Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1) (21 page)

Abram shrugged, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I don’t
know.”

“You need to figure that shit out,” Kaz said, plucking his
phone off the desk when it chimed again. He read the name, a beat of confusion
hitting him as he tried to figure out why he would have saved someone’s number
under “Converse”.

Then he remembered, and all thoughts of Abram and his
newest problem were out of his mind.

How long had it been? A week? Maybe longer? He had kept
himself from reaching out to her, fighting the urge, wanting her to come to him
this time. He had made his interest in her clear, even if he hadn’t outright
said it, and while he knew she felt the connection, felt the spark that ignited
between them when they were together, that was no guarantee that she would have
been willing to risk it.

Apparently, he had underestimated the Gallucci girl.

Abram was still talking, rambling on about what he planned
to do, but Kaz was too busy opening up the message to actually hear what the
man was saying.

I’m at the border
.

No one else could have known what that message meant, but
Kaz did, and before he even realized he was doing it, he was texting her back
to let her know he was on the way.

“Finish up in here,” Kaz said gesturing around them to the
money on the desk and the rest in the bag. “Have it done by morning.”

He was heading for the door when Abram called back, “But
what about my problem?”

Kaz paused. “Marry the girl. Take care of the kid, if
that’s what she wants. Just hope the
suka
doesn’t get you killed.”

Leaving the warehouse parking lot, Kaz tapped his thumb
against the steering wheel as he drove toward the bridge that led out of Coney
Island. He was nearly there, his headlights cutting through the darkness of the
night when he saw her. She looked up in his direction the moment he got close,
then grabbed the messenger bag that was sitting on the ground next to her feet,
and hurried over, sliding into his car with ease, like they had done this a
dozen times over.

Turning his body in her direction, he looked her over,
taking in her appearance, and the almost sad expression on her face. There was
a reason she had sought him out, Kaz knew, he just wondered if she was going to
share.

“Where to?”

There was no hesitation as she said, “Your place.”

Violet watched familiar streets pass her window by.
Strange, she thought, how only one trip to Little Odessa before this one could
make the drive to Kaz’s place familiar.

“Why so quiet?”

She didn’t turn away from the window. “Tired, maybe.”

“But maybe not,” Kaz pressed.

Violet didn’t reply, but she relaxed a little more in the
seat when his hand found her thigh and squeezed just under the hem of her
dress.

“Tell me,” he said, “are we going to get another phone call
where I have to rush you back to Manhattan?”

“Probably not.”

“Probably is not a no, Violet.”

She shivered just a little at the way her name rolled off
his lips. Like he’d been thinking about saying it for days, but keeping it to
himself. And when he was finally able to say it, the word spilled out like a
prayer.

It was too much.

For her, she liked it too much.

“It’s a most likely not,” Violet said, shrugging. “My
father had some sort of thing in New Jersey he was going to, and he’ll be there
until tomorrow night when he drives back. My mother doesn’t give a shit what I
do or where I am, as long as I’m not within five feet of her. My brother has
holed himself inside his apartment, which is where my mother has been for the
last week, much to my father’s dismay. And my friends …”

She trailed off, scowling at her reflection in the
passenger window.

“The girls from the club, yes?”

Violet sighed. “Yeah.”

His hand tightened around her thigh again, making Violet
swallow hard.

“Keep going,” Kaz urged.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter. All things have a course to
run, and it eventually comes to an end, right?”

“Unless you’re purposely being vague, I need more to go
on.”

Violet shook her head. “It’s nothing. Just drive.”

Kaz’s hand left her thigh, and she felt the loss instantly.
But just as quickly as it had gone, two of his fingers were stroking the side
of her neck.

“You’re sad,” he murmured.

“A little,” she admitted.

“Is that why you came down here looking for me?”

“Partly.”

“And the other part?” he asked.

Violet finally spun in her seat to face him, slowly. His
hand moved with her, fingers skipping down her jaw and under her chin.

“Well?” Kaz asked, still stroking her skin.

That was some of it, too. She thought about him a lot. Too
much, really. She remembered his hands on her and how that felt, so maybe she
wanted a little more.

But that wasn’t all of it.

“I don’t really know,” Violet said.

Kaz nodded. “Yeah, me either.”

It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

At the very least, Kaz figured there would still be a
little awkwardness between them as they entered his apartment. She had only
been to his place once, but she moved around the space as though she had been
there hundreds of times—like she belonged there—and as he tossed his keys on
the table, shrugging out of his jacket, he found that he didn’t mind it.

Kaz liked his space, his privacy away from the world, but
with Violet around, he didn’t mind not being alone.

Heading into the kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of vodka, and
a bottle of wine Vera had given him as a housewarming present, holding them up
for Violet to see. “What kind of night are we having?”

She pointed to the vodka.

Fair enough.

Grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet above his head, Kaz
carried them and the bottle into the living room, his eyes on Violet as she got
comfortable on the couch, kicking her shoes off and tucking her legs beneath
her. He dropped down beside her, pouring them both a drink, then passed her a
glass.

“Tell me,” he said picking up his own drink.

He was sure she would deny him again, just as she’d done in
the car as they drove over, but he was willingly to ask again. And even if she
didn’t give him an answer, he would just do it again until she did. He didn’t
like seeing her upset. Already, he missed her smile.

Violet hesitated, then tossed back a healthy amount of
vodka without a single cough. “My friends are upset with me. They’re blaming
me—at least Amelia is—for getting in trouble with her father when we came to
the club that night. Then there’s the fact that she hasn’t seen F-Franco.”

She stumbled over the word, but Kaz didn’t think much of it
as he tried to hide his own reaction at hearing that name. He didn’t doubt that
the girl hadn’t heard from him, especially when they still had the man’s heart.
Vasily still had it in a cooler in the freezer of the warehouse—he was sick in
that way.

“But they were here too, no? You didn’t force them.”

“Of course not, but they don’t care about that.”

“Sounds like your friends are selfish,” Kaz said, finishing
off his drink, then pouring another. “Are you sure those two are your friends?”

Kaz knew all about fake friends that ultimately betrayed
you. Shit, he knew family that was worse.

“I think that’s something we all learn after a while,” he
settled on saying.

Violet tipped back her glass, emptying the rest of the
vodka in one smooth pull. She tipped the glass in his direction, and he
refilled it for her. “What’s that?”

“Not to depend on anyone else.”

“That’s … a little harsh, isn’t it?” she asked.

Kaz chuckled. “No, it’s life. When you depend on others for
too much, your happiness, acceptance, or even approval, then you’re already
guaranteeing yourself unhappiness, rejection, and dissatisfaction from others
and yourself. Better to go on seeking those things from yourself, than
expecting others to hand them over to you.”

Violet stared at him for a long while, saying nothing.

“Not what you were expecting?” he asked.

“I was … It makes sense,” Violet said.

“Yeah, the hard lessons usually do.”

“That must have been tough …”

Kaz threw back another drink before facing her. “What’s
that?”

“Having to learn that lesson.”

“Is that your way of asking about me?” he questioned,
canting his head to the side as he regarded her.

“Only if you’re willing to tell me.”

“Let me tell you a story.” Kaz reached down, pulling her
legs onto his lap, his fingers kneading at the muscles in her calves. If he was
going to do this, he would need a distraction. “I had a friend once, my best
friend I would say. Back when we were younger, he encouraged me to do reckless,
outlandish things—he thrilled in the shit. I would be lying if I say I didn’t
enjoy it, but not like him. He got off on it.”

Violet was listening, her face turned in his direction and
laying back against the couch. And it was clear as he met that curious, worried
gaze of hers that she wasn’t just trying to placate him as he talked, but was
actually listening. That encouraged him to go on, even if this was one story he
refused to share.

Not even Ruslan knew.

“I was young at the time, sixteen thereabout, but we might
as well have been men—we knew better—but I was a little shit and wanted the
fuck away from Vasily, and if that meant doing bad shit—” He paused, smiling
absently as his hands shifted to one of her feet and he pressed his thumbs into
the arch. “—and not like the bad shit I’m a part of now. We smoked weed, drank
heavily, and one night he even bought cocaine.

“That night, I was fucking wired, like I felt nothing,
despite how high I was. We were sitting in the car outside of my old space in
broad daylight, mind, but who gave a fuck? I am who I am. But what my friend
didn’t tell me was where he’d scored the stuff—and that he hadn’t bothered to
pay. Even as young as we were, it was easy for us to get by on names alone—my
family is fucking infamous around these parts.”

Kaz took a breath, holding it for a moment, and then he let
it go once her legs shifted in his lap as she drew closer.

“Go on …”

“So we’re sitting and laughing about nothing. It was all
good. And maybe,” Kaz said with a shake of his head, “just maybe, if he hadn’t
been ten fucking sheets to the wind, we might have noticed the men walking up.
He might have noticed the guns in their hands. And maybe,” said Kaz, his tone
softening as he remembered that day, “just maybe, he could have prevented that
little girl walking down the street with her mother from taking a bullet that
was meant for him.”

He was yanked out of his memories in a flash as Violet
straddled his lap, her hands lifting to cradle his face. She looked so
concerned in that moment that he almost didn’t finish.