Page 117 of Deklan


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I swallow hard. I glance at the gun to make sure my finger isn’t on the trigger. My hands are shaking, and I’m going to end up shooting the refrigerator if I’m not careful. I sniff the air again, but the scent is not as noticeable as it was just a minute ago. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe it was just something left over from whatever nightmare I was having. Regardless, if I call anyone, I would just sound needy and paranoid.

I shake my head, return to the bedroom, and drag the blankets back onto the bed. Instead of lying back down, I sit in the center of the bed with the gun still in my hands, listening carefully.

An hour passes. I hear nothing and feel ridiculous. After placing the gun on top of the nightstand, I lie back down and pull the covers up to my chin. I stare at the doorway, but it’s too dark to see much.

I grab the gun and jump out of the bed, quickly running to the bathroom and turning the light on so it floods the hallway. I rush back to the bed and sit, holding the gun again.

You are being ridiculous.

Everything that has happened has me so worked up, I’m not thinking straight. Kathy being killed, finding out about my father and the creepy stalker—it’s all been too much. I’m on overload, and I need to get this shit out of my head.

I take several deep breaths until my heart finally stops racing. I slowly place the gun back in the nightstand drawer and force myself to lie down and close my eyes.

Sleep doesn’t come quickly.

Chapter 32

“I want my job back.”

Deklan refuses to look at me. He turns his back as he grabs his watch from the top of the dresser and clasps it to his wrist. He holsters his gun and walks out of the bedroom without a word.

I follow.

“I really can’t take sitting around here anymore.” I cross my arms over my chest and hope I look determined enough that my stubborn husband will give in to my demands. “We talked about this before. I can’t just hang out here in the apartment, bored off my ass, while you are gone all day.”

“It is not safe for you to go back to that coffee shop,” Deklan says. He grabs a waffle out of the toaster and shoves half of it into his mouth. He still doesn’t look at me.

“Terry said he would hire me back.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You can’t stop me.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know I made a mistake.

Deklan stops chewing, tosses the remaining bit of waffle into the trash, and then leans heavily against the counter. I can see the tightness in his jaw, and I take a step back when he turns toward me. It’s not far enough, and all Deklan has to do is reach out with his hand to grab my wrist and bring me close to him.

“Kera,” he says in a calm but cold voice, “do not think that because I have allowed that to happen before, I will allow it again. Don’t make the mistake of believing this is a marriage of equality. It isn’t.”

My shoulders slump, and it feels as if all my organs have dropped into my stomach. This isn’t news to me—I know my station in my life and this marriage—but Deklan has always been lenient, and to have it spelled out for me is a painful reminder of reality.

I feel his hand on my cheek, but when he tilts my head up, I look off to the side.

“I love you,” he says, “but you will do as I tell you. Once all this is sorted out and I know you are safe, we can talk about you getting another job. In the meantime, you will stay here, and Brian will be here when I’m not. You are just going to have to trust me on this.”

“It’s not like you trust me.” I swallow past the lump in my throat, willing myself not to shed any tears of anger.

“I do trust you.” Deklan narrows his eyes.

“Oh sure,” I say as I pull out of his grasp and toss my hands up in the air. “As long as you have someone watching over me twenty-four hours a day, you trust me completely!”

“That has nothing to do with me trusting you. I don’t trust anyone else. Don’t fight me on this, Kera. I’m not going to budge when it comes to your safety. I’m sorry if that upsets you, but that’s not going to change my mind.”

I slump down on a kitchen chair and stare at my hands in my lap. I’m running out of arguments, and I really need to find a way to win this one.

“I don’t like being left here alone,” I tell him. “I even had a nightmare the other night that had me so paranoid, I thought someone else was in the apartment. I barely slept at all.”

“You didn’t tell me about that.”

“It was just a dream.”

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