Step 1.

Juliet folded one corner of the paper into the other corner. She made sure it was all perfectly aligned before pressing down on the fold, nice and firmly, then pulling it open again.

It was eight hours until the poker game began.

Outside, the lightning from one of Houston’s trademark thunderstorms flashed. She ignored the bright flash of light, just as she ignored all the thoughts that fought to overtake her mind.

Step 2.

She folded the other corner into the opposite corner, again making sure it was perfectly aligned before pressing the fold, then opening it up.

The table was littered with paper cranes that she had spent the evening making.

She and Chance were over. Finished. Kaput. And in the most spectacularly glorious fashion. Anyone who’d been at the Backstreet Cafe that morning several days ago could tell you that.

Every word she’d said still ate at her. Every word Chance had said bit twice as hard. It was almost enough to make her cry.

Almost.

Each time she felt the tears come, she reminded herself that the outburst, as crazed and impulsive as it had been, was for the best.

It was one thing to have a man take her out for ice cream and champagne. It was an entirely different thing to have a man drag her down the rabbit hole of a mafia—Bratva—turf war, complete with her in the crosshairs.

Ending it was for the best.

Step 3.

She folded the paper down the middle horizontally. When she pulled it open, she stared down at all the folds in the paper. Each line was perfect, all connecting in the center.

Juliet thought of the plan she had helped Chance and Katherine hatch out.

Something was nagging at her and she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

The sound of her phone nearly caused her heart to jump out of her chest. She took a moment to recover, hating herself for being so damn jumpy. When it rang again she snatched it up and sent her heart on another rollercoaster ride when she saw who was calling.

Chance McCoy.

* * *

They were at Jacob Weinstein’s house. Katherine, Juliet, Chance, and Jacob himself. Outside, the storm raged harder than ever.

Juliet and Chance stood on opposite sides of his living room avoiding eye contact with one another. Katherine on the other hand had made damn sure that everyone noticed the daggers she was throwing her way.

She couldn’t blame her. Juliet still cringed when she remembered the hurtful things she’d said about the woman’s son. The woman’s son who, as it turned out, was still inadvertently responsible for the danger she was in.

“What the hell is this supposed to mean?” Chance said, pulling out his phone.

Juliet had already seen the pictures he’d been sent. It was of the two of them outside the hospital Chip was in. Someone had caught them leaving, looking like the perfect couple supporting one another through a difficult period. In many ways, the two of them looked even more intimate than they would have had it been a series of shots of them actually having sex.

“Why would they send this to me today? Are they just trying to fuck with me? Is it Leo or Peter?”

“Chance,” Jacob said calmly, trying to defuse the situation. “It’s obvious one of them is trying to throw you off before the game. Shame on them. As to who it is?” He just shrugged.

“Apparently, whoever sent this is unaware of your recent…ah,” he looked toward Juliet, “return to the single life.”

“This is no time for joking Jacob.”

“What do they want with me?” Juliet finally asked. “Can’t you just tell them that I’m not even with him anymore.”

She couldn’t bring herself to say his name or look at him. Part of it was guilt. Part of it was shame. Part of it was anger. Part of it was what she would find looking back at her.

Did Chance hate her? Even now?

Just because he had called her in to this meeting—which she had every right to be at—didn’t mean that he had feelings for her. Anyone who looked at the two of them now, especially compared to that photo, could have known that much.

“At this point it would make no difference. The photos obviously did what they were meant to do. Look at you, Chance.”

Juliet finally looked Chance’s way. Even from across the room she could see how dark his eyes were. Despite everything, it made her fear for him and this upcoming game. Just because they had parted ways, didn’t mean she wanted him dead.

Pull yourself together, Chance.

Katherine put into action exactly what Juliet was thinking. She walked purposely toward her son and put one hand against his face.

“Hey you,” she said forcefully enough for him to focus on her. “You don’t think about these photos. You don’t think about her.” Juliet flinched at the way she spat that word. “You don’t even think about me or Chip. You think about what you’re good at. That’s poker.”

“If it makes you feel better, your mother and Juliet can stay here with me,” Jacob said. “Everyone knows this is neutral territory.”

Katherine turned to him with scorn. “I don’t need protection. I’m a big girl, a big girl with a gun. And I’m still a Vasiliev.”

Jacob chuckled at that and shrugged his shoulders.

That left Juliet. She was not a big girl with a gun and she certainly wasn’t a Vasiliev, whatever that meant.

As though reading her mind, Jacob turned a sympathetic eye toward her. “The offer stands. I’ve got some very good vodka, which you could no doubt use. I also make a mean pastrami sandwich. The secret is in the mustard.”

“I think that would be a good idea Juliet,” she heard Chance say. “You’ll be safe here.” It came out stiff, almost reluctantly. He still wouldn’t look her way.

That was about all she was getting from him.