Fire and Ice
Selena's POV
Selena threw her coffee mug at the wall. It exploded into a hundred pieces.
"Get out!" she screamed at the man standing in her doorway. "GET OUT!"
The stranger didn't move. Didn't even blink when the ceramic shards hit the floor near his feet. He just stood there like a statue made of ice and shadows.
"Your father sent me," he said in that same cold voice from last night. "I'm your new bodyguard."
"I don't need a bodyguard!"
"The twelve dead men who tried to kill you last night say otherwise."
Selena's hands shook with rage. This was the man who had grabbed her hand and jumped out of a building. The man who had somehow gotten them both down safely using some kind of rope and hook system. The man who had disappeared the moment they hit the ground, leaving her alone with the police and paramedics.
"You left me," she said, her voice cracking. "You just... left."
Something flickered in his cold eyes. Gone too fast to read. "I had to make sure we weren't followed."
"For six hours?"
"It took six hours to be sure."
Selena wanted to hit him. This man with no name who talked like a robot. Who moved like death itself. Who had saved her life and then vanished like he never existed.
"What's your name?" she demanded.
"That's not important."
"It's important to me!"
"Names are dangerous. They leave trails."
Selena laughed, but it sounded crazy. "Everything about you is dangerous. Starting with the fact that you blew up my apartment!"
"I saved your life."
"You destroyed my home!"
"Would you rather be dead in a pretty apartment or alive in an ugly safe house?"
The question hit her like a slap. Because he was right. Those men would have killed her. Shot her full of holes and left her to bleed on her expensive carpet.
But she was so tired of being afraid. So tired of running. So tired of not knowing who to trust.
"I want to go back to my computer," she said. "I was close to finding something important."
"No."
"You can't just say no!"
"I can. I did. You're not going anywhere near a computer until this is over."
Selena's chest got tight with anger. "You don't understand. I found a connection between Detective Webb and—"
"Webb is dead."
The words sucked all the air out of the room. Selena sat down hard on her couch. "What?"
"Shot three times. Very professional. Just like your mother."
Tears burned her eyes. Webb had been her only lead. The only person who might have had answers about Mom's murder. "When?"
"Two hours after you accessed his files."
Selena's blood turned to ice water. "They killed him because of me."
"They killed him because he was going to talk."
"How do you know that?"
The stranger walked closer. For the first time, she noticed he limped slightly on his left leg. Like he was hurt but trying to hide it. "Because I'm the one he was going to talk to."
"What?"
"Your father hired me to investigate your mother's murder. Quietly. Webb was my inside contact at the police department."
Selena couldn't breathe. "Dad never told me—"
"There's a lot your father doesn't tell you."
"Like what?"
The stranger was quiet for a long moment. When he spoke, his voice was softer. Almost sad. "Like the fact that your mother's killer is still out there. Still working. Still killing people."
"Who is it?"
"I don't know yet. But Webb did. And now Webb's dead."
Selena buried her face in her hands. Every time she thought she was getting close to the truth, it slipped away like smoke. "This is hopeless."
"No. It's dangerous. There's a difference."
She looked up at him. "What's the difference?"
"Hopeless means giving up. Dangerous means being smart."
Something in his voice made her study his face more carefully. He was younger than she had first thought. Maybe early thirties. There were scars on his hands and a thin line across his left cheek. His eyes were the coldest she had ever seen, but underneath the ice, she thought she saw something else.
Pain.
"Why are you really here?" she asked quietly.
"To keep you alive."
"That's not what I mean."
He turned away from her. "It's the only answer that matters."
"Is it because you feel guilty? About last night?"
"I don't feel guilty about saving your life."
"Then what do you feel guilty about?"
He went completely still. Like she had hit him with a bullet instead of a question.
"Nothing," he said finally. "I don't feel anything."
But Selena was good at reading people. It came from growing up in a house full of liars. And this man was lying to himself most of all.
"You knew my mother," she said suddenly.
His shoulders tensed. "No."
"Yes, you did. That's why you're really here. That's why Dad chose you specifically."
"Your father chose me because I'm good at my job."
"What job? Killing people or saving them?"
The question hung in the air like poison gas. The stranger turned back to face her, and for just a second, his mask slipped. She saw guilt. Regret. Something that might have been grief.
"Both," he whispered.
Selena's heart started pounding. "Did you... did you kill my mother?"
"No."
"But you know who did."
Silence stretched between them like a knife blade.
"Maybe," he said finally.
"Maybe? MAYBE?" Selena jumped up from the couch. "That's not an answer!"
"It's the only answer I can give you right now."
"Why?"
"Because the truth might get you killed."
"I'm already being hunted by killers! How much worse can it get?"
The stranger looked at her with those winter eyes. "Trust me. It can get much worse."
Before Selena could ask what he meant, her phone rang. Dad's ringtone.
She answered it. "Hello?"
"Baby, thank God you're safe." Her father's voice was shaky. "Listen to me very carefully. You need to leave the safe house. Now."
"What? Why?"
"Marco's dead. Someone tortured him before they killed him. They know where you are."
Selena's legs went weak. Marco had been like an uncle to her. Rough around the edges but always kind. Always protective.
"How long do we have?" the stranger asked, somehow hearing the conversation.
"Ten minutes," Enzo's voice crackled through the phone. "Maybe less."
The stranger was already moving, grabbing weapons from hidden places around the room. "We need to go. Now."
Selena couldn't move. Couldn't think. Marco was dead. Tortured. Because of her.
"This is my fault," she whispered.
The stranger grabbed her shoulders. "Listen to me. This is not your fault. But if we don't leave right now, Marco's death will mean nothing."
Outside, car engines roared to life. Getting closer.
"They're here," the stranger said, checking his gun.
Selena looked at this cold, dangerous man who claimed to be protecting her. Who might know who killed her mother. Who might be lying about everything.
"How do I know you're not one of them?" she asked.
"You don't."
The brutal honesty hit her like a slap. At least he wasn't pretending.
"Then why should I trust you?"
The stranger looked right into her eyes. "Because three years ago, your mother saved my life. And I've been trying to figure out how to repay that debt ever since."
Before Selena could ask what he meant, the front door exploded inward.
Men in black masks poured through, guns blazing.
The stranger shoved Selena behind the couch and started shooting back.
"Stay down!" he yelled over the gunfire.
But Selena couldn't stay down. Because hanging on the wall behind the attackers, she saw something that made her heart stop.
A photograph.
One of the masked men had dropped it when he came through the door.
It was a picture of her mother.
And written on the back in red ink were two words that changed everything:
"TARGET ACQUIRED."