Page 52 of Deadly Oath

Marie texts me again, and I can almost hear the wheedling note in her voice, pleading for me to come out with them. And the truth is—I want to. I don’t love seeing Cindy, but drinks with Marie and even Daphne sound fun. Dancing at the Crow Bar again sounds fun. And I don’t want to turn them down just because Kian thinks I should stay in the house.

The bar is in the middle of town,I reason, drifting towards my dresser as I try to come up with excuses for why this would be acceptable. These men, if they really are after me, aren’t going to come into such a public place, or even try something near the bar. If anything, I tell myself as I fish out a dark denim skirt and a silky blouse, I’m safer there, with so many people around.

I know, deep down, that I’m just making excuses because I want to go. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Kian would disagree with my reasoning for even a second.

But before I can change my mind again, I’m already pulling on the skirt, texting Marie that I want her to come pick me up.

—

Thirty minutes later,I’m sitting at the Crow Bar with another of that same bourbon drink that Kian ordered for me when we were here, sipping at the honey-sweetened bourbon and sitting next to Marie, Daphne, and Cindy on her other side. Marie is more dressed up than I’ve ever seen her, in an eyelet dress with a denim jacket over it, her hair curled at the ends. “Greg agreed to watch the kids tonight,” she says with a grin, nursing a light beer that she takes small sips out of every few minutes. “It feels like forever since we’ve had a girls’ night out like this.”

“I’m surprised you had time, since you’ve got that sexy sheriffpaying you so much attention,” Cindy chirps in my direction, waving the bartender down for another cranberry vodka. “I certainly wouldn’t be doing anything else if he was paying attention to me.”

“Well, that’s why he’s with her and not you,” Daphne says drily, taking a sip of her Jack and Coke. “Men like a woman who has a life of her own, you know. My husband likes that I do things without him. Keeps it interesting. We have things to talk about when we come back from whatever we’re doing separately.”

“I love hearing about Greg’s trips,” Marie agrees. “Even if it’s tough juggling the kids when he’s on the road, I like hearing about all his adventures.”

“You probably wouldn’t like hearing aboutallof them,” Cindy says, laughing, and Daphne shoots her a dirty look.

“I know the guys go to strip clubs and all of that,” Marie says defensively. “I don’t mind, as long as he comes and eats at home, if you know what I mean.”

“Marie!”Daphne exclaims, and I can’t help but laugh, too, as startled as anyone else to hear Marie say something so close to being dirty.

“What about you?” Cindy asks, leaning forward to look at me, clearly still intent on starting shit. “Would you care if Kian went to a strip club?”

“Well, we’re not exactly dating, so I don’t think I have any say.” I roll my eyes a little, and Marie laughs, Daphne joining in a moment later. Cindy looks miffed that she didn’t get a rise out of me, but I don’t care. And truthfully, I can’t help but think how ludicrous of a question it is, in light of my old life—a life where husbands routinely cheat on their wives, have mistresses, and pay for memberships to exclusive, million-dollar sex clubs. A run-of-the-mill strip club is nothing compared to the debauchery that mafia husbands get up to.

Another round of drinks is ordered, as the band starts to play again, and I’m thoroughly glad that I came. Even if Kian finds out and is pissed at me, I’m glad I didn’t miss out on this evening. This is what I need more of—nights like this that make me feel like I actually belong here.

That makes menotmiss my old life, but actually start to be glad for my new one.

As the music picks up, we toss back the rest of our drinks, order another round, and head out onto the floor to dance. I hold my drink in one hand, taking sips of it as we dance and laugh and trip a little before picking the rhythm back up, and for the first time, other than the hours I’ve spent with Kian, not a single part of me wants to be anywhere else.

Maybe this could be home, eventually,I think as I dance with the girls, finishing off my third drink. I’m feeling buzzed, my head swimming—I’ve never drank this much before, ever—and the urge to text Kian hits me. He’s going to be upset that I went out—but if I lured him with the promise of more fun in bed together, back to my place, I have a feeling he’d get over it relatively quickly.

I reach for my phone, only to realize that it’s not in my pocket. A quick glance at the bar tells me that it’s not there, either, and I realize that I must have left it in Marie’s minivan.

“I’m going to go get my phone!” I tell Marie over the music. “I’ll be right back.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” She steps away from the dance floor with me, but I shake my head.

“It’s right outside. I’ll be back in just a second.”

“Okay.” She flashes me a smile, taking another sip of her beer as she starts to dance again, and I quickly head for the door to go and grab my phone. My heart is already racing at the idea of seeing Kian, the alcohol making me forget every reason why it might be a bad idea to admit to him that I went out drinking. Ihaven’tforgotten what he did to me the last time we were together, or how it made me feel.

The way he used me again after his shower was degrading, humiliating—and gave me an explosive orgasm. I want to find out what other things he can show me that will make me feel that way.

The air outside is cool, chilling a little of my buzz as I head for the minivan, but not enough to keep it from taking me three tries to open the door. I finally get it open, leaning over the passenger’s seat to get my phone out of the center console, when I feel a hard, thick armslide around my waist, yanking me backward before I can even think to resist.

“Well, this was easy,” I hear, drawled in my ear as I regain my senses enough to start to fight back. “Wait—someone hand me the drug! She’s squirmin’!”

Drug?I kick harder, wrenching around to try to see who it is that has me in this iron grip against his chest. He smells of sweat and cigarettes, and I flail in his grasp, twisting and kicking at his shins.

“Goddamn, girl, cut it out!” the man snarls, one hand grabbing both of my arms to keep me from scratching at him. “Hurry the fuck up!” he shouts at someone else, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a burly man heading towards me and my captor.

I have no idea what they’re going to do to me, but I don’t want to find out. I open my mouth to scream, but before I can get a sound out, a heavy, greasy hand is clamped over my mouth, and I’m being dragged backward into the shadows.

I throw everything I can into fighting them. I squirm, I kick, I scream against the heavy hand anyway, but the man pulls me into an alleyway next to the bar, the other man approaching from the side. I try to twist away, hard, but before I can do more than throw my weight to one side, I feel the prick of something sharp in the side of my neck.

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