Chapter 11

The sidewalks were dark and empty at this time of the night. Just a block away, I could see the car lights around Columbus Circle shooting beams of red and white. A drizzle had set in and made it harder than ever to see anything. The rain fell from the sky like grey needles of ice. It was so cold I could have sworn it was snowing again.

I could see Ashlen's breath in the night. His dark, haunting eyes never left me as he casually raised a finger for the nearest cab to approach us. I wished my pseudo-silk shirt hadn't been so low-cut. Why wouldn't he look away?

I needed to signal Brisden's men that the tall, formidable man before me was the target. Why hadn't they attacked yet? Did Brisden send his police friends home because they couldn't take a little bit of rain?

Drop by drop, the rain landed on my eyelashes.

The raindrops fell mercilessly, blocking my sight of any police officers lurking nearby. No, there was no one on the sidewalk that night. It was eerie because this street was never empty, not even in a hurricane. Then, I saw him, a man dodging behind a parked Tesla. Yes, help was coming.

Ashlen's sight was still focused on the cars circling Columbus Circle. He looked bored. No, he hadn't noticed that we were being watched. The man was gone. I prayed it was Brisden's man, signaling for his fellow cops to come closer.

I was shaking, and it wasn't from the cold. Did I really want to do this? Could the cops reach us in time? The man I read about in those horrible newspaper articles could snap my neck in the blink of an eye.

No! Get a hold of yourself, Lyrika! Stop being such a lily-livered coward!

Ashlen sighed as he gave up trying to catch the attention of a cab from the intersection. He turned back toward me, and his lips parted. He must have been about to suggest that we head back inside to either call back his driver or call a ride service on his phone. I could sense his exasperation by the way he sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets.

Now was my chance. I couldn't let him turn around and see the police officers approaching us from behind.

I stood on my tip-toes and wrapped my hands around the back of Ashlen's neck. Yes, he was shocked. I momentarily felt his body recoil from mine. Ye Gods, his physique had changed. He was about 200 lbs of solid muscle under that well-tailored wool coat. He smelled suave and sophisticated, like a man who wears fine suits to smoke cigars and travels by private planes. Who was this man who spoke with my ex-husband's vocal cords but most definitely did not resemble my humble, boring life partner at all?

Ashlen drew back but when he saw that I wasn't trying to strangle him, he stopped trying to shove me away. It was easy from that point. I leaned in and kissed him, smack on the lips. I tried not to throw up.

I was making out with a murderer. From those lips, he dispensed orders that led to the death of countless others. I should have vomited my small half-digested dinner from the touch of those terrible lips.

Yet, I didn't throw up. No, not even a little bit.

I leaned into the kiss, smearing my lips up against his like I was trying to inhale his soul into mine. Fear made for a powerful sauce to fuel my hungry, passionate love-making. I didn't know if this kiss would truly be my last breath on this planet.

His lips were soft, and I tasted a hint of whiskey on his tongue. He had his hands on my arms now, trying to figure out if I was trying to rekindle our love or trying to strangle him with my embrace.

"What . . . are . . .you doing?" he whispered breathlessly when I finally took a second to breathe. His eyes were half open, as though he was halfway in the world of the waking and halfway lost in his own dreams. I didn't remember his eyelashes being quite so long or so beautiful. Yes, as much as I hated to admit it, this dark life suited him. I could still taste his lips on mine, the rough scrape of his shaved chin, and the sound of his breathing, as though he couldn't stop himself from inhaling me as surely as I tried to devour him.

I didn't answer his question. I pretended to be reeling from the kiss. In a way, it wasn't a game of pretend. It was easy for my mind to fake emotions that my body knew to be real.

My mind said yes, it was still working. Thank you.

I was here to catch a criminal, not to rekindle old memories.

Peering over Ashlen's shoulder, I saw the man in the black trench coat approach. He reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a gun. I expected him to yell, "NYPD, hands up!" I braced for it and even stepped back to give Ashlen room to surrender.

No such warning came.

The man in the black trench coat aimed at Ashlen's back and fired.