Page 41 of Deadly Oath

“I told you, I questioned him,” he says tightly. “He wasn’t being very forthcoming. I had to urge things along a little.”

“Urge—” I swallow hard, a sick feeling swirling in my stomach. “You hurt him!”

“Don’t be naive, princess,” Kian growls, his patience clearly fraying. “He was going to hurtyou. It was more important to get answersfrom him than to worry about what sort of state he was going to be in after.”

I blink, feeling the same kind of stunned shock that I felt the day that I watched Kian violently kill the rattlesnake in front of me. There’s another side to this man, one that doesn’t entirely fit the picture he’s presenting to everyone else—the one he’s tried to mostly present tomefrom the very start.

Glancing back at the man in the cell, I feel sure that he isn’t going to talk to me. I’m fairly sure that he isn’t going to talk toanyoneright now, that he’s too traumatized from whatever it is that Kian did to him to make him talk before. And when I look back at Kian, all I feel is fear.

This is the kind of thing that the men I left behind do. The kind of thing I hadn’t imagined Kian being capable of. I knew he was raw and brutal, a fighter, but there’s a difference between that and a man who tortures. Kian is clearly the latter, and fear spirals through me, making me feel nauseated.

“I want to go home,” I whisper, and Kian raises an eyebrow.

“After all that argument to get me to bring you here?—”

“Stop!” I shout the word, louder than expected in the quiet of the cells. I think I see the man flinch in my periphery, but I can’t be sure. “This isn’t what I expected. And I don’t want to be here with it any longer.”

“I’m the same man who was with you last night,” Kian says quietly, and I shake my head.

“I don’t know if I believe that. Just take me home.”

“Sabrina—” There’s a note in his voice that makes me think he’s going to try to smooth this over, but I want no part of it.

“If I had any other way to get there, I’d take it,” I tell him sharply, refusing to look him directly in the eye. I can’t, not right now. I don’t want to feel the things he makes me feel. I don’t want them to break through my anger, not here. And if I look directly at him, I’m afraid they might. “But other than disturbing Marie late at night or walking, there isn’t. So just take me home. Please.”

Kian draws in a long, slow breath, but he nods finally, fishing hiskeys out of his pocket as he leads me out of the station and back to his truck. We ride in silence all the way back to my house, and when Kian parks the truck and comes around to open my door, I don’t look at him as I slide out. His arm catches me around the waist all the same, keeping me from slipping past him and backing me against the truck.

“Let me go.” I try to say it as clearly as I can manage, but my voice shakes a little, caught somewhere between fear and the jolt of desire that I feel as he cages me in. “I want to go back to bed.”

Kian looks down at me as if he’s trying to determine just how serious I am. And then, finally, he backs up, giving me the space to walk past him, straight to my front door without looking back.

I close the door behind me, leaning up against it as tears brim at my lashes. I hear the sound of Kian’s truck starting, the sound of him driving away, and I feel more confused than ever torn between being glad he’s left and disappointed that he didn’t come after me. My chest aches, and when I think of the man in the cell, all I feel is confused fear.

He didn’t look like anyone I’ve ever seen before. He definitely didn’t look like the kind of man who worked for the Bratva back in Chicago. Not for my father, and not for my father’s rival, either. So what was he doing outside of my house?

I should have asked Kian what he knew. I should have asked him what he found out, instead of being horrified at the methods he used. But I still don’t know how to reconcile that with the man who, just twenty-four hours ago, was kissing me as if he’d die without my mouth against his.

Sighing, I push myself away from the door, heading back to my room.It will make more sense in the morning,I tell myself, and I hope with everything in me that that’s true.

—

In the morning,however, I only feel more conflicted and confused. I wake up to a text from Marie asking me if I want to go and get coffee, and I tell her yes, if only because I need a distraction. And I need someone to talk to about Kian.

“You look tired,” Marie comments when I slide into the minivan. “I’m sorry,” she adds quickly. “You don’t look bad. Just like you didn’t sleep well last night. I mean?—”

“I know what you mean,” I reassure her with a small smile. “I didn’t. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Kian?” Marie guesses, and I nod. “Did he text you?”

I hesitate just long enough to consider what I actually want to tell her. I don’t want to invite more questions about my past, or tell the whole truth about why I’m here. I can’t tell her about the man sneaking around my house, or why I thought I might have recognized him. And I don’t really want to tell her that Kian might have tortured a man.

So whatdoI say?

“He didn’t,” I tell her, which is the truth. “I just—I’m not sure about things. I’m not sure about him. It’s casual, so I don’t feel like I can pry too deeply. And I’m not sure I want him prying into me. But I also feel like I don’t know him very well, and it’s—well, it’s making me nervous.”

“That’s understandable,” Marie says sympathetically, pulling into the coffee shop. “I knew my Greg since high school. I can’t imagine starting to see someone I barely knew. I can imagine that it might be exciting,” she adds. “But not for me. I don’t even know what I’d do.”

“So, whatdoyou know about Kian?” I ask as we walk up to the counter. “Or—what do you think of him? I know you and the others were so positive about the two of us…seeing each other, but—” I bite my lip, unsure of what exactly I’m trying to say. “Do you think he’s a good guy?”

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