Page 85 of Deal with the Devil

The sky is gray, but beautiful as I sit at the kitchen table with a view of a stormy sea blasting the cliff with salty spray. Outside, wind howls. It’s one of the rare occasions that I’m not listening to an audible book while I work, because I love the howl of the wind while I’m tucked inside safe and warm. And I am safe, because Kane is home. He’s been working out in the gym for the last hour.

I shoot the final files for a book cover package for a sci-fi romance indie author I’ve worked with before who writes the most addictive alien romances out there. It’s a genre that hadn’t been on my radar before her, but now I’m a big fan.

With the last task of the day complete, I close my laptop and lift my half-devoured mocha to my lips, taking a moment to watch the late October waves slamming around in the sea. I don’t hear him behind me until his mouth is against my ear, and he whispers, “I could watch you forever.”

I tip my head back, taking in my shirtless husband. I still can’t believe he’s real. That we’re real. But I’ve pinched myself enough times to know I’m not in a dream.

With a coy grin, I tease, “Consider the sentiment returned.”

He chuckles, but it dies too soon as he takes the seat next to me. “I need to talk to you.”

Oh boy, I don’t like the sound of this.

“About?”

He holds his phone toward me, and I see a picture of a young woman I recognize. A chill moves through my body as my eyes lift to his.

“Why do you have that?”

“Her name is Arianna Newfield. She went missing?—”

“Three years ago. It was all over the media.” I straighten, trying not to focus on the unsteady beating of my heart. Back when she first went missing, and her face was everywhere, people had gawked about how much I looked like her. It had given me an ill kind ofick then and I feel that same feeling now. “What’s going on?”

He flips to another photo. This time, it’s a man. He’s tall and broad and would be handsome if his eyes weren’t so empty. “This is Jacob Yancey.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

Kane leans forward, and I sense that he’s getting ready for something. If I didn’t know how ridiculous it was, I’d think he’s getting ready to catch me from falling. But that is ridiculous. We’re both sitting.

“Jacob Yancey is the man Antonio hired to attack you.”

“Wh—what?” I manage to push the word from my suddenly oxygen deprived lungs. But when the vision of Kane, shirtless and looking ready to lunge, doubles, I know I’m close to the edge of panic.

Pulling air in through my nose, I let it out my mouth. In through my nose, out through my mouth. In. Out. In. Out. Inoutinoutinout.

“Nevaeh.” Kane’s hands are on either side of my face now, grounding me. “Look at me.”

I do what he says, feeling myself calm. “S—sorry.”

Shit. Trauma sucks.

“Don’t be sorry.” His lips touch mine softly. “Never be sorry. Not with me.”

God, I love this man. I’ve known it for some time. Felt it deep in my soul. But this, his patience with me, he’s so imperfectly beautiful and so perfectly mine.

“Did Ilya find him?”

“Not yet.” Kane shakes his head. “But he will. We’re all looking.”

I frown. “Who is we?”

“Me and the guys. We’ve all got connections and we’re all doing what we can.”

I give him a smile that feels wobbly. “Okay, then I’m safe.”

A dark shadow spills into the blue of his eyes and he shakes his head. “I have a few things to confess to you.”

I feel the frown, so I know he sees it. “What kind of things?”

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