Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)(89)

Blocks, three at least.

And then another two.

Finally, her phone rang.

Violet saw Kaz’s number flashing across the screen, and relief swept through her blood. She still didn’t stop moving, and checking over her shoulder at the same time as she answered the call.

“He knows,” Violet said the second she put the phone to her ear.

Kaz was quiet on the other end, Violet almost thought that maybe he didn’t hear her.

“My dad—”

“Violet.”

Her name always came out so smooth and deep from Kaz, but that time he said it hard and sharp enough to make her steps stumble.

“He sent pictures,” Violet said, barely able to even say the words. “Your father—to me and my dad. He sent pictures of us. All sorts of pictures, Kaz. Walking. At the pier. Going into your place. And inside …”

Kaz blew out a heavy breath. “Inside where?”

“Your place.”

“When?”

“I don’t know!” she cried.

“Violet, what were they of?”

She choked on nothing but air. “What do you think?”

Kaz cussed—thick and angry. “Where are you right now?”

All Violet managed to reply to that was, “Not going to my father.”

The tears had started falling.

Her panic kicked up a notch.

She still heard Kaz’s voice in the background of it all. He rattled off the name of an address she didn’t recognize that was situated mid-Brooklyn.

“Get in a cab,” Kaz said. “I’ll meet you there.”





Violet handed over what the taxi driver asked for, and stepped out into a residential neighborhood that wasn’t exactly upscale, but certainly wasn't the slums. She kept a hand on the cab door, unsure if she was at the right spot. A small driveway led up to a modest two level home that was pretty on the outside, and had a white Bentley parked in front of the small garage.

“Miss, I got another fare to pick up,” the driver shouted.

Violet hesitated. “Is this the right place?”

He rattled off the address she had given him. “I’ve lived and drove in Brooklyn for forty f*cking years—this is the right place, girl.”

She let go of the door, knowing she didn't have much of a choice. Stepping up onto the curb, she felt her phone began to ring and vibrate in her messenger bag. It hadn’t stopped since she jumped into a cab and took off. Without a doubt, she knew it was her father.

Violet had checked a couple of times, just to make sure it wasn’t Kaz. He hadn’t called her back, or messaged, so that only left Alberto.

Guessing by the number of voicemails her father had already left, he was livid.

Beyond pissed.

She couldn’t be bothered to listen to a single one.

Why should she when she knew what they would say?

As the cab pulled away, Violet stayed on the curb, still staring at the house and wondering why in the hell Kaz would send her to a place he had never taken her to before.

What was she supposed to do, just go on up to the door and f*cking knock?

Violet eyed the quiet neighborhood and figured doing just that might be better than standing way out in the open where anyone might see and recognize her. She quickly crossed the driveway, and took the couple of wooden steps up to the front door. Rapping her knuckles to the glass twice, she took a step back so whoever was inside could get a decent view of her through the small clear slates in the design of the frosted glass.

She heard the footsteps approach from within, saw the light-colored shade move, and then waited another thirty seconds before the door was finally opened.

Familiar gray eyes greeted her.

For a second, Violet just took in the woman on the other side of the door. She was pretty, with her high cheekbones and her soft lines. There was a resemblance between the unknown woman and Kaz that Violet recognized almost instantly.

But where Kaz was the more masculine version, the woman was far more feminine in her features.

“Hello,” Violet said.

It felt stupid because she didn’t know what else to say.

The woman’s hand never left the doorknob, like she was thinking about closing the door on Violet if she moved even an inch. “Hello.”

“I’m—”

“I know who you are,” the woman interrupted sharply. “And I don’t know why you’ve found your way to my door, but I don’t need you here causing me any kind of trouble, Gallucci.”

Violet was stunned. The coldness of the woman’s tone rang out in each word she spoke.

“If you know who I am, then maybe you wouldn’t mind telling me who you are, or why Kaz gave me this address to come to.”

For just a brief second, almost quick enough to miss it, the woman’s stance softened. But just as fast, she straightened right back up like a rod had been shoved into her spine.

“Vera Markovic,” she said, her gaze never leaving Violet’s still form on the doorstep. “And Kazimir is my brother. But what exactly is he to you?”

Violet opened her mouth to speak, but words failed her.

She realized she didn’t have a clear, good answer to give back.

Kaz was a lot of things to Violet, and he had very quickly turned those things into even more without trying at all.