Page 113 of Sweet Sin

Miles clamps his hand over my lips, muffling my scream. “So you’re not meek little Savannah,” he whispers against my ear.

His hot breath makes me want to retch.

“Fine, I will hear you out. When I remove my hand now, Savannah, you’re not going to scream again. Is that clear?”

I can’t speak with his hand over my mouth, so clearly he wants me to either nod or shake my head.

So I do neither.

“You going to answer me?”

Again I do neither.

With his other hand, he wrestles with something and —

I go cold.

There it is. The nose of a gun against my back. He couldn’t have gotten it out of his ankle holster so quickly. He had it in his waistband, underneath his jacket.

Small town hospitals. They don’t check your belongings before they let you in.

Finally I nod.

“Good girl.” He removes his hand from my mouth slowly. I gasp in a breath.

“Now, tell me what you want, Savannah.”

“Put away the gun, Miles.”

“Are you crazy? You think you can make that kind of a request? That kind of a demand?”

“What are you going to do, shoot me? If you’re going to do that, you would’ve done it by now. I don’t think you can shoot me, Miles. I think there’s an agreement with our families, and if I’m dead, that agreement all goes away.”

He says nothing.

“So why don’t you tell me what that agreement is? Why you’re still after me all these years later? When we apparently came to a deal after I finished college?”

“That deal went away when you left your parole officer position in Austin.” He nudges the gun farther into my back.

I hold back a gasp, hold back a wince.

“So that’s what you want? You want me to go back to Austin, to my position there?”

I’ll do it. I’ll do it in a minute if it will spare Falcon.

“I’m afraid that deal’s off the table, you little bitch.”

Icicles hit my neck at his words. Not that he called me a bitch. But if he doesn’t want me back in the parole office, he obviously wants me for something else. And that could be anything.

“Tell me what you want,” I say, willing my voice not to stammer.

A caustic grin splits his face. “You’re going to be my bride, Savannah Gallo.”

I shake my head, calming the tremors inside me. “You don’t love me, despite what you said five years ago in that locked room.”

“No, I don’t. In fact, I hate you.”

Without thinking, I turn around, face him, his gun now pointed at my belly.

---