Deadly Oath

4. Sabrina

4

SAbrINA

“ D on’t fucking move .”

The words seem to echo hollowly in my ears as I start to give the smallest fraction of a nod, and then catch myself. I can’t tear my gaze away from the snake, its mean, beady eyes fixed on me. I don’t think I could move, anyway. I know I’ve been this afraid before—the night when I was almost abducted in Chicago, for example—but right now, I can’t remember how that felt. All I know is the cold, icy terror sliding through my veins as the huge snake shakes its tail at me again, warning me away.

Except it’s too late for that. The moment I flinch or move, I know it’s going to strike.

“Don’t move,” Kian repeats, and I hear a slow sound like something brushing against leather. “This is gonna be loud. Try not to flinch.”

It’s the last warning I get before I see Kian move. He lifts his gun in a flash, and I only catch the barest glimpse of it out of the corner of my eye before the snake sees the movement, too, striking out lightning-fast in the same instant that my ears are suddenly ringing from the sharp crack of a gunshot.

I scream. I can’t help it. One second, the snake is coming at me, and I leap back on instinct, unable to force myself to stay still the way Kian demanded. And then, the next, I’m shaking like a leaf as I stare down at the bloodied body of the snake, nearly torn in half by the close-range bullet.

Kian is breathing heavily next to me. “Are you alright?” he demands, taking two quick strides to my side. His hand touches my back, steadying me, and I suck in a breath at the way the press of his fingers against my spine seems to send heat flaring through me.

It’s just shock , I tell myself. I feel like I’m going into some kind of shock, shaking uncontrollably as I stare down at the battered shape of the rattler. Stretched out now the way it is, I can see that it’s as long as my arm, too. Maybe longer.

Kian shoves his gun back into his holster, pulling what looks like a hunting knife free. His jaw clenches as he abruptly squats down, stabbing the knife viciously an inch below the snake’s head. I gasp as he drags the knife through it, blood spilling onto the autumn leaves as he cuts the snake apart. He grabs the pieces, and I let out another small yelp of shock as he steps forward and throws them into the river running just below the hill—the sound of moving water that I heard.

“Sabrina.” He says my name, more calmly this time, but there’s still a sharp, tense note to his voice as he turns back to me. “Are you alright?”

I nod, slowly, trying to decide if I really am. The violence with which Kian killed the snake was almost as shocking as the creature itself. “Did you have to—slice it up?” I ask faintly, realizing how ridiculous I sound even as the words come out of my mouth. But something about the brutality makes me feel even more shaky than before.

Kian looks at me quizzically for a moment. “There’s still venom in the fangs, even after it’s dead,” he says finally. “Some animal comes by and steps on the head—it could still end up dying from the ‘bite.’ Safer to cut up the parts and dispose of it.”

“Oh.” The word comes out faint, still. “That makes sense.” It does, but I still feel unsettled .

“What were you doing out here?” That sharpness is still in his voice, and I look up abruptly, feeling a small flare of rebellion. I can’t help but resent the implication in his tone that I shouldn’t be out and about as I please.

I’ve spent my whole life constrained by expectations and rules. I would have hoped, if I were forced to start over in an entirely new life, that I would at least be able to make some of my own decisions about how that life would go. But I keep running into constraints at every turn. Agent Caldwell has given me plenty.

“I was out for a run.” My voice is more clipped than it should be, probably, considering Kian just rescued me from a snakebite that could have killed me—but I’m too shaken and irritated to care just now. “As far as I was aware, this is public property? Public trails?”

Kian’s mouth twitches with amusement. “It is,” he confirms. “But you should be careful, city girl.” That amusement spreads into a smile, like he finds that nickname funny. I don’t. “Clearly, you’re not used to the wildlife out here. Most folks using these trails know to watch for things like rattlesnakes.”

“I–” I falter slightly. “I thought it was too cold.” I shiver as if to emphasize my point, although the shaking is definitely still from fear, not from cold. If anything, my blood is pumping so fast from the scare that I feel as if I’m running a little hot.

“For the most part, it is. But that one was soaking in a little late-afternoon sun.” Kian gestures down to the blood-spattered leaves, the overturned rock, and I see what he means. There’s a warm patch of sunlight where the snake was coiled up, no doubt getting in the last of it before the chill of December sets in.

It almost makes me feel bad. It wasn’t really doing anything wrong—I was the one who disturbed it. Scared it, as badly as I’m scared right now.

Maybe that’s just the shock talking, too .

“Here, I’ll walk you home.” The way Kian says it brooks no argument, and I nod numbly. His hand touches the small of my back again, urging me back up the path, and I feel that flush of warmth, the same way I did the first time he touched me. It startles me, because I can’t recall ever having that reaction to a man touching me before.

Sheltered and precious as I was before all of this, only a few men have ever touched me before, and always in very socially appropriate ways. A hand on the back or the arm as I danced with them at a gala, at most. And while Kian’s touch isn’t all that different from the careful ways those men have touched me in the past, something about it feels different.

There’s something about the way his palm flattens against the small of my back, guiding me up the trail. He has no claim on me, less than those men—who might have tried to court me with my father’s approval—ever did…but there’s something possessive in his touch. It sends a flush of uncomfortable heat through me, and I speed up a little, walking ahead so that his hand drops away from my back.

I don’t know why he makes me feel like this, and I don’t know what these feelings mean. But there’s something about Kian—his intensity, maybe—that draws me in as much as it frightens me away. And with all of my life in so much upheaval, I can’t begin to let myself think about trying to untangle that, too.

Fortunately, I didn’t get more than a half-mile down the trail, so it’s not too far of a walk back to my house. I dig my key out of the zippered pocket on my leggings with trembling fingers, batting Kian away when he tries to help. The last thing I want—the last thing I need —right now is his hand brushing up against my hip.

I manage to get the door open, and I’m a few steps into the entryway when I hear the heavy tread of his boots behind me.

“I’m fine.” My fingers are still trembling, which gives away the fact that I’m probably not fine. But I don’t need Kian hovering over me right now. I need space. I need a minute to process everything that just happened. “Please. I don’t want anyone else in my house right now.”

My house . I can’t actually recall ever referring to it as that before. It gives me a tiny flicker of hope that maybe I’m starting to acclimate. Beginning to settle in a bit .

Kian hesitates, and I draw in a deep breath, trying to look as calm as I possibly can. “Look—I appreciate your help. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t been there—actually, I have a pretty decent idea of what would have happened, and it’s terrifying. I’m really grateful you were there. But I need to get cleaned up and find some fresh clothes for my book club tonight, and I don’t have a lot of time, so—” I trail off, hoping he gets the hint.

“Book club, hm?” Kian’s mouth twitches in the hint of a smile. “Well, I’ll leave you be, then. Be careful, if you decide to go out running on those trails again. I can’t promise I’ll be there every time.”

“What were you doing out there today?” I blurt out the question before I can think better of it, and Kian pauses, a slight flicker of something that almost looks like annoyance crossing his face. As if he doesn’t like me asking.

“Patrols,” he says, his voice a little more clipped than usual as the smile fades. “My job. Keeping an eye on things. And it’s a good thing I was out there—doing it. Otherwise, who knows what would have happened?” There’s that hint of a smile again, but it doesn’t seem as teasing as before. “You need someone looking out for you, city girl.”

“I can look out for myself.” But the words come out hollow, flat. The truth is, I don’t know if I can. My whole life before this, I did have others looking out for me. Bodyguards. Security. And I was still nearly kidnapped and sent off to an unthinkable fate. I’ve never had to look out for myself before, and I don’t have any reason to think that I’ll be particularly good at it.

But the last thing I want to do is admit that to the arrogant, handsome sheriff in front of me.

Kian chuckles. “Alright then.” It’s clear that he doesn’t believe me, and irritation prickles over my skin at that, but I let it go. “I’ll see you around, Sabrina.”

I watch him as he goes, feeling out of sorts and frustrated—and still slightly in shock over the whole incident. I think of texting Marie and telling her that I can’t make it to the book club meeting tonight, but Caldwell’s voice rings in the back of my head, reminding me that I need to fit in. Participate in things. Become a part of the community .

Surely, almost getting bitten by a rattlesnake is a valid excuse, though?

I let out a sigh, dragging myself to my bedroom and grabbing the laundry hamper. I have just enough time to wash and dry something and take a shower before Marie is supposed to come pick me up. And despite how I feel, sticking to my plans is better than holing up in my house for the night and thinking about yet another shock, right?

Right?

I manage to toss a load in the washing machine, before stripping off my running clothes and getting into the shower. I dip my head under the hot water as it sluices over me, slowly relaxing my muscles, wound tight after the encounter with the snake—and Kian.

I hate the city girl nickname, but he was right about one thing—I’m not used to any of this. I’ve never seen a snake in my life before, outside of a zoo. I wasn’t prepared for that encounter at all, and I didn’t think hard enough about what I should be cautious of, running out in the woods like that.

Another shudder runs down my spine as I remember the snake’s beady eyes, the threatening rattle. If I never encounter anything like that again in my life, it’ll be too soon. It wouldn’t have even happened, if I hadn’t been so focused on the rustling in the trees?—

Shit . I bite my lip as I stand under the hot spray of water, remembering the sound of footsteps that I’d been so sure I’d heard in the woods, the distraction that had been the reason I’d tripped over the snake’s hiding place at all. Were those footsteps Kian?

They couldn’t have been. I’m no detective, but they were off to my left, when he showed up right behind me. And I’d heard them only seconds before I tripped, disturbing the snake—he was there moments later. Those sounds were something else.

A deer, probably. Some other wildlife running through the leaves. I tell myself that as I scrub soap through my hair, trying to calm myself down. I’m just not used to living in a place like this, so all the sounds seem strange. I’m overreacting.

I shove the thought out of my head as I finish my shower, drying off quickly and wrapping the towel around myself as I go to toss my laundry in the dryer. It should be done by the time I’m finished drying my hair, so I head back into the bathroom, digging the small, cheap plastic hair dryer that I bought at Target out from the cabinet under the sink.

Not for the first time, I miss my arsenal of expensive hairstyling tools that I had at home. My fancy brushes and expensive styling creams and foams. I have a bottle of heat-protectant spray that I snagged the last time Marie took me to Sephora, a flat brush that I bought there, and that’s it. My cut and color are good enough that my hair still looks fine even with the most minimal effort, but I still miss being able to do what I used to. I don’t have any natural curl to my hair, so with nothing more to add to it and no curling iron, it hangs smooth and straight around my shoulders. Shiny, and pretty, but I’m used to putting much more of an effort in. It feels strange not to. Just like it feels odd to grab my own laundry out of the dryer, toss it on my bed, and sift through the small pile to find a pair of dark blue jeans and a lightweight, open-knit sweater the color of pumpkins that I pull on over a grey tank top.

I shove my feet into my ankle boots and glance at myself in the mirror. I don’t recognize myself like this, still, and I wonder how long it will take for me to feel like myself. I find myself running down the list of the things that make me me more often than not, trying to remember who I am outside of the life I used to live, and the life I’m living now.

An address, a mansion, designer clothes, bodyguards, a full social calendar—those things don’t make a person . They’re accoutrements, additions. Window dressing for a person.

I like fashion. I like to travel. I like trying new foods. I like reading—which is why I didn’t cancel on the book club tonight. A small part of me is excited about it, even if I’m anxious about my reception there.

As usual, Marie is thrilled to see me when she picks me up. “You look a little pale,” she observes as I slide into the passenger’s seat of the minivan. “You feeling alright?”

“Yeah. I just—I went for a run earlier, after you dropped me off. Out on those trails behind my house. And I had—a bit of a mishap.” I tell her about the sounds in the woods that startled me, tripping over the rock, the snake, and how Kian saved me from it. By the time I finish, Marie is wide-eyed, turning to stare at me briefly before quickly turning her eyes back to the road.

“He shot it? He must be a quick draw, for him to catch it before it struck you. Whew .” She fans herself with a grin, a mischievous look on her face. “I think he might have a thing for you.”

I start to tell her about Kian asking me out on a date, while he was sitting at my kitchen table. But I think better of it. If I know anything about Marie, she’ll latch onto that hard , and then I’ll never hear the end of it. “He cut it up afterward,” I murmur, trying to drag the conversation back to what actually happened. “Threw it into the river. It was kind of—violent.”

“Well, he knows what he’s doing, then.” Marie nods approvingly, as if this confirms something for her. “It was good he was out there.”

“Yeah. I just—is that something that’s a part of the sheriff’s job? Going out and patrolling the trails?” I bite my lip, knowing how paranoid I sound, but I can’t help it. If anyone will let me know if something is amiss, it’s Marie. “I thought I heard those footsteps off in the woods right before, but they definitely weren’t him.”

Marie shrugs, turning off onto the road that leads to Cindy’s house, where book club is hosted. Apparently, she was volunteered for the spot, since she doesn’t have kids, meaning her house is the most peaceful option.

Truthfully, it would probably be my house by that definition, strictly speaking. I don’t have a boyfriend, husband, or kids—but Cindy’s house was already the chosen spot by the time I came along, and thankfully, no one suggested a change of venue.

“I mean, sure,” Marie says, pulling into the driveway. “He’s in charge of keeping the town safe. And he’s new, so it’s good that he’s familiarizing himself with things. It makes sense to me.”

I nod, gathering up my purse as Marie turns the car off. I’m just being paranoid , I remind myself as I slide out of the car, following her to the brightly painted red door at the front of Cindy’s white-shingled house. The yard is a riot of carefully cultivated colors of purple, yellow, and orange mums, blooming along the front of the house and along the edge of the steps. When Marie opens the door and I follow her in, I’m instantly hit with the scent of cinnamon, sugar, and a variety of fried foods.

The other women are already gathered in the living room, sitting with drinks in hand and their copies of the book in their laps. There’s a plate of what looks like snickerdoodles in the middle of the coffee table, and a plate of fried appetizers—I think I see cheese sticks, potato skins, and mini calzones.

“Oh good, you’re here!” Cindy says breezily, giving Marie a hug and me a smile. My feelings aren’t hurt by it—I’m well aware that Marie is the only one here who’s really taken to me. The other women still aren’t sure about me, and I can’t blame them.

I go to the kitchen, where mulled apple cider is heating up in a crock pot. I stare at it for a long time before finally taking a breath and ladling a bit of it into a mug, before retreating back to the living room to join the others. Marie has kindly saved me a spot next to her, and I reach for a cookie, hoping it will be enough for my rumbling stomach. I can’t quite manage to force myself to eat the greasy cheese sticks or potato skins.

I try to pay attention as Daphne talks about why she picked this particular book this month, but my mind keeps wandering back to the incident on the trail. Back to Kian.

“Sabrina? Are you alright?” Cindy asks me from where she’s sitting across from me, but it doesn’t have the same concern that Marie had. She sounds more annoyed that I’m not paying attention, and I know what she’s thinking—that I think I’m too good for them, and their little book club. That she doesn’t even know why I’m here if I don’t really want to participate, most likely.

“Sabrina had a near-accident out on the trails today,” Marie pipes up in my defense, and everyone’s attention turns to her. “Rattlesnake. Sheriff Brady was there and took care of it for her. Shot it, she said.”

“ Oh .” Cindy’s eyes widen. “Lucky you.”

“And not just because he killed the snake, either,” Daphne adds with a giggle. “Imagine having Kian Brady save you. ”

“You’re married!” Cindy gasps, and Daphne rolls her eyes.

“Most of us are. That doesn’t mean we don’t have eyes any longer.”

The conversation swiftly shifts, away from any questions of why I was distracted, and focuses entirely on Sheriff Brady and how attractive he is. Within seconds, I’m forgotten, and the women are giggling and gossiping away.

I can only imagine what they’d say if I mentioned that he asked me out. But I don’t, because I don’t want the attention on me again. The last thing I want is to feel even more out of place—and I have a feeling that’s exactly what would happen. No one would understand why I turned him down. And they’d probably all be just as confused as I am as to why he asked me on a date at all.

I feel lonely sitting there. Marie’s attention is fully engrossed in the conversation as well—and why wouldn’t it be? She’s been friends with these women far, far longer than she’s known me.

But that feeling of loneliness persists, all the way until I’m back home, getting ready for bed. My house feels chilly and silent, and I slide under the covers, trying to push away the persistent sense of unease that lingers at how ominously quiet it is outside. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to the silence out here, broken only by?—

I freeze, my heart thumping in my chest as I hear the sound of a twig cracking outside, and what sounds like footsteps on leaves. A chill runs down my spine, my breath catching in my throat as I listen to the rustling, louder at first and then fading away.

A deer, I tell myself again. Maybe even a black bear. Not a person.

After all, unless someone has found me, there’s no reason for a person to be out, walking around my house.

And Caldwell promised me that no one would.