Page 134 of Stabby Little

I actually stand a chance with Grant. He's also played with younger men, so our age gap might not be a dealbreaker, either.

For a moment, I'm on top of the world. My eyes lock on Grant's as a bubble of passion balloons between us. I want to set my utensils down, walk to his side, and sit on his lap. I want to do the things I did to my mystery man in the Little Bunny Club, dress up in my kitty gear, and give Grant a night he'll never forget.

That's when everything comes crashing down. Sometimes, you need to be on top of the world in order for fate to push you to your knees.

Grant ticks his head up. "I need to ask you something, Ollie."

At this point, I still assume we're chatting about his sexuality, so I nod. "Go for it."

His eyes lock on mine. At once, I know this concerns something far more serious.

"Odd things have been happening in this city. Spikes in violent crime."

I set my roll on my plate. "I don't follow the news much. I haven't really noticed."

"A man was murdered in his Brooklyn home last month." Grant drags his gaze across my face. "Another was killed in a seedy bar known for Mafia associations. Do you know anything about this?"

"No."

Grant places his palms on the table. "Tell me about this place you escaped from. Where was it?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure. I think Wisconsin."

"I want to help you, Ollie." Grant's voice turns deadly. "But I can't if you're not honest with me."

My heart pounds in my chest as I pry my eyes away from Grant's. I want to tell him the truth. But I can't.

Every time I told the men my truth in the warehouse, they used it against me. Jack tried to inject me with the so-called HIV preventative before I escaped. He was supposed to be on my side, but he lied to me. My clients promised to break me out, too, but they never did. If anything, learning about my circumstance only inspired them to hurt me more.

It hits me that I don't know the first thing about Grant's life. He hasn't told me anything about his profession or who he works for. He's knowledgeable about crime in the city, but that could indicate anything.

Is he a cop?

An FBI agent?

Does he work for the bureau of crime statistics?

If I judge him incorrectly, he could ruin me.

"I can't tell you." I stare at my plate. "After everything that's happened, it's hard to trust people. I no longer know when someone's lying to me."

Grant crosses the room and takes my hand in his. "I want to keep you safe."

My eyes burn, but I force myself to stay strong. "How do I know I can trust you?"

I stare into his eyes. He reaches out and wipes my tears from my cheeks as he squeezes my hand.

Grant gets on his knees and holds my hand tight. "I spent the last seven fucking years searching for you. There's no chance I'll use anything you say against you. If someone's hurt you, I want to make them pay."

I blow out a breath. This is a pivotal moment. If I confide in Grant, my secret's out there. It'll no longer exist between me, Finn, and Sparrow.

"Pinky promise." I stick out my pinky.

Grant extends his right hand. It's covered in a bandage, but he presses it against mine. "I had an accident, but let's pretend it's intertwined with yours."

I nod. "I'm getting revenge on the men who hurt me."

"Who hurt you?"

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