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Finlay Donovan Is Killing It(Finlay Donovan #1)(92)

Author:Elle Cosimano

He held up a hand, his cuff links glittering in the low light. “Let’s do each other the courtesy of not wasting each other’s time.” His voice was ominously soft, the tight muscle of his jaw hinting at his impatience. “Yesterday, a blue sedan, with the same license plate as the one you just parked, followed my limo on a little expedition through Fauquier County. My colleague tracked that plate to this garage.” Feliks tucked his hands in his pockets, his elegant gait and his words thoughtfully measured as he paced in front of me. “Ramón and I had a little talk. He told me you’d be coming to return the car tonight, so I encouraged him to take the rest of the evening off. Which means we can stay in this garage as long as necessary.

But I’m sure you’d rather be home with your children, Ms. Donovan.” He let my name hang in the silence. Finding my home—my children—would be easy, assuming he hadn’t already … “So let’s cut to the chase. Tell me.” He straightened his sleeves with a pinch of each cuff as he sauntered closer. “Why were you following me?”

“I wasn’t following you.” Feliks paused in front of my chair, the hard lines of his mouth tightening into a thin line as his eyes cut to Andrei. Andrei’s hot cigarette breath rolled over the back of my neck. His knife bit my throat as his calloused hands pinned me in the chair. All I could think of were the three men Georgia’s friends had found murdered in an empty warehouse, their throats cut from ear to ear, left in a river of blood.

“I was following Theresa!” I blurted. It wasn’t entirely a lie. Eyes squeezed shut, I braced for death. When it didn’t come, I peeled one open.

Feliks cocked his head. Curiosity softened the sharp contours of his face as he regarded me the way a cat might consider its prey—uncertain if he wanted to kill me or play with me. “What exactly is your business with Ms. Hall?”

“She’s engaged to my ex-husband.”

His eyebrows rose with a hint of surprise. “And what had you hoped to gain by spying on our meeting?”

My mouth went dry. I tried not to think about the sting of Andrei’s knife, or the cool trickle down the side of my neck that may or may not have been sweat. “Steven … My ex-husband thinks she’s having an affair.”

“So you enlisted the help of a police officer to catch her?” Feliks laughed quietly. He scratched the dark stubble on his jaw. “Don’t look so surprised, Ms. Donovan. Detective Anthony and I go back a very long time. I may not have recognized the car, but I sure as hell recognized the driver.” He leaned in, a wicked gleam in his eye. He smelled like expensive liquor, soft leather, and fancy cologne, what I imagined the inside of a limo must smell like. “I can safely assume you witnessed nothing worthwhile, since Ms. Hall and I share a purely professional relationship.” The devious curl of his lip suggested we had different definitions of professional, and I recoiled as he brushed a stray lock of hair from my face with the tip of his finger. “But tell me,” he said, slipping his hands back in his pockets, “what was the detective after?”

“Nothing,” I said, my voice trembling. “He was just keeping me company.”

“Am I to infer that you and Detective Anthony enjoy a … personal relationship?”

I nodded, mute as Feliks knelt in front of me. His dark eyes flashed as he took me by the face, jerking my chin up. His voice crackled over with ice. “If I discover you’ve been lying to me, I will find you. Do you understand?”

Heart pounding, I nodded into his hand.

Andrei watched him, knife held, waiting for a sign.

A siren wailed in the distance, drawing closer.

Feliks let go. He rose to his feet as a car skidded to a stop out front, flooding the high windows with swirling blue light.

“Thank you for your time, Ms. Donovan,” Feliks said. “I trust I won’t be seeing you again.”

He motioned to Andrei, and the hulking man followed him to the exit at the rear of the garage. My breath rushed out on a shudder as the back door closed behind them.

“Finlay!” Nick’s muted shouts echoed from outside. Doors rattled on their hinges, one by one, as he made his way around the building. Bells jangled in the office. I got to my feet, surprised my shaking legs would hold me up.

“Over here,” I managed to say.

Gun in hand, his figure swept into the garage, his eyes darting to every corner of the room. He rushed toward me and jerked to a stop. His gaze fell to my neck, then quickly over the rest of me. “Are you okay? What happened?”

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