far could I have gone?

Evidently far enough because not only is this street not well lit at all, it looks rundown.

Shit. I must be off the Strip. Another round of the spins hits me, and I hold out my arm, bracing myself against the side of a building that’s positively not open for any kind of business. Same can be said for everything in the near vicinity given how eerily quiet it is. This is my own fault for not paying attention. Fortunately, I have my phone with me, so I’ll call an Uber. I’m sure they encounter this kind of thing all the time, so they’ll have no problem figuring out where I am and bringing me back to the hotel.

I just need the twirling in my head to stop for two seconds so I can fish my phone out. Easy peasy.

I don’t want to let go of the building because it’s the only thing keeping me upright, so I reach inside my purse with my free hand. I do a mental fist bump when I locate the sleek object. As soon as I go to take it out, however; something or rather, someone, pummels into me and I lose my bearings and fall.

“Thanks a lot, asshole.”

The asshole in question doesn’t hear me because he’s ru

I’m in worse shape than I thought. In fact, this pavement is looking like a mighty good place to crash right about now.

I shake my head, cursing myself when it elicits another round of spins. Shucking the gravel off my hands and knees, I watch Forrest continue his sprint and rise from the ground.

Only to be walloped by another person the second I stand. Fuck a duck, I’m not made of glass. Surely, they can see me. Rude nincompoops.

“Seriously? Does anyone have any ma

This guy ignores me and continues ru

Good lord, I wasn’t aware Vegas had so many marathon ru

The first guy is still ahead but not by much because the guy raging bolts like a ca

Serves them right. I look around to make sure the stampede is over before I stand again.

I pull out my phone once more, but furious yelling snags my attention and when I look at the men, my stomach drops.

The two guys are teaming up and throwing punches at the first guy who’s protecting his duffle bag with his life. Granted he’s big, and he’s holding his own just fine with his one free hand, but two guys against one isn’t a fair fight.

Stay out of it, Kit.

A scream burns in my throat when I see one of them pull out a gun. The guy being attacked doesn’t realize it though, because he’s too busy fighting off the other guy who keeps trying to pry the bag from his grip.

I don’t know what’s so important in that stupid bag, but it’s not worth dying for.

“Hey,” I scream, hoping I’ll startle them enough to scatter, but they’re too far away to hear me.

Don’t go over there, Kit.

My feet start moving on their own accord and while my brain is chastising me for becoming the girl in a horror movie who’s too stupid to live, my heart is thudding with panic as flashbacks of the shooting slice through me like a sizzling knife through butter.

The people who lost their lives will always live on in my guilty conscience, and I will eternally blame myself and wish I could have done something to prevent it.

Maybe this time I can.

Despite the whoosh in my head growing worse, I manage to locate my phone, preparing to call the police. “Give him the bag, he has a gun!”

Two things happen at that moment.

One—the guy with the gun says something in what sounds like Russian right before he points it at me.

And two—a second later, the duffle bag lands at the gunman’s feet with a heavy thud.

“It’s yours, Niko. Now, put the fucking gun down and go.”

The deep rumble of his voice roots me to the spot. I know that voice better than I know my own. It’s the voice that haunts me, plagues me, and twists my insides up so tightly I can’t breathe due to the swell of anger that strangles me whenever he crosses my mind.

It’s the voice of the man who saved me in a school cafeteria…and then turned right around and killed me in the most brutal way.

Straight through my heart.

I shake my head, desperate to hold on to some form of logic. It can’t be him. It’s not him.

I look up at the same time the men start to leave, or at least I think they do. My heart is thrashing so hard it reverberates through my ears and my vision is blurry, causing everything to be out of focus…

Except for him.

My head buzzes and there’s a weird hum in the air that seems to roll through my entire body. I stagger back, trying like hell to swim, but I can’t. I’m being swept away in the tide.

I peel my gaze away, certain it must be a mistake. This guy looks different. Older. Solid. A little edgier…dangerous even. Nothing like the lean, preppy guy in suits who continues to prowl the dark corners of my mind like a burglar.

I clutch my chest; my reality is so disorientated I can’t form cohesive thoughts. He’s saying something, I think it might be my name, but I can’t hear anything because the humming zigzagging through my head is getting worse. I try to walk away again, but my body doesn’t get the memo. I wobble instead and when I make the mistake of looking up—my worst fear is confirmed.