Page 152 of Save Me

“It was me,” I finally admit.

CHAPTER 44

Kennedy

“Nothing is what it seems,” I mumble.

It hurts to breathe.

As I stare into Dae’s dark eyes, the memories from over a decade ago hit me like a tidal wave. He was that boy in the alleyway. The one I saw getting pummeled by three other guys.

The one who ran away that I thought I’d never see again.

I should’ve made the connection sooner.

Maybe somewhere along the line I had. The dreams I had, the sensation that I’d met Dae before. I probably knew long before I found the handkerchief in his nightstand.

I glance around the room but don’t see the broken furniture, shattered glass, or destroyed decor.

“You’re bleeding,” Dae says, and his voice crashes through the ringing in my ears. He steps in my direction but stops when I hold up the wooden stick.

“Don’t.”

He pauses, and his gaze falls to my arm, presumably where the blood runs down it from the shard of glass that pierced my flesh.

Fear doesn’t linger in his gaze. At least not the fear of being struck by me. It’s as if he’s afraid for me, like he hates the idea of me being in pain.

Shaking my head, I step away from him. I refuse to think like that. To think that this psychotic son of a bitch who locked me in his fucking house cares about me.

What a joke.

“You’re hurt,” he says by way of explanation.

I scoff. “I’ll fucking say.”

But it has nothing to do with the blood running down my arm.

“You’re a conniving, lying son of a bitch,” I snarl.

“I never lied to you. I just never told you—”

I cut his lies off. “What about this?” I dig into the pocket of my jeans and pull out Preston Waters’ business card.

He squints and then hardens his face as he stares at the business card.

“You’re friends with my fucking boss,” I yell. “How long?”

He shakes his head. “We’re not friends. He’s a member of the club. I’ve told you that.”

“Do you keep all members’ business cards in your nightstand?”

His jaw tightens.

My heart sinks because his refusal isn’t immediate.

“Did you …” I have to push the rest of the question out. “Are you the reason he hired me at The Regal?”

He shakes his head. “No,” he insists. “Not entirely.”

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