tasted like pennies.
Peter crouched beside me, his expensive trousers touching the blood on the marble.
“Reyes. Look at me.”
I did.
His face was different up close. Younger than I had thought, maybe thirty-two. Dark hair, gray eyes, a little scar beside his left eyebrow.
I knew that scar.
“You were at the railway station,” I said.
His fingers locked around continue reading …
