Page 54 of Sinful Promise
“I already promised forever,” he breathes. “There are no limitations on that, Mayet. But just because Micah thinks he has a theory doesn’t make it so.”
“Archer—”
“Let him think what he wants. He can’t know I have an alibi for the night of Dowel’s murder.”
“You do?” I pull back and search his eyes. “You have an alibi?”
“Anunbreakablealibi. So if other folks wanna start playing connect-the-dots, they’ll fall over on Justin Dowel. Let Micah think what he wants, because I don’t want him thinking aboutyouat all. If he’s looking, it’s purely for his own curiosity. Not because he’s taking it to the cops.”
“So we let your family think you’re the vigilante?” This doesn’t feel real. It doesn’t feel right. “But if anyone outside the family asks, we present an alibi?”
“No, babe. We don’t confirm or deny or discuss the vigilante with anyone. Ever. Micah goes along thinking what he wants to, and there’s no reason for anyone else to connect my name, yours, or the vigilante’s. None of this connects.”
“Well, obviously it does,” I growl, “since Micah is drawing those lines. What’s stopping others from doing the same?”
“Micah takes care of family.” Stepping forward, he forces me away from the door and all the way to the foot of the bed. Then he shoves, so I land on my ass with a thump, and a dangerous snarl rolls along my throat.
Lowering to his knees with a grin, he works the heels from my feet. “He’s got a bug up his ass andthinkshe sees a pattern. He hyper-focuses on strings of information, Minka.” Having removed one shoe, he looks down and goes to work on the second. “And because I’m his brother, he thinks that pattern relates to me. That means he’s going to dial in and juxtapose my face into every situation. It’s what he does.”
“How did he know you were in New York?” A soft whimper escapes my throat when he removes the second heel and my feet relax in their new freedom. “If you weren’t there to see him, how could he know?”
He presses his thumb to the bottom of my heel and massages until I’m tempted to lie back and groan. “I have no clue,” he admits softly. “I didn’t know he was aware I was there. I didn’t stop in and see them. I didn’t even use my proper ID when I was flying, so it’s not like he pulled the information that way.” Then he shrugs. “Like I said, he watches the details. For all I know, he’s got my face on a fucking airport watchlist.”
“Why’d you go there?” I force my eyes open and study him in the low evening light. The way his cheeks warm with a blush, and how his eyes shutter with embarrassment.
My imagination demands he followed a woman to New York. A fast fuck with a loose lover. So when his hand makes its way along my calf, I pull away from his touch and sit on the end of the bed with my legs crossed. Schoolroom-style. “Why did you go to New York, Archer?”
Dejected because I won’t let him touch me, he sits back on his haunches and exhales. “I was looking for someone.”
“Who?”
When he reaches out, I brush his hand away again and feel that stab of guilt when his gaze darkens. Danger. Threat.
“Who were you searching for? You’d been away half of your lifetime. It’s not like you even had old flings to visit, since Jill was your only New York girlfriend. So who?”
“Minka, I don’t want to—”
“Who?”
“My mom.” He sighs and allows his eyes to go anywhere but toward mine. “I ask around about her sometimes. Especially if I catch a contact who might’ve known my dad before I was born. Last year, I caught a tip about this woman who maybe fit the profile, so I flew over to check things out.”
“Oh…” I study my husband, on his knees and somewhat fidgety. Then I open my legs, set my feet on the floor, and shuffle forward until I can lower and straddle his lap.
My knees sit high, because of our odd position, but I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in tight until his hair is in my nose and his ear nestles against my neck. “Did you find her?” I press a kiss to the top of his head. “Isn’t she…”
Dead.
He wraps his arms around my torso and squeezes until it almost hurts. “It was a bad lead, so I let it go and came home. Turns out, my future wife was busy murdering men that same night.”
“Ha.” An awkward snicker rolls along my throat as I think back on that night.
The first man I ever killed. The first I could no longer walk away from. And while I snuck around in dark alleyways and waited for an intoxicated rapist to walk into my knife, Archer was all alone in a massive city and searching for his mom.
“The timing is funny,” I grant. “But not, like, funny-ha-ha.”
“Nope.” Pulling back, he takes advantage of our position and brushes hair off my shoulder. He kisses my collarbone, then chuckles when a soft moan rolls free of my chest. “Things are rarely funny-ha-ha when we’re involved. Are you done freaking out yet?”
“About Micah?”
