I Told You To Run But You Didn't (Georgia) novel Chapter 26

Chapter 26

Georgia’s POV

84%

Finished

His face was inches from mine, his scent-clean linen and something expensive and masculine- overwhelming my senses. My pulse was a frantic drum against my skin.

“I told you,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration that I felt in my bones. “I don’t want your money.” He paused, his dark eyes searching mine, and I felt utterly pinned by his gaze. “But a debt is a debt. And I always collect.”

My throat was too dry to speak.

“You can begin to repay it,” he continued,” by having lunch with me. Today.”

Why? Why is he doing this? My mind was a whirlwind of confusion and a terrifying, unwilling thrill. I just finalized my divorce two hours ago, and here I was, trapped against a wall by a man who was everything my ex-husband wasn’t: powerful, dangerous, and in complete control. Was I really entertaining this?

I cleared my throat, trying to regain some semblance of control. My hands came up, pressing against the solid wall of his chest. It was a futile gesture; he was unmovable. A slow, infuriating smirk touched his lips as he watched my useless effort.

“So?” he prompted, his voice a low murmur.

I let my hands drop, defeated. “Fine,” I said, the word a quiet surrender. “We’ll have lunch together.”

The intensity vanished as if a switch had been flipped. He stepped back, all business again, and grabbed a phone and a set of car keys from his desk. “Good. Let’s go.”

My head snapped up. “Huh? You mean… now?”

“I’m not a patient man, Georgia,” he said, already holding the office door open for me. “I don’t have time to wait for tomorrow.”

I followed him to his car, my mind reeling. He held the passenger door open like a perfect gentleman. Flustered, I nearly caught my heel and stumbled as I go in. Once inside the enclosed, leather-scented space, my heart began to thump with an abnormal, frantic rhythm. I fumbled with the seatbelt, my shaking hands unable to make the simple mechanism work.

“Having trouble?” His voice, laced with amusement, was right beside me. He had gotten in without me even noticing. He leaned across me, his arm brushing against my chest, and took the belt from my clumsy fingers, clicking it into place with ease. His scent was overwhelming, and I forgot to breathe.

We arrived at a restaurant that screamed money-dark wood, hushed tones, and lighting so dim it felt illicit. A quick glance at the menu confirmed it; the price of a single steak could have paid my rent for a month.

The conversation was surprisingly normal at first. He asked about my flying, and I talked about the mechanics, the freedom, the sky. It was a topic where I felt confident. For a moment, it felt like a real date.

Then, during a lull after our food arrived, he leaned forward slightly, his expression casual, but his eyes sharp. “You mentioned Patricia is the only family you have. Is there truly no one else?”

The question was so direct, so disarming, that my defenses crumbled. The words slipped out before I could stop them. “Yes,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “I have a brother.”

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11:41 Sat, Mar 7 A MO

Chapter 26

84%

Finished

My fork clattered against the plate. The words had slipped out, a secret spoken aloud for the first time in years. Estevan placed his own fork down, the friendly atmosphere of the lunch evaporating into a sudden, chilling cold.

“Had a brother,” he corrected, his voice quiet but laced with steel. He leaned forward, his eyes boring into me. “Agent Zane Sinclair. Disappeared seven years ago during a raid on a warehouse in the port district. An operation that was officially disavowed by his superiors. Am I mistaken?”

I stared at him, my blood running cold. How could he know that? The details of Zane’s last mission were classified, buried. My mind raced, frantically connecting impossible dots. The port district raid… it was against the Salvatore gun syndicate… Salvatore…

My eyes widened in dawning, abject horror as I looked at the man across from me. He wasn’t just Estevan Salvatore, the respectable son of a famous general. He was the Salvatore syndicate.

As that horrifying realization settled, a flash of red-a laser dot-appeared on his temple.

My training, buried for years, took over. “Get down!” I screamed, launching myself across the table and tackling him out of his chair just as a high-velocity round shattered the window where his head had been a second before.

Pandemonium erupted. The restaurant dissolved into a storm of screaming patrons and shattering glass. Estevan was already moving, his initial shock replaced by a cold, lethal calm. He hauled me to my feet, his grip like iron on my arm.

“This way!” he commanded, dragging me through the chaotic dining room and into the chaos of the kitchen.

“Why would someone try to kill you?!” I yelled over the noise.

He shoved open a back door into a grimy alley, his face a mask of cold fury. “Are you really that clueless, Georgia?” he snarled, pushing me toward his car.

He threw me into the passenger seat and peeled out of the alley, tires screaming. The charming, sophisticated man from lunch was gone, replaced by someone harder, colder, and infinitely more dangerous.

He glanced at me, his eyes blazing with a dark, resentful fire. “You want to know how I know your brother?” he said, his voice a low growl. “Agent Zane Sinclair didn’t just raid some anonymous gun syndicate. He led an attack on my shipment. My operation.”

He took a sharp turn, the car fishtailing before he corrected it.

“Your brother cost me two billion dollars and some of my best men that day,” he finished, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “He didn’t just go missing, Georgia. He made an enemy of me.”

My mouth hung open, the single, horrifying question falling from my lips. “You killed him?”

A dark, humorless laugh escaped him, a terrifying soun in the enclosed car. “No. Killing him would have been too easy, too merciful. He vanished after our… encounter.”

“Then where is he?!” I demanded, my voice shaking with a mixture of rage and desperate hope.

“That is the question, isn’t it?” He glanced at me, his eye as cold and hard as obsidian. “The men who were there that day, the trail of evidence, the whispers on the street… I control all of it, Georgia. I am the only person on this earth who can give you the answers you’re looking for.”

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