Page 67 of Sweet, Sweet Jewel: A Sweet Treats Novel

Is that the only reason?

Finn pursed his lips and focused on his room door.

That was open.

He stopped in his tracks, muscles coiling and a warning bell going off in his head. The door was slightly ajar, but he was sure he’d locked it securely when he left with Jewel earlier.

Someone was inside.

Finn’s hands automatically went for the clip he normally kept under his shirt. His fingers grasped air. He’d left the gun in his vault so he didn’t scare Jewel with the sight of it.

Big mistake.

Finn cursed himself for the misstep.

He’d just have to go in alone.

Footsteps light and purposeful, he crept toward his room and eased the door open. It gave way with a foreboding creak.

Great. He’d just announced his entrance to anyone inside.

Slowly, he inched forward, his head whipping left and right. The room was dark. The bed neatly spread thanks to Jewel and her insistence that she leave the place ‘better than she found it’.

The desk and chair. Empty.

The balcony. Empty.

His eyes slid to the bathroom before moving to the closet that hid the vault where he kept his gun. Deciding quickly, he ran to the closet and thrust it open only to be hit with a shocking jolt of electricity.

Pain pulsed through his veins, doused every inch of his skin.

Finn dropped like a rock.

His eyes were the only parts of him that could move. He rolled them up and found a small object still hissing and buzzing as it siphoned electricity. A hand was attached to what he now saw was a Taser.

A man stepped out of the closet. His footsteps thudded against the floor like muted thunder. Army boots. Big and bulky. Cargo pants.

Finn struggled to lift his head, but he couldn’t even manage that.

An oily voice pierced the air. “Hello, Mr. Robinson. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Finn struggled to identify the stranger’s face, but in the shadows of the room and from his vantage point on the floor, he couldn’t.

“W-who are you?” Finn rattled out past his trembling lips. The electricity bound around his muscles like a whip, tethering him to the floor and clattering his bones.

The man knelt, a patient, languorous movement that made Finn wonder if he had a flair for the dramatics. His knee hit the ground and he looked down.

Finn could feel his disdain like waves crashing against his body. He strained to look up, skimming past the dark shirt the intruder wore and up to his head.

His face was sharp with an exaggeratedly square jaw line and a broad forehead. A dark beard shaded the skin around his lips. His hair was cropped short, military style. Dark eyes pierced his.

“I’m the man that you’ve been looking for,” he said. “Seven years of your life. Down the drain. All because of me.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. “I guess, in a way, I’m your master too.”

Rage boiled in Finn’s gut. He struggled to move, but his joints were locked solid. He was a helpless ragdoll trapped in his own body.

The man who’d killed his sister was right in front of him and he couldn’t do anything about it.

His nostrils flared as he pried his lips apart and spit the name, “Kross.”

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