Page 29 of Ruthless Bonds

“I thought you were going to get away from all this? Stop stealing?”

His words jarred me back to reality, and I dug my nails into my palms. “I did.”

He raised his eyebrow.

My shoulders dropped. “I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice, Alora.”

The way he said my name had me nibbling on my bottom lip. He couldn’t possibly be upset that I’d given him a fake name before, could he?

“What are you going to do with me?” The anxiety of not knowing was unbearable. Dove was probably worried out of her mind by now. I had no idea what time it was, or how long I’d been away.

“I haven’t decided yet.” He leaned back in the chair, loosening his red tie. The movement drew my attention to the hollow of his throat, then up histattooed neck to his strong jawline. There was a hint of stubble there, like he hadn’t shaved in a day or two. Memories of me tracing the scar on his chin and over his lips filled my mind.

When our eyes met, he smirked, as if he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. My face heated, and I stared down at my clasped hands in my lap.

“Tell me why you had no choice. I want to know everything.” The smirk was gone, and so was that vision of him from six years ago. In its place was the same man who’d just slit someone’s throat with a hook.

I told him everything I could. Well, almost everything—I didn’t want to paint Dylan in a bad light by saying he’d stolen from me, so I kept that part out. I told him Dylan had fallen in with a dangerous crowd, and that he owed some bad people money. The motorcycle club he ran with had set up a score, but everything about it had gone wrong. I blamed it on miscommunication. There was no jewelry, just drugs. I told him about finding the body and someone setting the house on fire, about how we’d barely escaped. I left out the part about the coin and the man’s last words. I didn’t see how that would help anything. It was already too late for him, and nothing I could have done would have saved him. So why mention it?

Kreos listened intently, hanging on to every word. By the time I finished, a dull ache had settled behind my eyes. All I wanted to do was to get Dove and go home. After everything I’d just told him, I hoped it was enough for him to let me go.

I squeezed my eyes shut, rubbing my temples. The sound of him moving around the room had me opening one eye, keeping track of him as he walked toa bar filled with alcohol. He grabbed a crystal decanter filled with a dark liquid and poured two glasses. I watched him closely, making sure he didn’t put anything else in my drink.

He handed me a glass, our fingers brushing against each other. Little sparks of electricity shot through me, and I glared up at him accusingly, as if he’d done that on purpose.

The Scotch burned down my throat, but I didn’t mind. I needed the distraction. How had everything gotten so messed up?

He sat on the edge of his desk, never taking his eyes off me. “You could have called me. I would have helped you. Helped your brother with money.”

What—that wasn’t what I’d been expecting him to say. It seemed like a trick, and I wasn’t going to fall for it.

“I—didn’t have your number. I threw the card away the night you gave it to me.” My face heated at the lie, but if he suspected it, he didn’t let on. He only nodded, then took a sip of his drink.

“And your photography?”

I paused, my drink halfway to my lips. He remembered? I guessed he probably remembered every little thing about the people he met so he could use it against them one day. “I’m working on it.”

“Hmm.” He put his drink down and checked the time on his watch.

Hmm?It sounded more like a grunt of disapproval than anything. Un-freaking-believable. He didn’t know anything about me or the sacrifices I’d had to make, or the constant struggle to care for two kids when I was a kid myself. A fire burned in my chest at hisaudacity.

“I want to go home.” I stood and faced him.

He chuckled, the sound sending chills up my spine. “That’s awfully bold of you.”

“You owe me.” My hands balled into fists at my side.

He reached me in two steps, his eyes burning into mine. “You’re alive, aren’t you? If I hadn’t stopped Sergei—you don’t want to know what he would have done.” His nostrils flared with unmistakable anger as he gripped me by my upper arms.

“And you?” I raised my chin up, only inches from his face. “Is that the kind of monster you are now? You rape and torture women?” The words caught in my throat, leaving me almost unable to get them out. The thought of him doing something like that made me sick.

His jaw clenched, the disgust clear on his face. “I’m a lot of things, Miss Wolfe, but a rapist is not one of them.” He released me roughly, and I stumbled back a step. “Sit.” He pointed at the chair, and I did as he said, not willing to push him any more than I already had.

“If you were anyone else, you would be dead already. That’s the kind of man I am. You steal from me, you hurt my family, then I kill you. Count your fucking blessings you’re alive. We’re even. Understood?”

The air in the room was tense, like if you dared strike a match, everything would ignite in an inferno. I nodded, staring at the carpet. He watched me intently, tapping his finger against his glass. My whole body was a bundle of nerves, my leg bouncing up and down.

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