“How could I be scared of you?” I ask softly. “All you’ve done is protect me. You’re a good man.”
He grimaces. “I’m not a good man, but I’ll be good to you. Let me prove it to you.”
My heart tugs toward his. He thinks he’s unworthy. Even though I just told him I’m a killer, too, he’s convinced that he’s a bad person for what he’s done.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” I press.
I’ve confessed to Carter’s murder. I’ll offer Rand the same opportunity to unburden himself.
But he shakes his head. “I never want you to know what I’ve done.”
I search his face for signs of deception, but all I see is raw anguish. Whatever he’s been forced to do, he’s not ready to share with me. He’s holding back, but he’s being honest with me.
“You can tell me,” I encourage.
He closes his eyes, brow furrowed with some unseen strain.
“I want you to accept me, but I can’t tell you. Just believe me when I say I did what was necessary. I took the only path open to me.”
I cup his cheek, drawing him back to me. “You don’t have to tell me if you’re not ready. I do accept you.”
His dark gaze burns into me. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that.”
“I think I do.” My voice hitches.
I told him some of my worst sins, and he’s accepted me. I’ll grant him the same absolution he’s offered me.
He captures my face in both hands, holding me like I’m something precious and fragile.
“I can’t bear it if anything happens to you,” he rasps. “I’ll handle whoever’s threatening you. And I’ll make them pay for it.”
A shiver races over me at the overt threat. Rand is capable of violence, and not just because he’s trained in MMA.
He’ll turn that violence on my stalker.
I search my conscience and find that I don’t care. That sick, anonymous letter was enough to seal the psycho’s fate. He wants to rape me.
Or he might try to kill me again.
He knows my real identity.
Even Rand doesn’t know my name.
Suddenly, I long for him to call meKarolina.
I swallow the urge to share more of my past with him. If he decides to look into Karolina Taylor, he might find out what I did to Brandon.
It’s a miracle that he relates to the fact that I killed Carter in self-defense, but I can’t reveal that I murdered my first love.
I still hate myself for it. Why would he feel differently if I tell him the extent of what I did?
“Are you scared yet?” he challenges softly.
“No. I’m not scared of you, Rand. I know you’ll keep me safe. I…”
I stumble over the words. I haven’t dared to make myself vulnerable to anyone in years.
Gathering my courage, I vow, “I trust you.”
