Page 53 of Deadly Charade

“In here.” She ushered the man to the kitchen and hovered in the background.

Ten minutes later, he met her gaze. “It’s just a bump on the head. No signs of concussion or anything to worry about.” The man was probably in his twenties and looked more like a wrestler than a paramedic. The police officer uniform suited him just fine.

Kira thanked him and walked him out. At least she had peace about Bryce’s condition.

She returned and sat at the table with Bryce. “I didn’t get the chance to fill you in on Ivan,” she said. “He told me that this underground group—he called them the Amber Crown Society—is cleaning house. They’re closing in on the treasure, or so they think. Derek had filed a lawsuit to stake his claim on the statue, so the ACS took him out. Anyone in their way, or who might even get in their way, is toast, and Ivan warned us to stop investigating or more people will die.”

Bryce held the ice pack to his head. “I don’t think he’s sold us out yet. I really don’t think Alex or Sophia know who we are.”

Kira agreed. “Turner would have pulled us out if he thought Ivan was a threat. But things should be interesting with the auction tomorrow night.”

“Yeah, we should probably get some rest. It will be a busy day tomorrow.” He stared at Kira, as if wanting to say something else.

Should they talk about the obvious issue, the one glaring them both in the face?

The tiny sparks of attraction had roared into an inferno, and someone needed to throw some water on it. Because if they hadn’t heard a gunshot, Kira was a hundred percent sure they would have kissed.

She needed to face this head-on. “I’m sorry things got a bit . . . emotional between us earlier. It’s just that I can relate to your childhood stories.”

Bryce nodded. “We were just carried away for a moment.” He abruptly turned the tables on her. “Would you tell me about your upbringing? What it was like being raised in an orphanage?”

Heat washed over her from her neck to her face. Not a subject she cared to share, but she’d brought it up.

She stood and moved about the kitchen, busying herself by filling a teakettle and putting it on the stove. Here she was, the risk-taker, and he was the one risking his heart by sharing with her.

Kira leaned against the bar that separated the kitchen from the dining area. Probably best to put some space between them. “It was rough. The conditions weren’t the greatest, and it was so hard to make friends or have anything permanent.”

The smell of mold mixed with rotting meat hit her senses like it was happening right now. But those were the smells from the kitchen at the orphanage. “We mostly ate porridges and stews. There was one room with rows of bunk beds. I claimed a top bunk.” She looked away and rubbed her arms. “It was the one thing I could say belonged to me.”

“I’m so sorry, Kira.”

Bryce’s voice was low, caring, wrapping her in warmth, allowing her to continue. “My parents died when I was five from a car crash, and they were both only children. I had no relatives, no one to take me in. So I wound up living at the orphanage until I was ten.”

Bryce whistled. “Five years is a long time.”

“All the days eventually ran together, especially since the scenery never really changed. I had chores with very little play time. We had tutors, but we didn’t learn much. Most of us just wished our days away, counting down the time until someone adopted us and took us out of there. Or we aged out.”

The memories flooded back like a waterfall. “I had one friend. She and I were there the longest and had become permanent fixtures of the orphanage. Until a family adopted her. She never said goodbye, and that’s the last time I saw her. Everyone always leaves.”

The rejection stung like it had happened yesterday. “The staff allowed Cecilia time to gather what little possessions she had, and she chose to leave without saying a word to me. Told the staff it would be too hard. I get it—she probably felt guilty for being picked over me. I loved her like a sister. Apparently she didn’t return the sentiment.”

She pulled in a ragged breath. “And honestly, I can’t blame her for what she did. After all, she found a family—that was the goal all along for both of us. But she should have talked to me. I would have been happy for her. Instead I was left alone, wondering what I’d done to have her cut me out of her life without so much as a backward glance.”

Bryce moved to the bar and laid his arms across the counter, covering her hand with his. “That’s a difficult place to be. Losing your parents, and then your best friend.”

He didn’t know all of it. The words echoed through her mind, dredging up the day she overheard a conversation between two staff members. “Kira’s never going to get adopted. They all want a blond newborn. No one wants an older kid.”

She banished the thought. Her adoptive family took her home and loved her unconditionally. The Millers gave her an example of sacrificial love. But at the time, the words had embedded deep in her heart.

No one had wanted her, even Cecilia.

“Well, you can see how much I understand what you went through all those years ago.” Kira moved back, pulling away from Bryce’s touch. She was losing her mind, and her heart. “I’m going to call it a night. I’m glad you’re all right. Tomorrow will be another busy day.”

Bryce stepped back as well. “Good night, Kira.”

She raced up the stairs and headed to her bedroom. It wasn’t until the door closed that she let out a breath.

If these Russians didn’t kill her, this attraction between her and Bryce might.