While I paced, I grumbled, which was what I’d been doing for thirty minutes. I was on fire tonight, working up a tremendous sweat, yet the anger wasn’t subsiding, instead seething inside.

  With a brutal grunt, I kicked the bag again, only to swing around and slam my foot into the center. The chain holding the bag in place creaked from the force.

  I stomped my foot like some kid throwing a tantrum and started pacing again as I rolled my arm across my forehead. Perspiration continued to trickle down both sides of my face. The exertion wasn’t relieving the pressure. Maybe I needed to switch tactics and suck down a glass of wine or three.

  Binge watching The Last of Us might be on the agenda.

  Just before I was ready to rip the laces on my boxing gloves with my teeth, I threw another battery of brutal punches, all the while wishing the bag was some corrupt shithead who’d dared cross my path. One professor had dared warn me I was too good for the law. I’d resisted laughing in his face mostly because I couldn’t understand his sentiment. How could anyone be too good?

  Now I had a better understanding of his warning.

  Whap! Whap! Whap! Whap!

  “Wow. You’re pissed.”

  Cringing, I caught the bag in my hands before it pummeled either me or my sister to the mat. “Yeah, maybe so.”

  “An everyday occurrence. You’ve been in a bad mood since you came back home.” Callie peered at me, her nose wrinkled. I was a sweaty mess with my hair in a ponytail while she was dressed to the nines in a crimson mini-dress, her hair perfectly coiffed and smelling like a thousand bucks. I adored my sister, but we were exact opposites.

  “Not an everyday occurrence.” Although she was right.

  “You need to get laid. You’ve been on a year-long dry spell.”

  My laugh sounded entirely different than a few days before. “Not necessarily.” I flashed her a grin.

  “Oh, my God. You met someone at the wedding. Didn’t you?” Callie squealed, clapping her hands.

  Shrugging, I pulled one of the laces on my glove with my teeth and she gave me a stern look. “I can do it myself. I’ve learned to be very self-sufficient.”

  “You’ll break your teeth that way. Who did you meet? Come on. Fess up.” She unlaced both gloves, jerking them off and tumbling backwards as she did. She laughed. “Maybe I need to take up kickboxing.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  With her arms folded, she tapped her foot on the floor. “Come on. You can’t hide anything from me.”

  She was right about that. In fact, she’d been the little tattletale when we were kids, using the four-year difference between us to her advantage. She had our father wrapped around her little finger.

  “Fine. I did meet someone. He was… The moment was… Incredible.”

  “Wow. I’ve never seen you like this.” She studied me and inched closer. “Did you hook up with one of the Dmitriyev brothers?”

  “How do you know about them?”

  “I have eyes. Did you see the People magazine article on Mikhail? Holy hell in a handbasket.”

  “You’re incorrigible and I’m not saying anything.” I mimed zipping my lips.

  Her eyes flew open wide. “You did hook up with one of them. Wow. That’s incredible. Hell, I’d tried to cozy up to one of them a couple years ago and struck out.”

  “Callie! You’re the regular Miss Goody Two-Shoes. They play rough and dirty.” I couldn’t help teasing her.

  “Very funny. I’m not that naïve little girl any longer. Just exactly how do you know they play rough and dirty?”

  Shrugging, all I could do was wink.

  “You’re so bad and I’m so glad you came back home,” Callie admitted. “So who was it?”

  “I’m not telling you because if I do, you’ll blast the news all over the city. Just do me a favor and don’t tell Mom or Dad a thing.”

  Callie gave me a hard look. “Let me guess. Dad mentioned his great commission. Right?”

  “How do you know about it?”

  “He even tried to get me to work for him as the marketing guru of the platform, including social media. Oh, hell, no.”

  “Why does he have it out for the Dmitriyev family?”

  “I don’t know. Who hasn’t heard the rumors, but they have the entire state in the palms of their hands. Every successful business is due in part to something they did, or an investment of cold, hard cash.” Callie flicked her long hair behind her ear. “Plus, they’re hot.”

  “You have a boyfriend.”

  “I know,” she said in a little singsong voice.

  At least after the shitty day I’d experienced, thoughts about my mystery man could still provide a little thrill.

  As she shrugged her shoulders, I flashed a grin. Since reaching twenty-one, she’d been the party girl while I’d remained the studious one. There were days I couldn’t believe we were actually sisters.

  “Even if you won’t tell me who you hooked up with, that is still so damn sexy. Russians are to die for. Are you going to see him again?”

  I laughed and started unwinding the tape around my hands. “We agreed no strings. Plus, I didn’t actually tell him my name.”

  “Don’t you think he can find out who you are since you were a freaking bridesmaid?”

  “I doubt a man like that has time to investigate the poor yet sinful girl he’d dominated in bed.”

  She squealed again.

  “I knew you had a bit of the bad girl in you. About damn time,” she purred, wagging her finger. “Now, the real question is, was it hot?”

  “As a roaring fire.”

  “Was his dick huge?”

  “Callie!” I burst into embarrassed laughter. “You’re terrible.”

  My sister shrugged, her evil grin making me think about him and his massive cock all over again. “Big dicks are hugely important.”

  “In your world, maybe. Now, what are you doing in the gym? Your idea of exercise is moving off the couch to the refrigerator.” I was teasing her since she had the perfect body and could eat anything she wanted. If I didn’t do kickboxing and try to stay away from Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, I’d be a house.

  “Now, look who’s terrible.”

  Moving in with my sister had been quick and easy, allowing me to avoid paying extra money for a deposit and first and last month’s rent that I didn’t have. While the apartment community was pricy, the exercise facilities were spectacular. “So you keep telling me. Your turn to confess.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Okay, I need a favor.”

  “You do, huh?” I tossed the tape into the trash, flexed my hands, and grabbed my bottle of water.

  “Can you take my last Door Dash run tonight? Pretty please with sugar on top?” She rose onto her toes, her entire body cringing as she begged with her big, baby blue eyes.

  “Ugh. This is my day off.” Not that it had felt that way.

  “I said pretty please.”

  She’d gotten every wish just by using the term as a kid.

  “What’s the reason?”

  “Like you reminded me. I have a boyfriend. Jason is coming into town unexpectedly from his business trip and needs to see me. Note the emphasis on needs.” She grinned from being ecstatic, shaking her fists like pompoms. Since day one, I’d taken bets on how long their relationship would last.

  It was a good thing I wasn’t a gambler. I’d be in the poor house.

  “You do not think he’s going to ask you to marry him.” Please say no. Please say no.

  “We’re not that serious, sis. But living together? Maybe. He’s been hinting around about it.”

  Living together. I put the pieces together and my day had just gotten much worse. They certainly wouldn’t want a third wheel messing up their love nest. Whether she moved in with Jason or vice versa, I could be out of a place to stay or forced to cover the entire rent within a couple of weeks.

  A deep exhale slipped past my lips before I could stop the ugly sound. There was no mistaking when I was frustrated or unhappy.

  “I’ll let you borrow my red sweater. Plus, I haven’t seen him in two weeks. I’m dying without him.”

  “You’re not dying,” I said, laughing. I absolutely hated the Door Dash runs. The tips had allowed me a little freedom, but you never knew what craziness was being requested. Callie loved it.

  “I’ll owe you big time.”

  I grabbed my towel. “What is the run?”

  “Don’t worry. He’s a regular. Always orders pizza from Sal’s and has me deliver.”

  “Don’t most pizza places have a delivery service?”

  She shrugged, which meant she wasn’t telling me everything. “His house is a little further out. They won’t deliver to him.”

  “Callie.”

  “Come on. He’ll get pissed if I ask someone else, but you’re my sister. I think he’s very private and it’s obvious he’s rich as sin. You should see his house.”

  “You’ve been in his house.”

  “The entrance foyer. I also think he’s a bit lonely.”

  “Wait a minute. Does he come onto you?”

  “Not really. At least since we started talking and I shared I had a boyfriend. He’s a nice, rich guy and tips extremely well.” She was practically jumping up and down. “Please, sis. Jason asked me to meet him at a fancy restaurant and everything. Then we’re going dancing afterward. Isn’t that so awesome?”

  All I’d wanted was a quiet night to regroup. However, I’d never been able to say no to my baby sister. “Ugh. I cannot believe I’m letting you talk me into this. I’ll do it.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Bristol

  I was sweaty and smelled bad.

  My body was sore from the extreme workout.

  I’d yet to wolf down a scrap of food since I’d been embroiled in rage and feeling sorry for myself. And I was craving an entire bottle of wine.

  Plus, I was running low on gas, my sister’s concern Mr. Pavel didn’t like his food arriving either late or cold taken to heart. I’d also been forced to wait an extra ten minutes for the hot and crispy pizza to be ready due to a little fire in the kitchen. My luck wasn’t getting any better. The entire time my stomach had rumbled and I’d been ready to take a bite out of the cardboard box holding the steamy, delicious-smelling pizza.

  Maybe Mr. Richy-Rich would provide a decent tip. At least that was something that could brighten my day.

  My sister owed me more than just one favor. Picking up a hot pizza with all the toppings from Sal’s Pizzeria was fine since the tiny store was only a couple of miles from the apartment, but the housing development where the customer lived was on the other side of Vegas.

  In the rich section of town.

  Driving with the scents making my mouth water had been sheer torture.

  An unforgivable sin.

  I only hoped Callie was right and the man was a huge tipper. At least I knew he wasn’t one of the nuts I’d encountered.

  The closer I came to the development, the larger homes had become, now including massive estates protected behind stone walls and massive gargoyles. Every community was protected, several of them the size of small cities complete with their own zip code and police departments.

  As I pulled in through the gate, I was surprised there were no guards on duty. Maybe the feature was meant as a decorative deterrent and nothing else.

  At least the area was well lit. I moved through the quiet streets, finally making the last turn. The man’s home was nestled in the curve on a cul-de-sac, the house set back from the road. I parked on the street, quickly jumping out and grabbing the pizza. I didn’t care how grand the neighborhood was; I locked the doors, shoving the key fob to my Cruze into my jeans pocket.

  As I walked down the long dark driveway, a strange sense of the creepy-crawlies caused me to look over my shoulder a couple of times. Thank God for the almost full moon. At least I wasn’t tripping over my feet. I was surprised Mr. Pavel hadn’t left the outside light on.

  There was no reason to be nervous, yet as I headed toward the front door, the sensations grew stronger. I was on the stoop before I realized the door was open by a couple of inches. I heard sounds coming from inside.

  Maybe the guy was on the phone and had left the door open on purpose. I rang the doorbell but didn’t hear anything coming from inside.

  Yet I waited in case he just didn’t hear the bell. After a couple of minutes of the bottom of the box burning my hand, I knocked on the door. When I did, it swung open by a few inches and like out of a horror flick, the hinges creaked.

  The foyer was dark, but I could see lights coming from a different area in the house. Since Callie had been inside before, he’d been expecting her, and had left the door open. The noise appeared to be coming from a television with the volume very loud. “Hello?” Taking tentative steps, I moved just inside.

  Oh, this was not the best decision I’d ever made, yet the quicker I could get this over with, the sooner I could be home holding a glass of wine.

  Girl, you are crazy for doing this.

  “Hello. Door Dash, Mr. Pavel, I have your pizza.” My voice was far too timid and likely not heard over the television, but I had to admit this made me very nervous. Where I stood muffled the moonlight and I blinked several times, trying to allow my eyes time to adjust. Hearing nothing, I took another step inside.

  I went down hard, tripping over something. The pizza flew from my hand, smashing against the wall. Even while I was going down, I had the good sense to snap my mouth shut. The last thing I wanted was to alarm the owner. Not that he wasn’t going to be pissed as hell.

  When I landed, pain tore through my palms and knees, but something caught the brunt of my fall. I scuttled backward, managing to keep from crying out. Panting, my eyes became accustomed to the dim light. I squinted, trying to figure out what I’d tripped over.

  Fuck. That hurt like hell. Breathing out, I tried to think of an adequate excuse not only for being in the man’s house, but for tossing the pizza all over his wall. I had a bad feeling this was my last night working for Door Dash.

  I shook my head and realized there was something large in the middle of the room. A sculpture? No. A table? An eerie feeling swept down my spine as creepy-crawlies took over. This was so not good.

  Was that… No. No. No.

  Sweat beaded across my forehead.

  Someone was lying on the foyer floor. Oh, my God. Hesitating, I blinked several more times in a crazy attempt to get my bearings.

  Maybe Mr. Pavel had experienced a heart attack. At least I knew CPR. I crawled closer, my hand shaking as I reached out. “Mr. Pavel?” I touched his arm, shaking him slightly. He was lying on his side. Cringing, I gently rolled him over, immediately reaching for his neck to check his pulse. My hand hit something cold and hard, my fingers instantly wrapping around the object.

  The moonlight streaming in through the now wide-open door provided a macabre illumination of my fingers holding the handle of a knife.

  With the blade driven into Mr. Pavel’s chest.

  Panic was immediately driven into my system. This wasn’t good. Oh, this was so bad. I released the knife, panting several times. There wasn’t a chance in hell that anyone would believe I’d stumbled onto the scene and just happened to have my hand, including my fingerprints, on the murder weapon.

  Think, girl. Think.

  Before I had a chance to react, Mr. Pavel gasped, the darkness unable to hide that he’d snapped his eyes wide open. He grabbed my wrist and I was shocked at his strength. I bit my lower lip to keep from wailing, shocked he had the strength to pull me down.

  I could tell he was trying to say something. Leaning down, I held my breath.

  “Ma…” The gurgling sound was worse. He was spitting up blood.

  “I’ll call an ambulance.”

  “Na… No,” he managed. “Mlad… brat. A… A…”

  “What?” Hold on. Was that Russian? Yes, it was. This was bad. Oh, so bad. The fear tripled and for a few brief seconds, my thoughts drifted to the wedding and all the Russians who’d been in the room. “Okay. It’s going to be okay.”

  His hot breath tickled my skin as fear rushed into every cell. Suddenly, his fingers relaxed, his arm slipping to the floor. With my hand shaking, I tentatively touched his neck. There was no pulse. Shit. Shit. Shit. What was I supposed to do?

  He was suddenly very still. Too still.

  Jerking my arm away and with my hand shaking, I pressed two fingers against the man’s neck, searching for the pulse.

  He was dead, oh so dead.

  Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  My skin crawled as I fisted my hand, taking deep breaths.

  My entire life could be destroyed because I’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  So I did the unthinkable.

  Using my shirt, I wiped the handle of the knife before I had a chance to think the act through. Startled by my horrific actions, I jerked back onto my butt, fighting tears.

  Hating my actions.

  Hating my life.

  Still shaking, I knew I had to call the police. What the hell was I going to say now?

  Voices. There was no doubt I heard voices coming from the other room. More than one. And the sound wasn’t coming from the television. Wait a minute. Oh, God. No. No. No. This was not happening.

  I slapped my other hand across my mouth to keep from screaming as I struggled to my feet. He was dead. He’d been killed. No, idiot. He was murdered.

  When I jerked backward, I was closer to the doorway leading into a large room. The loud voices caught my attention again and I lifted my head, shaking like a leaf. The darkness was like a tunnel, the bright light in the background highlighting another moment of horror.

  There were two men dressed in dark clothing from head to toe. Both wearing masks.

  Both carrying guns.

  When one of the men turned toward where I was standing, I shrank back into the shadows. They were in full face ski masks, but his was pulled up to his scalp, allowing me to see his face. And the darkness in his eyes.

  I could swear he was looking right at me. With my breath held I waited in silence, my nerves frazzled and terror sweeping through me. They’d killed Mr. Pavel in cold blood.