Page 18 of Deadly Passion

“There’s a leaky pipe,” I say defiantly. “I’m already covered. Why don’t you tell me the real reason, huh?”

He straps on his big boy panties and decides to be honest. “I want to know the truth.”

Our eyes meet. As much as there is anger behind his baby blues, there’s something else too. Hurt. I swallow down my feelings of guilt and remember he’s one of the reasons I’m chained here.

“The truth?” I scoff. “Can we reschedule the interrogation until I have proper clothes?”

“Did you know who I was when we met at the launch party?”

Really? That’s what he came here to ask? I expected to be quizzed about the Killers Club operations: when I joined them, how many people I’ve killed, who their clients are… but not this.

“Why does that matter?” I ask. “You know who I really am now.”

“Answer the question,” he commands.

“Fine.” I sigh. “No, okay? I didn’t know who you were when we first met.”

His brows furrow as he studies me. I’m not sure what he’s expecting to see. A flashing light above my head to confirm I’m telling the truth? A buzz on an invisible lie detector machine only he can hear?

“Why did you go on a date with me?”

“Seriously?” My eyes bulge. “Out of all the questions you could ask, this is what you choose to go with?”

He buries his hands in his navy trouser pockets and shrugs. “Freddie will ask you the real questions tomorrow. These are for my own personal curiosity.”

Why not tell him the truth? I have nothing left to lose, and I doubt he’ll believe a word I say, anyway.

“I went on a date with you because my friend—ex-friend—thought it would be good for me to…” I cringe as I continue, “Have fun.”

The corners of his lips twitch in a half-smile, and then it vanishes.

“I didn’t know you were a Duke until the shoot-out at the bar when Freddie went to negotiate Bram’s ransom,” I explain. “But none of that matters now. You and the Dukes have what you want. An ex Killers Club agent. Congratu-fucking-lations!”

Seb paces back and forth. Minutes pass, and neither of us speaks, but I see his thoughts whirring in his mind. He stops walking abruptly and says, “I can get you something to clean up your cuts.”

“I don’t need a fucking plaster,” I say. “I’d rather you untie me.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Well, why don’t you stop acting like a gentleman?” My anger floods out. Although I’m not sure who I’m more angry at: the Dukes for holding me here, the Killers Club for feeding me lies, or Bram, who dove in front of a bullet that had my name on it. “If you have nothing else to say, then fucking leave!”

He steps closer, and his scent engulfs me, reminding me of our time together. What I had with Seb and Freddie was different from the connection I shared with Callen and Bram. Callen knew I was a monster, like him, from the start. Bram was damaged and broken, like me. But my connection with Freddie and Seb was pure. Them learning the truth about me polluted it.

“I cared about you, Ivy,” Seb admits. “I thought what we had was special.” He laughs while I refuse to look up from my feet. “I want to know if anything we shared was real or if it was all a lie. Call me an idiot, but I need to know whether the girl I was falling for ever existed.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” I mumble.

“The truth,” he says. “I want to know if any of it was real.”

The truth is complicated. Messy. Realities and identities have blurred. How will admitting I felt something change the outcome?

“I only stayed with you because of the club,” I lie. “I was going to kill you. That was my job. That’s all I cared about.”

Seb’s face falls. His disappointment almost makes me want to take back what I said and confess how I genuinely feel, but I won’t. The end was inevitable, and I was stupid to cling to a stupid fantasy for as long as I had.

“What about Freddie?” he asks. “You didn’t know who he was at first, either. Did you care about him?”

“Freddie was obsessed with me,” I say. “We met once years ago. He’s been mourning a stranger. It’s pathetic.”

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