Page 61 of Exacting Vengeance

What had she done to deserve this depth of thoughtfulness?

Oh, God. I have to tell him.

“Kyle, I⁠—”

The doorbell rang, not the intercom but the bell right outside her apartment door.

“Expecting someone?” Kyle’s brows furrowed.

“No. Probably just a neighbor.”

Then again, she hardly knew her neighbors, and that was by design. She valued her privacy and her safety. The fewer people who knew her here the better.

She rose to look through the peephole. A woman wearing a long sleeve green shirt embroidered with the words Whitney Florists stood outside her door. “Can I help you?”

“Delivery, ma’am.” The woman held up a large glass vase brimming with red roses.

She opened the door.

“Victoria, don’t!” In an instant, Kyle was beside her.

“Here you go.” The woman handed over the vase, then turned to leave.

“Wait,” Kyle said. “You didn’t buzz the intercom. How did you get into the building?”

She shrugged. “I make deliveries in the area all the time. Someone else was coming out as I was going in. They held the door for me.”

“Great security,” Kyle muttered, peering both ways down the hall.

When the woman had gone, he shut the door and went to the window. “There’s a florist van down there. Whitney Florists. Have you heard of them?”

“Yes.” She sat on the sofa and set the vase on the coffee table. “They have a shop in town.”

“Who’s it from?” He towered over her, his arms crossed and a decided frown on his face.

She plucked the card from the envelope clipped inside the plastic card holder. As she read the words, a sick feeling rolled up in her stomach.

Without asking, Kyle took the card from her hand. “Happy Birthday, Vika,” he read out loud. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw went harder than the granite floor in her office building. “It isn’t signed. Who else knows it’s your birthday? Your real birthday? And they’d have to know where you live. Someone from your office? Tracee? Brad Evans?” Kyle had morphed into total federal agent mode, and her head was hammering from all the questions. “And who else calls you Vika?”

“The only people who ever called me Vika were my parents and Yuri. No one at my office knows that nickname. They don’t even know my Russian background.”

Could she have made a mistake and accidentally written down her true birthdate?

No. She’d been too careful. Marissa had all but physically drilled into her head never to make a mistake, and she hadn’t. This was so not good. “The only person who knows my true birthday beside you is…” She didn’t have to say it. Yuri.

“It’s not safe here anymore.” Kyle rested his hands on her shoulders. “These flowers are a message. He knows where you live.”

“No.” She began shaking her head, meeting Kyle’s intense, angry gaze head-on. “I won’t let him do this. I told you before, I can’t run again. He’s taken so much from me. This has to stop here and now.” No matter what happened from this point forward between Kyle and her, she wanted her life back. Whatever that turns out to be.

“Please, Victoria.” He hung his head, touching his forehead to hers. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

His words came out choked, tugging on her heartstrings to the point where she couldn’t ignore his concern. She was worried, too.

He pulled back. “Can we compromise?” When she began to shake her head, he added quickly, “At least temporarily. Move out until I have a chance to check out the florist and confirm who sent the flowers. Maybe you forgot and somewhere, sometime accidentally gave out today as your birthday.”

She hadn’t, but she could honor his request because he cared. Truly cared, something she’d once accused him of not being capable of. Today, she could hear it in his voice. There might indeed come a time when other circumstances forced her to run, but she wouldn’t let Yuri be the reason. “I can probably live with Tracee for a few days.”

“No,” he bit out, the sharpness in his tone surprising her. “Until this is figured out, you’re coming home with me. Pack a bag.”