Page 40 of Deadly Oath

The heat between us has fled for the moment, the chilly night air creeping in instead. I look up at him determinedly, refusing to back down. “You don’t get to keep secrets from me about my own life,” I tell him flatly. “I need to know. Iwantto know.”

He huffs out a breath that clouds the air between us, running a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he says, his expression as irritated as mine is. “When I went outside to check on things after I left you, I found a man back here, about to look in your window. I grabbed him and took him back to the station.”

“And?” I press, and Kian’s eyes narrow. I can tell his patience with me is beginning to run thin, but I can’t bring myself to really care at this particular moment. I want to know what’s going on.

“I questioned him.” There’s something evasive in his tone, and I latch onto it.

“What do you mean,questionedhim?” I’m not naive to the ways that men like my father’s enforcersquestionedpeople that they thought had answers for them. My father tried to shield me from it, but I still heard things.

But Kian isn’t a Bratva enforcer. He’s asheriff. A small town law enforcement agent. The kinds of tools my father’s men employed would never be a part of anything he would do. I can’t imagine it.

Can’t I? Kian might be a sheriff in Rivershade, but I think of the hungry man who barged into my house, another man’s blood still flaking off of his knuckles. Couldn’t I imagine that man doing something more brutal than just asking questions?

“I got some information from him,” Kian says flatly. “He’s not someone you need to worry about, Sabrina. It’s a law enforcement matter, and I’ll deal with it.”

“Is he still at the jail?” I ask, and once again, Kian hesitates. “That answers that. I want to see him.”

“What? No.” Kian shakes his head. “Absolutely not.”

“I want to see if he’s anyone that I recognize.”

“Why would he be?” Kian challenges, and my stomach tightens.

I don’t want to tell Kian about who I was before this. We’re not there yet, and I don’t know if we ever will be. Right now, I only want him to see me for what my present is, not my past.

Although right now, I’m so angry with him that I don’t really care how he sees me at all.

“You’re not being very forthcoming,” I tell him tightly. “So I don’t need to be either. But I want to see the man who tried to break into my house—or was snooping around it, at the very least. You can take me there now, just the two of us, or I can show up tomorrow at the station and make a scene.”

I tighten my arms around myself, tipping my chin up as I look at Kian defiantly. “But either way, I’m going to see him.”

16

SABRINA

Twenty minutes later, we’re at the jail, Kian having finally relented. Kian’s posture is tense, and I can tell that he’s unhappy with all of this. But I want to see who it is that was frightening me at night. I want to see what I need to be afraid of.

It’s better to know your enemy, I think. I didn’t know, before, that the person who wanted me gone was someone I should fear. I had sat down at the table with him at dinners and danced with him at galas and known that he and my father were not friends, but that their rivalry was one of business. I hadn’t believed it was personal, or that I needed to concern myself with it, until one day I knew that it was—and knew that I did.

I don’t want to be blindsided again.

“Follow me,” Kian says curtly, and I feel a twist in my chest as I wonder if this is going to come between us to the point that this thing that’s sprung up between us will end just as quickly. I don’t want that to happen—even as angry as I am with Kian right now, deep down, I don’t want the first time to be the only time. I can feel the tug of the attraction between us, the desire, and I want more of it.

But I also want control over my own life. And I’m not about to cede it to him just because he believes he knows best.

Kian leads me to the cells behind the station. It’s silent and dark, and he flicks on the lights, revealing cold tile floors and forbidding metal bars. I shiver as we walk in, and I see that all the cells are empty except for one. In that one, close to the back, a man is handcuffed and lying on a long bench.

“There.” Kian gestures. “Feel free to see if you recognize him. But I doubt he’s going to say anything to you.”

I walk closer to the bars, feeling my heart beat harder in my chest. I feel anxious, jittery, wondering if I’m about to see a face from my past. Someone who has managed to track me down even here.

I feel sure, as soon as the man comes into clear view, that he’s no one I’ve ever seen before. He appears to be in his thirties, but his skin is weathered, his chin stippled with rough stubble. His eyes are closed, and a small bit of saliva has gathered at the corner of his mouth. He’s wearing just his shirt and a pair of boxers, and a series of what look like red burns, purpled around the edges, are dotted all the way down his legs.

“Hello?” I ask tentatively, stepping closer. The man groans, shifting on the bench, but he says nothing. He doesn’t open his eyes, and I take a step closer still, wrinkling my nose at how badly he smells. “I?—”

I can’t think of what to say. The man doesn’t seem to be entirely in control of all of his faculties, and he’s clearly injured. I turn to where Kian is standing with his arms crossed, his expression stone-faced, and I stare at him for a long moment, looking at the man and then back again at Kian.

“Did you do this?” I ask, gesturing at the man, and Kian gives me a frustrated look.

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