Chapter 3
Vincent
Why the fuck is she here?
“Black,” answers my head of security.
I can tell from his bleary tone that I’ve woken him up. I don’t give a fuck.
“She’s here,” I say. “And I want to know why.”
“Who, sir?”
“Hazel,” I say through clenched teeth. “Who else?”
I hear the rustling of bedsheets and Robert Black clears his throat.
“Hazel At -”
“Do you know any other Hazels?” I snap. I don’t wait for him to respond. “Yes, Hazel Atwood. Your team was ordered to keep her away from me until this shit with Damien was resolved. So, how the fuck did she manage to find herself in Manhattan at the same time as me?”
I’m pacing the length of the penthouse sitting room like a caged lion, stopping every now and then to part the silk curtains and look out the window, down at the crowded late night streets, as though I might see Hazel’s dark head of hair wandering amongst the rest.
“Boss, I’m sorry. We’ve done our best, even got her job to relocate her to San Jose. She shouldn’t be -”
“WELL SHE FUCKING IS,” I roar into the phone.
“Yes, sir.”
“I want an explanation,” I seethe, pausing again to look out onto the street below.
Pedestrians wander the street like koi fish in a pond, weaving back and forth, stirring together.
She could be among them, walking anywhere.
This city goes on and on, stretching in all directions like an endless simulation of tall buildings and streets.
The perfect place to get lost, to disappear in plain sight.
“Yes, sir,” Black says rapidly, finally sounding fully alert. “We’ll investigate straight away.”
“Find her,” I growl. “And when you do, I want 24/7 security on her ass. Two men, not one. You understand?”
“I’m putting my best guys on this as we speak. Two men, fully armed.”
“I want flight numbers,” I continue, pacing. “Hotel room numbers and keys. Bank statements, credit card statements. Cell phone location tracking, texts, and call logs. I want all of it, and I want updates every hour. No. Every half hour. You got me?”
“Yes, sir.”
“If anything happens to her, it’s your ass,” I warn him. “Figure this out. Now.”
Yelling at Black wasn’t enough. Going to bed after this seems absurd. How do I sleep when I know that she’s here, and that she came close enough to find me in my goddamned hotel room?
I’m not stupid enough to think that Damien would just let our feud go. When he was released from prison last year, my team did their best to assassinate him. But he’s slippery, too clever to allow an enemy to get an easy shot.
Prison was never where I wanted him; the goal was always to have him six feet under. Dead and forgotten, where he belongs.
I didn’t want to be the one to do it, to end the life of a former friend turned enemy. Looking back, I should have. Should have handled it myself, personally making sure that the threat was managed. Instead I hired out the job while I was distracted with other things.
Other things like Hazel.
And because of my mistake, I endangered us both. Dragged Hazel into my world without her even knowing it, putting her at risk because…
Because I wanted her.
Fucking selfish as it is, I wanted her. At first, it was about sex.
Losing myself inside of her, forgetting about the harrowing world outside.
With Hazel, I was able to pretend that things were okay.
Able to pretend that maybe I’m not such a broken bastard after all, that maybe I have enough redeeming qualities to keep a woman like her around and pleased.
But that was as much of a fantasy as believing Damien would accept peace and let our old feud fall by the wayside.
There’s nothing he won’t do, no line he won’t cross.
Fueled by deep and irrational hatred, Damien is willing to do things I won’t.
Things like kidnapping the woman that his enemy loves and killing her for petty revenge.
Using women like pawns in our chess game while I try to take the high road, as low as that high road might be at times.
Hazel isn’t truly safe as long as Damien’s heart is still beating. And that’s exactly why I’m here this week, to finish a job that I should have taken care of a long time ago.
To the average unsuspecting person, I’m here for a simple business conference for my cover company, a venture capital firm that gives seed money to promising startups in exchange for a stake in the business.
Nine times out of ten, those businesses go on to be worth millions, sometimes billions.
Making me a very rich man, even outside of my law-breaking income streams.
That’s who I am to the world. Law-abiding guy. Shrewd businessman. Eligible bachelor.
Underneath, though, this is what I really am. A criminal.
Embezzler. Drug smuggler. Ruthless murderer.
And in Hazel’s case, an unapologetic stalker.
She’s the only woman I’ve ever stalked like that, the only woman who made me want her so badly that there was nothing I wouldn’t do to have her.
She embraced me with open arms, like she’d been waiting for me all her fucking life, like I was some kind of antidote to her problems instead of the cause of them.
And it nearly cost her life.
She should have known I would only fuck things up for her. That’s what I do best. It’s the reason I have nobody. No family, no girlfriends, nothing.
I told myself that keeping our relationship under the radar was for her own damn good.
But in truth, it was my way of easing the guilt I felt every time we were together.
Knowing that I was risking her safety for the sake of my own happiness and sexual pleasure, knowing that I was breaking my rules.
A weak man.
That’s what Hazel turns me into. Bringing me to my knees with just a caress of her hand. And it’s goddamned terrifying.
I pace the length of the penthouse for a while more, waiting for a call from Black. In the end, I can’t take it anymore. Waiting helplessly while Hazel might be in danger. So I throw on my coat and leave, taking matters into my own hands.