“You liked me,” I accuse.
He’d wanted me. That part hadn’t been an act. He’d slept with me without revulsion or disgust. It wasn’t until we came here—until he knew I’d lied—that he couldn’t stomach touching me.
He’d thought I was innocent until I’d given Cole what he wanted by testing the man who risked his life to protect me.
“It wasn’t an act for you either, was it?” I scan his eyes, searching for threads of the truth in those dark depths. “You felt the same way I did.”
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink.
Hope sparks inside me, the sweet, delicious optimism working its way through my veins until he releases a sigh of exhaustion.
“I’m fucking tired, Keira. We’re going to have to postpone this delusional conversation until tomorrow.”
“Why? Sleep won’t change our situation. The truth will still be here no matter how tired you are.”
“Sleep will bring patience, which is something I don’t have with you at the moment.”
I can live without his patience. What I can’t endure is another minute without his honesty. “I’ll make this easier for you. Just tell me why you slept with me in Westport. Was it because you wanted to, or because you thought it would get you closer to the truth?”
He stares at me. Stares right through me. There’s no warmth. No kindness. No Sebastian. There’s only sorrow and detachment. He’s a shell of the man I once knew.
“Close the window,” he mutters.
“No. Not until you answer me.”
“Close the fucking window, Keira.”
He’s trying to scare me with his vicious tone, but there’s no fear left. There’s only determination and the strongest sense of perseverance.
“You were attracted to me,” I demand. “You wanted me.”
His nostrils flare. “All in the past, honey.”
My insides react. Squeezing. Tingling. “What changed? Do you hate me now because I told one lie? Because I tried to protect myself with the same dedication you protected me with?”
He falls quiet, those tired eyes lazily blinking back at me with sterility.
“Answer me,” I plead. “Tell me how I’m the bad person when I betrayed you once, yet you made me fall for someone who doesn’t exist.”
“Can you hear yourself? Are you really begging for me? You’re practically on your knees for a fucking informant.” His nose scrunches in disgust. “If only Daddy could see you now.”
Rage shoots to the forefront. “Don’t throw him in my face.” I take a menacing step forward. “Don’t hold me accountable for my father’s actions. I didn’t do this. I didn’t hurt you. I didn’t take your sister.”
He winces. “No, you did something worse. You made me crave the daughter of my sister’s murderer.”
His admission slices through me, piercing skin, muscle, and bone. I’ve been waiting for this truth. It’s what I wanted. I just never anticipated it would tear me apart like this. “And I fell for a man who’s trying to put my father in prison. I fell for the guy who deceived my family for months, if not years. I fell for you, despite your intentions.” I swallow over the ache in my throat. “And I don’t regret it, Sebastian.”
His hands clench at his sides.
He’s going to yell at me again. He’s poised to lash out.
My heart pounds in tumultuous arrhythmia, anticipating the onslaught. Every second lasts an eternity waiting for him to berate me.
But he doesn’t.
His expression doesn’t change. He’s still harsh and unforgiving, as he retreats from his predatory stance to slump back onto the mattress and runs a hand through his hair. “Tell me about your uncle. How did he end up in the hospital?”
My chest continues its accelerated pulse. His question isn’t a white flag, but it’s something. The door he slammed closed on us has inched open just a little. “I paid someone.”
He raises a brow in disbelief. “Why now? Why not all those years ago?”
“When I was fourteen? I wasn’t capable of plotting murder back then.”
“I mean when you became an adult. Why didn’t you do something as soon as you were capable? When you turned twenty, or twenty-one, or any other year since. Why now and not earlier?”
“I guess I didn’t want to awaken old ghosts.” I return to the window and lean against the sill. “After he hurt me, he stopped coming around. I don’t know if he thought I’d tell my father or if Cole would. But he kept his distance and concentrated on business instead of family. Which gave me the space I needed to move on.”
“Until?”
I force down the emotions trying to bubble to the surface. I breathe in the calm I need to continue this conversation. “Until Stella turned six.”
“Stella?” His eyes flash with rage. “He didn’t—”
“No.” I shake my head. “He’s never touched her. I made sure of it. He may have groomed me at an early age, but I educated her even earlier, making sure she never spent time alone with him. That didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though. I watched the way he interacted with her. How he’d make her laugh. How they’d hug. I knew what was going on in that sick mind of his.”
I pause, waiting for an acceptance of my truth, praying and pleading silently for him to believe me.
“Keep going.” His expression doesn’t soften. He doesn’t give a hint of sympathy or solidarity. “Tell me everything.”
I have to be thankful for the slightest glimmer of curiosity. For the baby steps. “I knew it was only a matter of time. So I took the law into my own hands and paid for someone to take him out.”
“You paid for them to kill him, and they fucked up?”
“No.” I cringe. “I’m the one who fucked up. I found someone willing to do the job and paid half the arranged price up front…”
“Then?”
“Then I chickened out.” I swallow over the admission.
“You changed your mind?”
“No. I still wanted him dead. But I hadn’t thought about the danger I’d put everyone in. With my father spending longer and longer out of the country, I realized I couldn’t risk weakening our defenses.”
“I don’t get it. How does making him a vegetable help the situation?”
“It doesn’t. I tried to break the contract, or at least put it on hold. But apparently there’s no take-backsys when it comes to arranging a hit.”
One side of his mouth kicks in a half-hearted smirk.
That’s all he gives me. A slight change in expression. A casual tweak of lips.
The tepid simplicity is blindingly beautiful.
His slight hint of friendship turns my insides to flame, and I’m weak-kneed for him all over again. “In hindsight, I guess I should’ve asked Hunter to do it.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because I knew he wouldn’t do the job without permission from Cole. And my brother still has no clue I’m responsible.” I stare at him, waiting for him to realize the secret I’ve just laid at his feet.
Nobody knows why Richard was run down.
Nobody is aware I tried to have someone in my own family slaughtered.
Nobody but the murderer I hired and now the man seated before me. The same man who could crush my heart that sits firmly in his calloused hands.
Sebastian could give this information to my siblings. The authorities. The media. I’ve handed him my skeletons. I’ve given him my whole fucking closet.
“Why couldn’t you get Cole to arrange the hit in the first place?” he asks. “You said he was there for you.”
“Because family doesn’t kill family.”
“Is that one of your father’s rules?” He crosses his arms over his chest, his lips flattening into a tight line. “Your uncle raped you, Keira. The punishment fits the crime.”
There he is, the protective man I know.
I may not have an understanding of who Sebastian really is, but the way he feels for me was never a lie.
/>
“It doesn’t matter.” I shrug. “You never turn your back on family. You can punish them, but death is reserved for enemies, not uncles.”
“Enemies like me.” His eyes sparkle with mischief. His death wish lingers again. He lets out a derisive chuckle and lowers his gaze. “So, this hitman refused to let you back out of the contract, then fucked up the hit anyway?”
“No. I’m certain the change in plan was deliberate.”
“Why?” He straightens, inching closer to the edge of the bed.
“He figured out who I am. Now he’s trying to extort me for more than double the price and demanding I make the drop in person. I don’t know what to do. I’m smart enough to realize he’s going to keep extorting me no matter how much I pay, but I don’t know how to make it stop. And it’s not merely intimidating phone calls anymore.” I bite my lip, not wanting to tell him everything, and dying to spill my guts at the same time. “He’s escalated to physical threats.”
His chin hitches, his eyes glazing as he becomes lost in thought, the wild contemplation written all over his face.
“The drive-by…” He scowls. “You said you were responsible. You told me you were to blame.”
I don’t move, don’t breathe while he realizes even more of my truth.
“Fuck.” He pushes to his feet. “You’ve known who it was all along—”
“No.” I push from the window sill. “I’m not entirely certain. I still haven’t confirmed it. I tried making some calls last night, but I didn’t get any answers. I don’t have his phone number. All the information is stored in my cell, which is back in Portland.”
“Who is he?”
I swallow over the dryness overwhelming my throat.
“Keira?” He approaches, closing in on me. “Who did you pay?”
“I don’t know. I found him on the dark web. I thought he was a nobody from out of town.”
“A nobody that had the balls to shoot up one of your family’s restaurants?” He gets closer. He’s there. Right there. His hips brushing mine. “Give me his name.”
I work my lips together, buying time, hating the disappointment bearing down on me before I admit, “I don’t know.”
“Jesus.” Concern seeps into his eyes.
Concern for me?
“I thought I’d done everything right. I made contact. I arranged the hit. I even drove to Salem and placed the first half of the money in a locker before he knew where I was making the drop so he wouldn’t be able to stake out the scene. It all went smoothly. I’d made threats, telling him I had my team watching him to ensure he didn’t take off with the cash without fulfilling his part of the agreement.”
“What happened when you changed your mind?”
I heave out a breath, fighting the tingle in my fingers demanding I reach out and touch him. “I contacted him online. I told him not to go ahead with the hit, but he refused to discuss the situation unless it was in person.”
“You didn’t, did you?”
“No.” I shake my head. “I convinced him to call me on a burner number. But the verbal communication took away my power. I became flustered, and slowly, he chipped away at my anonymity. Before long, I was sure he’d figured out who I was.”
“Fuck.” He turns away, massaging his forehead. “That’s when he realized extorting you was a far bigger cash cow than killing your uncle.”
“Yes.”
“This is an impressive mess you’ve gotten yourself into.” He keeps his back to me, those strong shoulders calling for my hands.
“I know.” I need his help. I want it. Crave it. “I owe him money, and Torians always pay their debts. But I can’t approach him on my own.” I take cautious steps toward him. I don’t stop until his body is within reach. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
“Some shit can’t be fixed.”
I’m not deluded into thinking his response is aimed squarely at the hitman issue. He’s referring to this mess as a whole. He’s talking about us.
I place my hands on his waist, needing to reclaim our connection. “Please…”
He stiffens, every muscle rippling under my touch while I fight for words.
“Will you come with me?” My lungs seize under the agonizing request. My ears burn waiting for his response. “Can you tell me what to do to fix this?”
“You want my help?” He swings around, incredulous. All those fissures of torment and pain disappear under a renewed show of fury. “How the fuck do you expect me to fix anything now that you’ve put a target on my back?”
My hands fall to my sides, my fingers trembling with both adrenaline and anguish as I withdraw.
“Don’t confuse my curiosity for concern, Keira.” He looks me up and down, judging me again and finding me unworthy. “You’ve ratted me out, and it’s only a matter of time before your actions put me six feet under.”
I retreat at the verbal punch and watch in silence as he stalks for the door.
“Close the fucking window,” he snaps. “It’s time you got some rest.”
“Sebast—”
“You’ve got five minutes to take a shower before I come back and restrain you to the bed.”
20
Decker
I snatch a t-shirt from my brother’s wardrobe, then trudge to the bathroom and throw it inside the steam-filled room while Keira showers.
She doesn’t protest the intrusion. Or acknowledge the clothes I’ve given her to wear. She doesn’t even make a sound apart from the slight shift in the shower’s spray before I slam the door shut.
The damn woman has me tied in knots.
This whole situation is a cluster fuck of epic proportions.
The worst part is the demanding urge to help her. It’s the biggest bitch slap my intuition has ever handed me, and I don’t know how to bury the impulse.
While I wait for her to finish her shower, I retrieve Hunter’s handy duffle of goodies and dump it on the floor in the room where she will sleep.
A few minutes later, she returns to the room, my brother’s shirt billowing at her thighs, her hair damp and hanging around her shoulders.
She entices me like no other. She always has.
The woman embroiled in more crime than a small country. The daughter of my sister’s murderer. The sister to the man who will soon kill me.
She’s my weakness, my downfall, and still I can’t ignore the temptation of her.
“What are you doing?” she asks as I weave a cable tie through the one already looped around a wooden slat in the designer bed head.
“I’m creating shackles.”
She sighs. “You don’t have to do this. I’m not going anywhere.”
“I know.” I pull back the covers and pat the mattress. “Get in.”
She glares at me, but that’s the extent of her protest. She climbs on the bed and remains quiet as I secure a cable tie around her wrist, then another at her ankle.
She can’t complain. I’ve set up the restrains in the middle of the bed. She has the ability to rest on her stomach or her back. She’s not spread starfish like I could’ve demanded. If anything, I’ve been highly accommodating.
“Where are you sleeping?”
“Wherever the fuck I want.” I cover her with the quilt, cutting off the sight of her laying like a BDSM pinup model. The only problem is, instead of her body slaying me with temptation, her eyes implore me with wounded emotion.
She wordlessly begs for my trust. She tears me apart with those big baby blues.
“I don’t want to hear from you until sunup.” I need to erect a big fucking wall between us. It’s the only way I’ll stay sane.
I start for the hall, flicking off the light and closing the bedroom door as I pass.
She doesn’t wail on me like I expect. Not a single word leaves her lips as I pause outside the room, waiting for a theatrical reaction to make me feel like less of a prick.
I’m still waiting for a dramatic response as I shower. And again, when I pull on a clea
n pair of boxers from the drawers in the main bedroom.
She continues to surprise me as I climb into my brother’s bed and listen to the eerie silence. I didn’t expect her to take her punishment quietly. I also didn’t anticipate feeling like such a sack of shit at having her tied like a prisoner in the next room. But there’s no other choice.
She would run if left to free-range the house. Or worse, she would attempt to punish me for all the fun-filled choices I’ve made, and only end up getting hurt in the process.
It’s safer to have her restrained.
Smarter.
I keep telling myself that while I fade in and out of guilt-ridden consciousness.
I wake with every subtle squeak of her mattress as the hours pass. I picture her tossing and turning. It isn’t until three in the morning that those squeaks become something more.
There’s rustling, grating, and the continued snarl of something hard running over tough plastic. Then the slightest footsteps and the lightest squeak of a door hinge.
I’m not surprised she freed herself. To be honest, I would’ve been disappointed if she hadn’t made an effort to escape. What I’m not looking forward to is the retaliation. The revenge.
Yesterday, I would’ve eaten that shit up like prime rib. Now, I can’t stop the dull ache under my sternum. The thought of continuously fighting with her makes my stomach turn.
I retrieve my gun from under my pillow and hold it frozen at my side. I keep my breathing heavy, feigning sleep, as her slim silhouette enters the doorway.
She creeps into the room, one slow step after another. I can’t see her face in the darkness, but I feel her stare. She’s scrutinizing my breathing, waiting for a sign to show her I’m prepared to fend off her attack.
I continue to inhale deep and exhale slow as she approaches the foot of the bed. I have no clue what I’m going to do when she reaches my side. I’ll have to fend off a weapon; that much is clear. She didn’t yank or tug her way out of those cable ties. There’s a blade on her somewhere.
What I don’t understand is why she didn’t finish the job earlier when she held my jugular hostage. Did my refusal to help her with the hitman situation make her change her mind?
Decker Page 20