Deadly Oath

20. Sabrina

20

SAbrINA

B y the time it’s been a full twenty-four hours since Kian all but put me on unofficial house arrest, I’m so restless that even Agent Caldwell’s scheduled visit is a relief.

I’d actually forgotten that he was due to visit me. Between my rapidly escalating relationship with Kian, my efforts to actually fit in with the people here in town, and the worry over who is sneaking around my house, Caldwell had ended up in the very back of my mind. But when he knocks on my door, and I see his black town car outside of my window, my stomach clenches with mingled anxiety and relief. Relief, because there’s something to break up the monotony. Anxiety, because I don’t know how much of what’s been going on I should actually tell him.

My ‘relationship’ with Kian? Unlikely, considering I don’t know how to even begin describing this thing between Kian and me to someone like Caldwell without turning bright red and wanting to die from embarrassment. The man sneaking around the house and the ones Kian has seen around town? I know I should say something about that. Theoretically, Caldwell could help Kian find out who, exactly, these people are. I can’t imagine that having the FBI assisting him in this would be anything other than useful for Kian .

But the truth is that I don’t want Kian to know about Caldwell. I’m already on edge, worried that Kian might drive by or show up unexpectedly, and then I’ll have to explain all sorts of things about myself that I’m not ready to share—and don’t even fully know if I want to. I don’t want him to know the truth about my family, or why I’m here. He might already know that I’m in witness protection, given that he’s the sheriff here, but I don’t want to tell him more than that if I don’t have to.

Giving Caldwell that information will result in Kian knowing about all of that. And worse still, if Caldwell decides that this new threat means that I need to be relocated again, I’ll be moved away from Kian altogether.

As much as I disliked Rivershade when I first arrived, I’ve started to grow fond of it. I’ve made a friend. I have Kian, and everything he’s opening my eyes to. And while I can’t say I wouldn’t go back to Chicago if I were able to, I can certainly say that I don’t want to start over again, in a completely new, strange place.

“Are you alright?” Caldwell asks as I let him inside the house, clearly picking up on my mood. “Are you still having difficulty settling in?”

“It’s getting better.” I lead him to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator to see what I have to drink. There’s the bottle of cold coffee and a pitcher of water, and I take the water out, pouring him a glass without waiting for him to ask. I need to do something with my hands.

“Better, how?” He sinks into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, accepting the glass when I bring it to him. I feel too nervous to sit, so I lean against the counter instead, clutching my own glass of water. It reminds me uncomfortably of that first morning when Kian visited, when he sat where Caldwell is now and looked at me, making me feel strange, jittery sensations that I realize now were the beginnings of desire.

I think about him coming up behind me as I washed the dishes, too, his finger running down the back of my neck, and a shiver runs down my spine.

Kian has managed to invade my house, to leave marks of himself everywhere, claiming me in ways that go beyond the physical. It should make me fearful, but instead, it just makes me miss him, makes me want him here instead of the fatherly FBI agent who I know will push and pry until I feel exhausted from trying to tell him only what I want him to know.

“I joined a book club.” I take a sip of my water. “And I think I’ve made a friend.”

“You think?” Caldwell looks amused, and for some reason, it makes me bristle.

“I’ve made a friend,” I amend. “I see her a few times a week.”

“Has she come over? Invited you to her place?” he questions, and I half-expect him to pull out a small notepad and start making notes of my answers.

“She’s come over here. I’ve dodged any invites to her house. She has kids,” I explain. “If there was any danger, I wouldn’t want to put them in harm’s way.”

“Do you have reason to think there’s danger?” Caldwell frowns. “We’ve kept tabs on the Kariyev Bratva and their associates. There is—movement, there, but it should only keep you safer, not less so. If there’s something that concerns you, though?—”

This is where I should tell him. I know I should. But the thought of Kian finding out all of this, of him truly knowing who I am, makes me shy away from it. Besides, Kian can handle it. These men are rough, he’d said, clearly up to no good, but not the kind of danger that Caldwell is worried about. Whatever this is, Kian is capable of making sure that they stay away from me.

“No,” I say quickly, shaking my head. “Nothing like that.”

Caldwell looks at me for a long moment, as if he can see through my abrupt answer. “You’re sure? I need to know anything that you do, Sabrina. I can only protect you if I know what’s going on. If there’s someone who is worrying you?—”

“No one,” I insist. “Everything is fine, I promise. I’m just getting used to things around here. But it’s getting better.”

He exhales. “I’m glad to hear that. I know this can be difficult,” he adds, not unsympathetically. “Abruptly saying goodbye to everything you knew, without actually being able to say goodbye, and then starting over somewhere entirely unfamiliar is something that would be extraordinarily difficult for most people to handle. It takes someone very tough to be able to make the best of it. You’re a tough woman, Sabrina…” he trails off, clearly stopping himself before he uses my old name. “This is no small thing,” he adds, giving me that sympathetic, fatherly smile that I’ve come to associate with him.

“Thanks.” I shift against the counter, still nervous that Kian might make an abrupt appearance, but I can’t help but feel warmed by Caldwell’s concern. I can tell he empathizes with my situation. “That means a lot,” I tell him, managing a smile. “It hasn’t been easy. But there wasn’t really any choice but to keep going.”

“That’s the spirit.” Caldwell returns the smile, genuinely. “What about money? Is the stipend enough for you, with rent and utilities covered? There’s not a lot of wiggle room in the budget, but if you need something?—”

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “I got a freelance editing job that gives me some extra cash. The documents that you got me set up with that have my new name worked fine for it. I haven’t had any issues.”

“Oh, good.” He lets out a relieved breath. “Well—that’s that, I think. If you’re feeling safe and settled and you don’t need anything, then I’ll just come around next month to check on you again. And we’ll go from there.”

“Sounds good.” I keep the smile pasted on my face, not wanting there to be any chance that he might have reason to think that something is wrong. “And I have the number you gave me still. If there’s an emergency.”

Caldwell nods, standing up. “I’ll be in touch, then,” he says, and nods to me, heading for the door.

I trail after him, closing the door securely once he’s gone and locking it. The moment the sound of his car’s engine fades away, it all feels too quiet, and I let out a heavy sigh as I lean back against the door.

How long am I going to have to stay in here, waiting for Kian to tell me it’s safe again? A part of me wants to think it’s some kind of odd power play on his part, something he’s getting off on, some new trap for his little rabbit , and that he’ll tell me that in a day or two, only for us to fight over it and then take all of that out on each other in bed. The thought doesn’t make me as upset as it should, but I think it’s more than just the fact that I know how explosively pleasurable that scenario could be now, even if it pisses me off just imagining it.

If this was some kind of twisted game on Kian’s part, then that would mean that there is no real threat. That’s infinitely preferable to there really being danger, to the idea that these men he’s seen might truly mean me some harm. I’d rather he be playing some game with me than there really be someone out there who has tracked me down, who wants to kidnap or hurt me.

But who could it be, if that is the case? The man in the jail looked like no one I’ve ever met. Kian said his officers saw other men who matched that description—but that also means that they don’t call back to anyone I knew in my former life. It doesn’t make sense why they would want anything to do with me.

Staying in the house is making me feel stir-crazy—not because I went out all that much before, but because now I have to stay in. I told Marie that I was too tired to make the book club meeting last night, and I’m not entirely sure that she believed me. I don’t have any editing work left to do, and the thought of sitting down with the mystery I should be reading for book club just upsets me, because it reminds me that I should have been at the meeting.

It’s funny, I think as I walk down the hall to my room, considering just finding something on TV to watch and curling up in bed. I hadn’t really wanted to join the book club at first, but now that I couldn’t go, I’m realizing that it started to feel like something that anchors me. A part of a new routine that I’m building for myself.

That’s being upended again, which is making me feel anxious and jittery.

My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I jump, pulling it out. I’m hoping it’s Kian, telling me that it’s all clear, but instead, I see Marie’s name on the screen and a flurry of texts.

I scan them, realizing that she wants me to come out with her and meet the other girls at the Crow Bar. My stomach immediately sinks, because I know I can’t go. Kian would have a fit if he found out that I went out to a bar right now, when he’s specifically told me not to go out unless I absolutely need to.

Marie texts me again, and I can almost hear the wheedling note in her voice, pleading for me to come out with them. And the truth is—I want to. I don’t love seeing Cindy, but drinks with Marie and even Daphne sound fun. Dancing at the Crow Bar again sounds fun. And I don’t want to turn them down just because Kian thinks I should stay in the house.

The bar is in the middle of town, I reason, drifting towards my dresser as I try to come up with excuses for why this would be acceptable. These men, if they really are after me, aren’t going to come into such a public place, or even try something near the bar. If anything, I tell myself as I fish out a dark denim skirt and a silky blouse, I’m safer there, with so many people around.

I know, deep down, that I’m just making excuses because I want to go. And I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Kian would disagree with my reasoning for even a second.

But before I can change my mind again, I’m already pulling on the skirt, texting Marie that I want her to come pick me up.

—

Thirty minutes later, I’m sitting at the Crow Bar with another of that same bourbon drink that Kian ordered for me when we were here, sipping at the honey-sweetened bourbon and sitting next to Marie, Daphne, and Cindy on her other side. Marie is more dressed up than I’ve ever seen her, in an eyelet dress with a denim jacket over it, her hair curled at the ends. “Greg agreed to watch the kids tonight,” she says with a grin, nursing a light beer that she takes small sips out of every few minutes. “It feels like forever since we’ve had a girls’ night out like this.”

“I’m surprised you had time, since you’ve got that sexy sheriff paying you so much attention,” Cindy chirps in my direction, waving the bartender down for another cranberry vodka. “I certainly wouldn’t be doing anything else if he was paying attention to me.”

“Well, that’s why he’s with her and not you,” Daphne says drily, taking a sip of her Jack and Coke. “Men like a woman who has a life of her own, you know. My husband likes that I do things without him. Keeps it interesting. We have things to talk about when we come back from whatever we’re doing separately.”

“I love hearing about Greg’s trips,” Marie agrees. “Even if it’s tough juggling the kids when he’s on the road, I like hearing about all his adventures.”

“You probably wouldn’t like hearing about all of them,” Cindy says, laughing, and Daphne shoots her a dirty look.

“I know the guys go to strip clubs and all of that,” Marie says defensively. “I don’t mind, as long as he comes and eats at home, if you know what I mean.”

“ Marie!” Daphne exclaims, and I can’t help but laugh, too, as startled as anyone else to hear Marie say something so close to being dirty.

“What about you?” Cindy asks, leaning forward to look at me, clearly still intent on starting shit. “Would you care if Kian went to a strip club?”

“Well, we’re not exactly dating, so I don’t think I have any say.” I roll my eyes a little, and Marie laughs, Daphne joining in a moment later. Cindy looks miffed that she didn’t get a rise out of me, but I don’t care. And truthfully, I can’t help but think how ludicrous of a question it is, in light of my old life—a life where husbands routinely cheat on their wives, have mistresses, and pay for memberships to exclusive, million-dollar sex clubs. A run-of-the-mill strip club is nothing compared to the debauchery that mafia husbands get up to.

Another round of drinks is ordered, as the band starts to play again, and I’m thoroughly glad that I came. Even if Kian finds out and is pissed at me, I’m glad I didn’t miss out on this evening. This is what I need more of—nights like this that make me feel like I actually belong here .

That makes me not miss my old life, but actually start to be glad for my new one.

As the music picks up, we toss back the rest of our drinks, order another round, and head out onto the floor to dance. I hold my drink in one hand, taking sips of it as we dance and laugh and trip a little before picking the rhythm back up, and for the first time, other than the hours I’ve spent with Kian, not a single part of me wants to be anywhere else.

Maybe this could be home, eventually, I think as I dance with the girls, finishing off my third drink. I’m feeling buzzed, my head swimming—I’ve never drank this much before, ever—and the urge to text Kian hits me. He’s going to be upset that I went out—but if I lured him with the promise of more fun in bed together, back to my place, I have a feeling he’d get over it relatively quickly.

I reach for my phone, only to realize that it’s not in my pocket. A quick glance at the bar tells me that it’s not there, either, and I realize that I must have left it in Marie’s minivan.

“I’m going to go get my phone!” I tell Marie over the music. “I’ll be right back.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” She steps away from the dance floor with me, but I shake my head.

“It’s right outside. I’ll be back in just a second.”

“Okay.” She flashes me a smile, taking another sip of her beer as she starts to dance again, and I quickly head for the door to go and grab my phone. My heart is already racing at the idea of seeing Kian, the alcohol making me forget every reason why it might be a bad idea to admit to him that I went out drinking. I haven’t forgotten what he did to me the last time we were together, or how it made me feel.

The way he used me again after his shower was degrading, humiliating—and gave me an explosive orgasm. I want to find out what other things he can show me that will make me feel that way.

The air outside is cool, chilling a little of my buzz as I head for the minivan, but not enough to keep it from taking me three tries to open the door. I finally get it open, leaning over the passenger’s seat to get my phone out of the center console, when I feel a hard, thick arm slide around my waist, yanking me backward before I can even think to resist.

“Well, this was easy,” I hear, drawled in my ear as I regain my senses enough to start to fight back. “Wait—someone hand me the drug! She’s squirmin’!”

Drug? I kick harder, wrenching around to try to see who it is that has me in this iron grip against his chest. He smells of sweat and cigarettes, and I flail in his grasp, twisting and kicking at his shins.

“Goddamn, girl, cut it out!” the man snarls, one hand grabbing both of my arms to keep me from scratching at him. “Hurry the fuck up!” he shouts at someone else, and out of the corner of my eye, I see a burly man heading towards me and my captor.

I have no idea what they’re going to do to me, but I don’t want to find out. I open my mouth to scream, but before I can get a sound out, a heavy, greasy hand is clamped over my mouth, and I’m being dragged backward into the shadows.

I throw everything I can into fighting them. I squirm, I kick, I scream against the heavy hand anyway, but the man pulls me into an alleyway next to the bar, the other man approaching from the side. I try to twist away, hard, but before I can do more than throw my weight to one side, I feel the prick of something sharp in the side of my neck.

I’m under no illusions as to what just happened. In seconds, the world is swimming around me, and I can feel my body getting heavy as I sag in the man’s arms.

I can’t believe I escaped trafficking in Chicago just to get kidnapped in Kentucky, is my last thought as my vision starts to tunnel, and the world begins to fade out around me.

And then, everything goes dark.