Page 43 of Deadly Oath

I sent the man back to his boss the next day, once he seemed able to walk again. I drove him to the bus line at the edge of town, and told him that I expected that I wouldn’t see him again. If his boss knows what’s good for himself and the men working with him, I won’t see anyone involved with them again.

Sabrina is mine. I’m not going to allow anyone else to touch her on my watch. But it’s clear that my methods have frightened her, and I want a chance to make that right.

Without it, I lose everything. And I’m not willing to let that happen.

She meets me outside, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a loose cream-colored knit sweater that slides off of one shoulder distractingly, making me wonder if she picked it on purpose to torment mefor the entire trip. When she comes down the steps, one of them wobbles underneath her foot, and I gesture to it.

“I’ll fix that when we get back,” I tell her offhandedly, happy for another reason to prove to her that I’m just trying to help, and Sabrina flushes as if I’ve brought up some secret inside joke that I’m not aware of.

“Thanks,” she says, getting into the truck. “It almost tripped me the other night, walking outside.”

“Another good reason for you to stayinsideat night,” I retort, putting the truck into gear, and Sabrina narrows her eyes.

“Once you fix the step, I won’t have to worry about it, will I?” she retorts, turning away to look out of the window. A smile plays at the corners of my mouth, hearing her bite back like that.

I don’t care about the fact that she sounds irritated with me. The banter just means that our old dynamic is returning, the way things have been since we met, replaced with the coldness that sprang up over my methods of questioning. Now, she seems to have thawed a bit, and whatever reasons there are for that, I’m grateful for them.

I wouldn’t have expected her to be so squeamish about it. Not with what I know about her. But then again, it fits the image I had of her when I first met her. A spoiled, pampered princess, uprooted and put into a hovel. A finely bred creature entirely unprepared for work, or hardship, or to take care of herself.

But since then, I’ve seen glimmers that make me wonder if that characterization of Sabrina was entirely correct. Her determination to root out the source of the sounds that were frightening her. Her continued attempts to make friends in Rivershade. Her willingness to go out and enjoy the local flavor when I took her out on our dates.

And the way she was in bed?—

My jaw tightens, my cock twitching as I try not to linger too long on those thoughts. But they’re hard to banish. The memory of Sabrina on her back, on her knees, arching, moaning, begging—they’ve been with me every day since the moment they happened. She wasn’t a princess in bed. She didn’t behave like a frightened virgin. She was nervous—but she also rose to the occasion, and metmy passion with a desire that almost matched how badly I wanted her.

She didn’t want to admit how much she liked my treatment of her, but then again, I’ve known more than a few women who were slow to admit that they liked being treated like a whore in the bedroom.

“What did you do with him?” Sabrina asks finally. “The man youquestioned.”

“I sent him back where he came from. Alive,” I add pointedly. “He’ll recover soon enough. And I got what I needed to know.”

“But you’re not going to share it with me.”

“You’re safe, Sabrina,” I tell her firmly. “I’ll make sure of it. I don’t want you to spend all of your time obsessing over this. The man is gone, and I’ll make sure that you’re not bothered again.”

She leans back against the seat of the truck, her lips pursed. I can see her running over something in her head, and she nods finally, letting out a sharp breath.

“I do appreciate you looking out for me,” she says quietly. “I just—I don’t want to be dependent on you. I came here to live my own life. To do things for myself. And you’ve saved me too many times already.”

“Or just the right amount of times,” I counter, giving her a half-grin. Sabrina rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t argue, and I consider that a win.

When we pull up outside of the office building in Louisville, Sabrina grabs her purse. “I’ll go by myself,” she says quickly, before I can offer to come with her. “I’ll text you when I’m done, okay?”

“Sure,” I tell her affably. “Just let me know.”

I hadn’t expected her to want me to tag along, which is for the best, considering the fact that I have an appointment of my own. As soon as I knew Sabrina wanted me to take her to Louisville, I called a contact of mine, arranging to meet up while she was otherwise occupied.

That contact meets me at a small bar in a less savory part of town, one of those dives where, at this hour, there are only two old menhunched over a pint of beer each, muttering into their beers and squinting at the daylight as I open the door to walk in.

The man I’m supposed to meet is at a back table, a glass of water in front of him, a ball cap pulled down over his brow. I slide in opposite him, and he tilts his head up just a little.

“Brady.” He trips a little over the last name, and I don’t blame him.

“Connell.” I lean my elbows on the table, keeping my voice low. “Do you have what I asked for?”

He eyes me from underneath the brim of the cap. “I do. Bit of a strange request, but I’ve got them.” He reaches into the pocket of his jacket, slipping out a folded envelope, and sliding it to the middle of the table. His hand remains on it until I take out a similar envelope, this one filled with cash, and slide it next to the one his hand rests on. He takes the cash as I take the envelope he was holding, and I open it the slightest bit, peering inside.

The pills I asked for are there. I nod, slipping it into the inner pocket of my own leather jacket.

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