"Morning," Sarah says as I walk into the kitchen the next morning.

"Morning," I reply as I take a seat at the counter. "Ryder come down yet?" I ask her.

She nods as she pours a cup of coffee and slides it across the counter to me. Her hands wrap around her own cup and she lifts it up. "He left about twenty minutes ago. Said he had some things he needed to take care of." Her lips twitch and she takes a sip of her coffee. "He said if I did anything to help you run off, he'd hunt me down and kill me in the most brutal way possible. He also told me to tell you that if you run off, he'll actually shoot you the next time he catches up to you."

I shake my head and then wince, pressing my fingers into my forehead.

"You still have a headache?" When I nod, she points to the cabinet in the corner. "I keep various types of painkillers in there."

I nod. "Thanks," I mutter as I walk over the cabinet and open it. I pause as I stare at the contents. "Sarah," I start, my eyes still on the cabinet. "over half the stuff in this cabinet is alcohol."

"You say that as if I'm unaware of what I stock my cabinets with."

I shoot her a flat look.

She smiles. "It's a universal painkiller."

"I'm not commenting on that," I tell her. I take one of the only bottles of pills out and read over the label.

I turn to ask her a question and notice she's different than she was last night. She's more fidgety. She's not as at ease as she was before.

"Something wrong?" I ask her.

She shakes her head and stares at the floor. "Nothing important," She says simply.

"Sarah." I watch her and wait and finally, she looks up from the floor to me.

"My friend called me to tell me that Volkov doesn't believe you're in the immediate area and is looking for you elsewhere."

"I don't see how that would upset you. That's a good thing," I tell her.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know," She turns and stares out the window, her hands flat on the counter. "She also told me that Volkov was asking questions about a girl with a tattoo who drove out of the area."

"Shit," I mutter.

"I know." She laughs without amusement. "It won't take long for him to figure out it was me. I wasn't invisible in the gang. I was the exact opposite, actually." She looks around the room. "And it won't take long for him to track this place down after that, you need to get gone."

"So do you," I tell her.

She shakes her head. "I've got things to do here. I'm not leaving unless I have to."

"You have to," I tell her firmly. "If Volkov finds you-"

"I'll handle that when the time comes. I'm not defenseless Nicolette, and I'm no stranger to violence or killing." She shakes her head as she gazes at me. "I'm not like you, Nicolette. I can't just walk away from the people in the gang that need help. I have no reason to. I'm doing well here. I'm helping those kids get away from the gang." She stares down into her coffee cup. "I'm making a difference."

"I know that, Sarah," I say gently as I walk over to her and put my hand on her shoulder. "But getting killed because you choose to stay is not worth it."

She shakes her head again. "Maybe not to you." She looks up at me. "You're so focused on your own survival that you've blocked out everyone else's needs." She holds her hand up when I go to protest. "I'm not accusing you of anything. You have something to live for, your family. You're fighting to one day see them again. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. But I'm not like you. I don't have a family to fight for. I don't have a family to go home to. The only thing in my life that means anything right now, are those kids stuck in the gang when they want to be anywhere else."

I stare at her for a long moment. "I could track down your family for you," I finally say. "Figure out exactly where you come from."

She smiles at me. "I know you could, but I don't want you to." She goes back to staring out the window. "Maybe one day, but not now. They're not going to want me. I've grown up without them." She shakes her head. "I'm not the baby they lost. We'd be nothing but strangers to each other. Besides that," She pauses and her hand goes up to the tattoo on her neck. "they'd never actually see me as their lost child."

"Sarah," I start, but I'm unsure what to say. What am I supposed to say?

She shakes her head. "Don't worry about me. One day I'll go looking for them, but not today."

"Maybe it should be today."

She turns to look at me and amusement is shining in her eyes. "You're just trying to keep me from staying here while Volkov's on the hunt. I appreciate the concern, Nicolette. But it's not going to happen."

"It won't take Volkov long to figure out who was helping us. As you've said you were more famous in the gang than I was." I grimace at the memories. "And you were only fourteen."

Sarah just nods. "I never did thank you for that," She says after a long moment.

I look over at her. "Thank me for what?"

"For getting me out of all of it."

I wave her off. "It's not needed."

"So you say," She says. "but I disagree. You risked your life for me. You would have been killed if you'd been caught." She makes a face. "My father would have turned you over to Volkov then."

"He's not actually your father," I tell her, but she doesn't need the reminder.

"What else are am I supposed to call the man who raised me?"

"He also kidnapped you."

She shrugs and goes back to staring out the window. "I know, and make no mistake, I hate the bastard. I was two. And I would never have known I'd been kidnapped if you hadn't told me."

"You make me out to sound like I was a good person back then," I say.

She looks back to me again. "You were. You were better than I was at least. You've convinced yourself you were this heartless person and for the most part, I'm going to have to agree with you, but you still saw what was happening with me and you wanted to fix it. You wanted to get me out."

"I didn't exactly help you as much as I should have."

Sarah smiles again. "I wasn't helpless. You got me out, that was all that mattered."

"You were living on the streets," I remind her.

"And at some point during that time you were wiping out the gang's biggest account. You had your own problems to deal with. Besides," She waves her hand around the room. "I pulled through. I made a life for myself."

I look at her for the first time since coming here and I mean really look at her. She was one of those girls that were breathtakingly beautiful and knew it, but didn't care. Her light brown eyes have a glint to them and seem to just be alive. Her blonde hair is a darker shade and yet seems to shine in the sun coming in through the window. And even though she looks as young as she is, there's something about her that makes you take a second look. Something that makes her appear older.

And she's smiling, but that's no surprise. Sarah was always smiling. Even with everything she's been through and all the evil she's experienced first hand, she always looked at the bright side. She always saw the world and everyone in it for what they could be, rather than what they were.

She had a look about her that was almost angelic. She almost looked like a young child experiencing the joys of the world for the first time. That was what would draw people in to her, her almost child-like innocence and her charismatic and cheerful personality.

But I was one of few who knew what else was hidden behind her smile and cheerfulness. A girl as fierce as they come. A fighter. A killer. A survivor. As beautiful and cheerful as she was deadly.

"Nicolette," She starts suddenly and then stops, a frown on her face as she seems to search for the words she wants to say. "You're not going to want to hear this, but I think you should go to John."

I don't say anything as I stare at her without blinking. I expect her to tell me she's joking but she doesn't. She just stares right back at me.

"You're actually serious," I mutter. "Are you trying to get me killed?"

Sarah gives me a flat look. "John can help you-"

I cut her off. "You might have been friends with John, but there's no way in hell he'd help me."

"Nicolette," Sarah starts again firmly. "He could really help you."

"You do realize the only thing keeping him from hunting me down and killing me is the fact that he doesn't know what I actually look like."

One of the smartest-or dumbest, depending on your point of view-things I ever did was keep my dealings with John limited to phone calls and emails. Never had I actually done business with the world's best hitman in person. Which turned out to be very good for me when I did something to seriously piss him off. It ended with a phone call from him saying that if he ever came across me he'd put me in the ground.

One of the reasons I was still alive was because I made of point of staying the hell away from him. And now Sarah wanted me to go up and knock on his door and ask him for help.

Since I value my life that's never going to happen.

Sarah looks at me as if I'm some kind of child. "John is an asset you really need. You need him on your side before he ends up going against you."

"I also need to keep myself bullet free." I hold up my hand when she goes to interrupt me. "I get that he'd help you since he was mentoring you for a while, but he's not going to help me unless it's right into a shallow grave."

"That seems a bit extreme," She says.

"He's a hitman," I state blankly.

"Just talk to him."

"There's no talking to John. There's running from John."

"Who's John?"

I whirl around as Ryder comes into the kitchen, his hands in his jacket pockets as he looks between the two of us.

"Where have you been?" I question. My tone comes out slightly accusing and harsh because of my frustration with Sarah in going to John.

Ryder narrows his eyes at me. "Well aren't you just a little bottle of sunshine. I was getting a new rental car. I didn't want to chance using the same one."

"Sorry," I mutter as I turn away from him.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you. Trying making your tone a little nicer. That might help. Or you could just stop talking altogether. That would definitely help."

"You're a jackass."

"You're not exactly a saint yourself, matchstick."

"So . . ." Sarah trails off as she gives me a pointed stare.

"Fine," I say. "Fine. If I need the help I'll go, but that's only as a last resort."

Sarah frowns and then shrugs. "Good enough, I guess."

"Care to clue me in to the conversation?" Ryder asks.

"We're deciding on the help needed to bury your body after the inevitable murder," I mutter as I take a sip of my coffee.

"Very funny," Ryder replies dryly. "Should I chance getting a cup of coffee or have you spat in it?"

I turn to look at him and keep my face blank. "Guess you'll have to figure that out for yourself."

He stares at me and then his hand shoots forward and snatches my coffee from me.

"Hey!" I shout as I move to intercept him and take my coffee back.

He holds me away at arm's length with ease as he raises my cup to his lips. And then promptly spits the liquid back into the cup. He makes a face of disgust as he wipes at his mouth. "You drink your coffee black?"

"It shouldn't bother you," I reply as I take my cup back from his hands and then toss the remaining liquid down the sink. "It's only as black as your soul."

Ryder narrows his eyes at me in a threatening way. "At least I have a soul."

"I'm going to peg this cup at your head."

"And I'm going to interject before this goes too far and I end up stuck with one of you because you decide to murder the other," Sarah says as she steps between the two of us.

"It's not like we're actually going to kill each other," I mutter.

Ryder says nothing.

I glare at him. "I can't believe you. I thought we at least progressed past wanting to kill each other."

"Oh? And when did this happen? Do tell."

"When you had your tongue in my mouth."

Sarah spits out her coffee and begins choking. I cross my arms over my chest and stare defiantly back at Ryder who's cheeks are once again turning a nice bright red.

Of course, the red cheeks are likely part blushing and embarrassment and part red-hot anger and wanting to strangle me.

His eyes spark with something as he crosses his arms over his chest and stares back at me. "Do you really want to go there?"

Nope. Not one bit.

That's not what I say though. In fact, I don't say anything. I raise an eyebrow and give him a challenging look instead. His eyes narrow further and his jaw clenches. Sarah's still choking.

"I don't believe you had any protests then," Ryder says simply.

"Hard to talk with you smothering me."

It's his turn to get that evil mastermind look on his face. A challenge flashes in his eyes and it is at this point in time I realize I've made a horrible mistake. He's going to call my bluff.

"Smothering you, you say?" He takes a step toward me and I take two steps back.

It's at this point that I have a chance to back away. Do I take it? In my mind I do, but the words that come out of mouth contradict that.

"Yep," I reply. "Absolutely horrendous."

He takes another step toward me. I take three back and I hit the wall.

His eyes shine with amusement and devilish mischief as he continues toward me. "Shall I remind you just how 'horrendous' my smothering of you is?"

My heart's beating a mile a minute and I feel like a can't breathe as I press myself as far back into the wall as possible. He stands only inches away from me.

"Well?" He whispers softly.

"Not likely I'll remember," I finally manage to say, my gaze on his lips. "since you're so forgettable."

There's a cocky smile that spreads across his face. He takes a step back from me and pulls his sunglasses from his pocket, sliding them over his eyes.

"If you could take your eyes off my lips long enough to look me in the eyes and say that, I might actually believe it."

I glare at him, my cheeks turning red.

His smile gets wider. "Don't start something you can't finish carrot top."

I continue to glare at him. Oh but I could.