Page 16 of Ruthless Vow

Leo ends the call. He grabs the cart and moves it to the far wall, well beyond my reach, then, without looking at me, stalks out of my line of sight.

I hear the whir of an electric motor and the chain above me lowers even more, until I can drop my hands all the way down. I can’t stifle the sound of relief that escapes my lips.

Then I feel something nudge the backs of my legs. A padded stool with a low back. I settle on it with a sigh.

Behind me, Leo bangs on something metal. A second later, there’s a metallic creak. I twist my head to the side.

“Leo,” I call.

He pauses in the open doorway but doesn’t turn.

“Tell me the truth,” I say.

“About what?” his tone is cold and bored.

“The woman who took seven hours to die. Why did you kill her?”

He takes so long to answer that I think he is going to ignore my question and just walk away.

Finally, he says, “She and her husband were running a human trafficking ring. Young girls. Pre-teens. They kept them drugged to keep them compliant. They took the daughter of a man who worked for my cousin as a gardener. The girl died before we could recover her. Fentanyl overdose.”

The crazy thing is, his answer doesn’t surprise me. There he goes, being all Captain America again. Like, a Captain America who doesn’t mind spilling a whole lot of blood.

“Why did you kiss me?” I whisper.

He takes even longer to answer.

“Because I wanted to and you didn’t say no.”

He doesn’t say good-bye. He just closes the door behind him and literally leaves me hanging there.

6

Leo

Charlie is a cat.A fucking cat.

The relief I felt when Nicole said that makes no sense.

My fascination with her makes no sense.

That kiss. That fucking kiss.

Nicole Milano is not beautiful, not in the conventional sense. Her cheekbones are high and a little too sharp. Her jaw a little too strong. Her nose a little too long. Her brows are dark and full over piercing brown eyes. The ragged haircut she gave herself is terrible, but it’s actually flattering, the wisps of bangs and the strands that hug her cheeks softening her face. With her wrists bound above her head, she had no way to slouch. She’s taller than I thought. Five-foot-nine or ten.

No, Nicole is not beautiful if you take her apart, feature by feature.

But put it all together and she’s sleek and lustrous, agile, streamlined. Arresting. Magnificent. How the fuck did I not notice any of this before she tried to kill me?

Flashes of memory flicker in my thoughts. Late at night, when I’d been working for twelve hours straight, Nicole setting abottle of cold water and a sandwich on my desk though I hadn’t asked for them. Issuing a soft order, “Eat.” And I ate.

Nicole accompanying me to a meeting with the mayor. He’d been testy, slippery, avoiding committing to my request that he ensure that a certain investigation by law enforcement be dropped. She’d silently handed him a single sheet of paper, a bullet-point summary of all our campaign contributions. Nothing untoward. All legitimate. But the sight of the physical list had been enough to push the mayor into a commitment. I hadn’t even known she’d prepared it.

Nicole sitting with me in my father’s office two days after his death. With tears in her eyes, she’d poured two glasses of Macallan single malt scotch, my father’s favorite whiskey. She’d put one on his desk beside his chair and set the second in front of me. Then she sat down beside me and didn’t say a word. Just let me have that final moment of memory with my father as I slowly drank the whiskey.

Only in retrospect do I see the care she’d offered and the fact that I’d liked it.

I’d thought she’d mourned my father right along with me. And I still believe that, despite all I’ve discovered, because I saw the pain and heartbreak etched in her face.

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