I heave in a deep breath, shame consuming me, and I stutter, “I did what she asked me to do, but he was deranged. He became rough, cruel, and used me as a punching bag. I tried to get away, but he wrapped his hands around my neck, and it was impossible to fight back. All the time he pushed inside me and told me he was going to kill me. He meant it and I felt myself slipping away. I couldn’t breathe, my vision blurred, and then I felt the handle of a knife in my hand. I remember thinking it was my only chance of survival and plunged the blade deep into his heart before he even registered I had it. His fingers relaxed around my throat, and his blood rained down on my body as he crushed me, my hand forcing the knife deeper into his chest.”
I have no more tears; they dried up ages ago, and I can’t even look at Blade as I whisper, “Angela gave me the knife. She told me she had saved my life, but I had taken the life of a powerful,influential man. She would cover up my crime if I kept quiet and helped her dispose of the body. I had no choice. She was right. I killed him. She taunted me with it. Telling me I would be sent to jail. For life and then electrocuted in front of a crowd. I was ruined, and only she could save me. She was right. I had no other choice. I was her slave, and the only way out of that was through death – mine, or hers.”
I lift my eyes to Blade and jut out my chin in defiance. “So, to answer your question, no, I couldn’t call the cops. Jenna Sloane was my only way out, and if she disposed of Angela Constable for me, my secret would be safe.”
He says nothing.
He sits beside me, staring into the water, and I wonder if I disgust him. I disgust myself because not only did I allow terrible things to happen to me, but I also murdered a man. I should have run. I should have left when I had the opportunity, and yet I stayed. That makes me as big a monster as Angela and Jenna, and I burn with shame.
“I will fix this.”
His voice is rough, scratching against my guilt, and I’m shocked when his large hand closes around mine and squeezes it hard. We are sitting next to one another on the bank of the stream. He is naked, and I may as well be, as the t-shirt is clinging to every curve I possess.
Yet this is the most peaceful I have been since I can remember, despite my confession about killing a man.
“How?”
“It’s what we do.”
“We?”
“The Twisted Reapers.”
He slides a smile my way, and I melt inside. I can’t help my attraction to this man. He is strong, surly, huge and rough, and yet the kind heart inside him soothes my jaded soul.
He is also the most attractive man I have ever met, from his shoulder-length dark hair, turbulent dark eyes, and a jaw heaped with stubble. His arms are bigger than my legs and arms put together, and the power inside him radiates like a warning. The scar on his cheek only adds to his beauty, and I physically ache to be close to him.
He nods, almost confirming his thoughts to himself, and says huskily, “When you operate outside the law, nothing is unsolvable. The man you killed deserved it. If you hadn’t, you’d be dead by now, so it was self-defense and no court in the world would hold you accountable for that.”
I say nothing, my heartbeat erratic as his hand rests heavily against mine.
“I’ll feed the information back to Ryder, and he’ll get Brewer and Lucy on the case.”
“Who are they?”
I’m almost fearful of that because this is my shame, and I really hoped it wouldn’t go any further.
“They gather intelligence. It’s confidential, and no matter what you tell them, they’ve heard worse, so remember that.”
I swallow hard, tears burning behind my eyes because suddenly life has gotten a lot more complicated.
“We must discover who you really are. It won’t be easy, but I’m hoping Ryder can come up with a solution to that.”
“Ryder is your boss?”
I recall the scary man who stood in my hospital room and quizzed the doctors on my condition. Despite how fierce these guys are, I never felt threatened. They made me feel safe, and I breathe, “I will help in any way I can, and Blade–”
His gaze slides my way, and I smile nervously. “Thank you.”
He raises his eyes as I ignore his previous instruction not to thank him.
“I’m sorry?—”
I slap my hand over my mouth, and for some reason, it causes him to chuckle.
“It’s okay, darlin’. You don’t need to say it.”
He glances at my hand in his, and his brows knot together.
