Page 203 of Sexting His Assistant

The apartment is dark.

“Misha?” I call again.

Still nothing.

I step inside and reach for the light switch. The living room floods with light.

My breath stops.

The room has been trashed.

The couch cushions are on the floor. The coffee table is overturned. Books and papers are scattered everywhere. One of my lamps lies broken near the wall. A drawer from the console has been pulled out and dumped. Misha’s bag is open on the floor, clothes spilling out of it like someone ripped through everything in a hurry.

For a second, I can’t move.

My heart pounds so hard it feels like it’s hitting my ribs from the inside.

Then I hear something behind me. A soft shift of movement.

I start to turn.

Something hard strikes the back of my head.

Pain flashes white.

My knees give out before I can scream.

The last thing I see is the broken lamp on the floor and my phone slipping from my hand.

Then everything goes black.

22

LUKA

I wait by the car longer than I should.

Nina disappears into the building with her purse under one arm and one hand lifting the hem of her dress just enough to manage the steps. She does not look back after the first wave, and I force myself to stay where I’m because she asked me not to follow.

It should be simple.

I took her home. She went inside. She’s safe.

That is how a normal man would think.

I’m not a normal man, and the longer I stand beside the car, watching the closed lobby doors, the worse the silence in my chest becomes.

Sergei walks up from the security car, careful with his distance because he knows better than to speak too soon.

Sergei says, “Do you want us to stay on the building?”

I look at the entrance again. “Yes.”

Sergei says, “Two men?”

I say, “Four. One outside, one in the lobby if the building allows it, two rotating on the street.”

Sergei nods. “Understood.”