Page 13 of Deceitful Promises

“Don’t give me that look, dammit. I’m fine.”

“No action with the Sokolovs?”

“It couldn’t have gone any smoother.”

“So I won’t get any reports about bloodbaths at Bratva safe houses?”

“I don’t hurt people unless they hurt me.”

“Or people who don’t deserve to be hurt.”

I nod. “So stop asking me stupid questions.”

Dad grins. “Who raised you to be so impolite, eh?”

“How’s Henry?” I ask.

“Crying a lot. Smiling a lot. Loving a lot. How does it feel having a brother almost forty years younger than you?”

“Surreal, Dad.”

“In a good way?”

I can hear the hope in Dad’s voice. He wants everything to work out with Molly and this new family. “Of course. I can’t wait to see him grow up.”

I don’t bother to mention how badly I miss Mom. After her death several years ago, Dad was ruined. I never thought he was goingto move on. The sad truth is, the little kid in me wanted it that way: for Dad to grow old alone, to never love another woman. I see now how selfish that was. Anyway, I’m not a little kid anymore. Those sorts of thoughts are never helpful.

“Good, good,” Dad says. “How is she doing?”

“I think …” I almost say,She has an eating disorder, but then I stop myself. It’s not my place to share her personal details, especially since I haven’t confirmed it. “She’s scared. She’s trying to act tough. You should tell Molly that she’s here.”

Dad gets that I-know-best look in his eye. As CEOs go, he’s on the humbler side. Still, suppose any man makes billions through hard work, establishes security contracts with the military and other wealthy people, and has over fifty thousand employees in several locations. He’s going to develop a certain level ofconfidence. At least, that’s whathecalls it.

“I’ll make that decision,” he says with a sense of finality.

I shrug. “Anything else?”

“Have I upset you?” Dad asks.

“Upset me?” I repeat, laughing. “Is that a joke?”

“We’re all human.”

“See you tomorrow, old man.”

He grins. “Bye, son.”

I turn my phone facedown and run my hand through my hair, looking at the shattered bowl on the floor. I’ve done my best to mop up the soup, but there are still fragments of the bowl. I was cleaning just before Dad called. I replay the moment she threwit, the terror in her eyes. I used my special-ops mind to search for weaknesses, and I immediately saw it.

I don’t want to exploit her, use her to get info, or make her an informant. I want to help her. I help people all the time, but not in this way. Not when they knowI’mthe one who helped them.

I can’t stop thinking about how little she’s eaten. There’s hardly anything on her already. She’s beautiful and petite, but she shouldn’t be starving herself. Dammit. I go to the cupboard, get a long-life snack bar packed with protein, fat, and sugar, and go to her room.

“What?” she grunts when I knock.

“I’m …” I almost can’t say it, but I need to consider her health and well-being. No decent military man lets a prisoner perish on his watch, not that she’s a prisoner. “I’m sorry about before. You’re right. I shouldn’t be pressuring you.”

“Okay. Good.”

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