Page 31 of No Lies No Promises

There’s no winning. Refuse, and she leaves. Agree, and she might die.

“Please, tell me you understand.” Her argument continues all the way to Queens, through finding a parking place, then up the stairs to our apartment, but I’m not budging.

Ab-so-fucking-lutely not.

Patting Buddy, I nod. “Tell you what. How about we ask Dante? Get his opinion?”

In the bedroom, while I swap scrubs for clean sweats, my phone rings.

“There he is now…” With a fast swipe across the screen, I answer, “Wassup?”

“How is she?” Out of character, the normally chill Dante snaps at me.

I hold the phone between us as Lillian snips off her hospital wristband.

“Mild concussion,” she says, flicking the plastic into the bin. “Some smoke inhalation. No big deal except for the red Louboutins.”

The asshole could’ve killed her—dumped her in the ocean. That is a fucking huge deal.

“Meow?” My furry friend circles my ankles.

“Sorry, pal. Dinner’s late.” Glad for an excuse to remove myself from the discussion, I trot into the kitchen and pour him some kibble. “Can you talk some sense into her? I’ve tried. She needs to stay away from Pearson.”

Walking down the hall, pulling a T-shirt over her head, my partner bristles. “Hey, she is right here. It wasn’t my fault he—”

“Stop.” My boss clears his throat. After a short silence, his voice turns icy. “Until I say so, you’re not to go anywhere near Pearson. Later.”

When I hang up, she scowls, fists clenched. “Dammit, I hate it when you do that.”

My patience snaps. “Do what? Try to keep you alive? Fuck. For once in your life. Think.”

Chapter 16

Sean

As I stand in her ever-shrinking kitchen, wondering how not to screw up worse, I rasp a palm across my stubbled chin. “Listen, I apologize. I didn’t mean to bark.”

“Sorry.” While unloading the dishwasher, her hair hides her face.

“No, babe. It’s all me.” I tilt her chin, and a tear slides down her cheek. Worse than sobbing, it breaks me. A normal man would take her in his arms, make love to her, but I can’t. I can’t even breathe.

What if she dies because I let her go off half-cocked? “Going for a walk. Gotta clear my head.”

“Sure.” Her gaze sinks to the floor. “Go.”

Wishing I could stay to fix this, I tuck her chin. “I’ll be back soon. Promise.”

The hole in my leg complains as my leather sneakers pound the wet sidewalk. Sprinkles turn to rain, drenching my sweats. I ignore it all. Physical pain beats the mental crap any day. Why won’t she listen to me? She’s had two close calls. Somebody wants her dead. Is it Jeff? If so, we can’t prove it. Who else could it be? Why does talking about my old man turn me into a raging lunatic?

I hardly remember arriving at Talon Bar, but somehow, I sit under the string of lights where the nondenominational holiday balls used to hang.

As my chest tightens a bit more, Pierre, the tatted bartender, raises a pierced brow. “Regular?”

“Please.” IPA in hand, I head for the roofed section of the terrace, claiming an empty booth beneath the vines.

Alone.

Before long, a young blonde dressed in black plops down beside me.