Free War (Romanian Mob Chronicles Book 5) by Kaye Blue

hand. I unlocked the door, entered and then engaged the chain after I closed it.
    Once I was safely locked inside, I slumped against the door, relieved to finally be home, ready to put this nightmare behind me. My gaze went to the corner where Priest had stood for so many hours, the spot where he had sat, and for a brief moment, I was transported back to last night and this morning, remembering him in my home, remembering his lips brushing against mine.
    My body started to respond, the stir low in my belly now having everything to do with the man and nothing to do with fear or nerves. I stayed in that moment, letting myself imagine what it would have been like had we met under different circumstances. Would whatever the draw was between us have existed, or would it have been nothing?
    Probably nothing. I’d have been working some event he was attending and he would have overlooked me completely. That sobering thought was enough to make me lift eyes I hadn’t realized I’d closed and push away from the door.
    Yesterday had been an aberration, a hiccup, a weird little detour I’d one day tell my two sons and daughter about over Sunday dinner.
    But it was over now, and it was time for me to get back to my life, back to building the dream fund, back to my real life.
    Moving deeper into the house, I flipped on a lamp, noticing for the first time how quiet it was, how unlike Tiffany, who had been noisy the entire time I’d known her.
    I stopped short in the hallway, a chill coming over me.
    It wasn’t so much that Tiffany chose not to be quiet; she just couldn’t be. It wasn’t in her nature, but our entire house was still, silent in a way so unlike her that were it not for the items inside, things that I knew belonged to us, I wouldn’t have believed it was our home.
    My heart was racing now, but my lungs were tight and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I started moving again, though, talking to myself with each step.
    She’d had a busy night, so maybe she’d gone to bed early. Or maybe she’d been worried and decided to take a walk around the block to clear her head.
    Either option was plausible, especially if I ignored the fact that both of us were night owls, a side effect of our crazy hours. Or if I ignored the fact that Tiffany would rather take a five-minute drive than a two-minute walk.
    Still, I ignored all the things I knew about her and clung to those options because the others, those tantalizing whispers of suspicion and worry that grew ever louder with each step I took, were ones I couldn’t believe.
    “Tiff?” I called out in the thick silence.
    There was no response.
    I’d reached her bedroom door, and for a moment I stood, not moving, not breathing, just waiting, hoping for movement, for sound, anything.
    There was nothing.
    The fear I’d felt last night was nothing compared to how I felt now, and as I reached up and turned her doorknob, I felt almost outside of myself, like I was watching a movie, because this couldn’t be happening. Not to Tiffany.
    I pushed the door, the creak of the hinges loud enough to be deafening, but the deafening noise was nothing in the face of the shock that had me rooted to my spot. Shock that grew in my mind, deepened as I peered into the room, and seemed to expand inside me and fill my chest. Shock that twisted into a scream, the physical weight of which was too much to keep inside.
    My lips fell open, and my facial muscles twisted and pulled tight as my body went through all the motions of a scream.
    But the only sound that came out of my mouth was a low, broken whimper.

Thirteen
    M ilan

    “ S o you want to try this again?” Detective Whatshisname said.
    I looked at his face through the tears that clouded my eyes, and in it I saw no sympathy, no pity. No remorse.
    If anything, he was gleeful.
    Not able to bear that expression or his scrutiny, I turned my head, face pressed against the disgusting padded wall of the small room I’d thought I’d never see