Page 52

I kissed him and wanted nothing more than to be in a relationship with him.

But he killed people. He’s kidnapping me.

My heart cracks right down the middle as I realize the man I was falling in love with probably doesn’t exist.

Oh God, I’ve been crushing on a killer.

At the end of the alley, we turn right, and a few minutes later, we approach a car lot that has a fence around it.

We head inside, and I see a trailer office, but the lights are off. Our shoes crunch on the ground as we move past rows of cars.

Alone in the dark with Rowan, my bravery fails me, and I whimper, “You’re scaring me.”

Suddenly, we stop by a white Impala, and Rowan reaches under the chassis on the passenger side, pulling a key out that he must’ve stuck there previously.

Only then does he pause to look at me. His features remain downright brutal, and his eyes look predatory in the meager light coming from the streetlights on the other side of the lot.

I take a step backward, my shoulders coming up again while I struggle to keep eye contact with him.

When he lifts his arm, I flinch hard, bracing for pain, but instead, Rowan brushes his palm gently over the side of my head. “We have to keep moving, Annie. The fourth guy, who was probably outside smoking when I killed his friends, had time to make a call to the Bratva. They know where we are and in which direction we’ll be moving. Once we’re safe, I’ll tell you everything.”

Not waiting for my response, he unlocks the door, and opening it, he tugs me closer while tipping his head toward the seat, giving me a silent order.

Refusing to get in, I stare at the man who killed people and kidnapped me without showing any emotion.

“Don’t do this,” I beg, giving him a pleading expression.

He lets go of me, but when he lifts his hands, I flinch again, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Annie.” His tone is softer, and I quickly look at him. He shakes his head as he frames my cheeks, his touch tender. “I won’t hurt you. We need to move. If the Bratva finds us, they’ll rip you apart in front of me. Do you understand?”

He can’t be serious!

My legs go numb, and swaying on my feet, my hand slams into his abs as I grab hold of his shirt to keep myself upright. My tone is tense with horror as I ask, “Why would they do that to me?”

Having had enough, Rowan pushes me into the car while saying, “Because you’re the only weakness I have. They could find out about you and use you to lure me in.” He shuts the door and runs around the front to get into the driver’s seat, then he adds, “This is why I tried to keep my distance from you.”

Right.

I’m torn between bursting out in horrified tears and losing my temper.

When Rowan starts the engine and drives toward the gate, I snap, “You should’ve tried harder.”

“You didn’t make it easy,” he grumbles.

My tone pitches as I exclaim, “Because I thought you were a . . .”

“A regular guy?”

I shake my head. “A broken man who just needed someone to help him.” Wanting to know just how much trouble I’m in, I ask, “Are you a part of the Bratva?”

He lets out a heavy breath as he drives toward the interstate.

Before he can answer, a police car turns up the street in front of us, and as it speeds toward the on-ramp, Rowan turns right.

Instead of getting on the I-5, he avoids it and heads toward Cherryville, where he gets on the US-26 E.

That’s when it really sinks in that Rowan is a very dangerous man. Everything I tried to guess about him was wrong.