Page 113 of Broken Promises

And why wouldn’t he? I’m not his player anymore. My contract expired at the same time that buzzer went off signaling the end of the game. Then I retired. He owes me nothing.

I notice the light is on in Sinclair’s office and there’s no sign of Willa or Ben outside of it. She must be in there already. I hope Ben stayed with her. I pick up my pace, ignoring how stiff I’m getting. I don’t know Sinclair well enough to leave my wife alone with him.

“These things are really sharp.” I freeze at the voice and slowly turn around.

Jon. . . I mean, Patrick, is standing there, holding a skate in his hand and smiling at me like we’re old buddies.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” My voice is practically a growl.

“Eva sent me to give you a message,” he says, creepy smile still on his face.

“What message?” The question barely leaves my lips before his arm flies out. I’m too slow to stop it. I feel the burning pain of my skin splitting, my hand flying up to my throat. Hot, sticky blood coats my fingers and slides down my neck.

“Told you these things are sharp,” Patrick says, laughing and tossing the skate at my feet. My knees buckle, slamming to the floor. “You should really be more careful.”

My body falls to the side, too weak to do anything else. I have my hand to my throat, trying to stem the bleeding, but it won’t be much use if someone doesn’t find me soon. I watch Patrick’s retreating form. He’s still laughing.

The edges of my vision blur, and I know this is it. The last thing I hear before everything goes black is the sweet and scared voice of the most beautiful woman in the world.

FIFTY-THREE

willa

“I appreciate you meeting with us,”I tell Anderson Sinclair. He’s sitting behind his large and shiny mahogany desk, fingers steepled under his chin. He’s intimidating, and I wish Declan was in here with me already. Ben sitting in the chair next to me is the only reason I’m relatively calm right now.

“What is it you need from me, Mrs. Monroe?”

“I think we should wait for Declan,” Ben says, nervously scratching his beard. He meets my eyes, and I frown. There’s something different about him. He darts his gaze away before I can think too much about it.

Turning back to Sinclair, I smile at him. “Declan would want to be here, but the truth is, this is more of my problem than his.”

He sighs and glares at me. “Let me guess. You’re cheating on Declan with him,” he says, gesturing to Ben with his chin. “Or is Declan the one cheating? How long do I have until it hits the press?”

My jaw drops at his assumptions, but quickly closes when Ben bursts out in laughter.

“You clearly have no idea how obsessed those two are with each other if that’s what you think this is about.”

Sinclair frowns, but waves his hand in front of him, a silent order to explain ourselves. I nod and quickly glance at Ben before taking a deep breath and blurting out everything that’s been going on and why we need his help with Eva. More specifically, his help to protect Ezra if we call him back. To his credit, Sinclair doesn’t even blink. He leans back in his dark leather chair, his eyes locked with mine like he’s looking for the punch line or maybe the lie. He’ll find neither.

“And you think Ezra has something I want?” Sinclair says, breaking the silence.

“He does,” Ben says confidently. I smile at him. He doesn’t know that. Hell, I don’t even know that for certain. It’s the theory we’re working with that makes the most sense. But Ben promised to help Declan, and he’s sitting here next to me doing just that.

“At the minimum, he has something Eva wants so desperately that she’s willing to go to any lengths to get it,” I amend, not wanting to make false promises to someone as dangerous as the man sitting in front of me.

“Or hide it from people that would be furious about it,” Ben adds.

“That seems likely, from what I’ve heard about her,” Sinclair says, his focus still on me. “And you’re confident you can get Ezra?”

“Yes.” It’s the one thing I am confident about right now. I know the moment we call that number, he’ll come. We may be coming up on eight years since any of us last saw Ezra, but I have a hard time believing he’s changed enough to ignore a call for help.

Sinclair opens his mouth to say something but freezes when manic laughter and a large thump comes outside of his office. He flies out of his seat. I’m right behind him with Ben on my heels.

I can feel all the color drain from my face the moment I see what’s in front of me. My legs are moving, a scream wrenching itself from my throat before I have time to stop it.

“Declan!” I shout, my hands automatically moving to the wound at his throat and putting pressure on it. His hot blood seeps between my fingers, and I push harder. “Help me!” I scream. Ben is suddenly next to me, checking the pulse in Declan’s wrist.

“Sinclair is calling for help. His pulse is slow, but it’s there.”

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