Page 30 of Where Sinners Repent

You got what you wanted, sweetheart. Now you can live with taking another man’s life.

The asshole behind the bar doesn’t spare me a glance. I doubt he’s even noticed me. It’s one thing I’ve learnt to live with. Going unnoticed.

My gun is wrapped in my hand in a second, and now that it’s pointed straight at him, he’s noticed me.

Funny that.

My thumb cocks the slide with a sharp click, and his eyes widen comically as he stumbles back towards the bottles of liquor, hands coming up.

“Kai!” Roxy gasps.

“Dude!” he pleads, terror draining the colour from his face. “I didn’t know she was taken. My bad, man!”

Faintly, over the rushing in my ears, I hear people dropping behind booths or whimpering in fear. I can smell it.

“Stop, Kai,” Roxy pleads, her hand wrapping around my forearm. “Please!”

The barrel doesn’t waver as I slowly turn my head towards her. “Get in the car.”

The drive back was silent. A part of me expected her to scream. Demand answers about why I did what I did. Answers that I don’t have. The steering wheel creaks under my grip, and my boot is pressed flat against the accelerator.

I need to get to that meeting with the Devils.

Find out what our next steps are.

I can feel her staring at me. Her eyes burn the side of my face.

I don’t look at her. Not a glance when I hop into the elevator beside her, pressing the penthouse button. Not for a second when I unlock the door and walk her in.

Ash will have someone come and stand by her front door, just while I attend the meeting. I don’t tell her that.

Silently, she wanders through the house. Finally, I look at her. Only when she won’t notice. Like now, as she marvels at the huge windows and the city below us.

Stalking through the kitchen, I pull out a bottle of water and place it on the island as a silent reminder, before turning to leave.

“Wait,” she whispers, and I freeze with my back to her. “You can’t just do that and walk away without an explanation.”

The muscles in my back go taut. I can do exactly that.

Her soft footsteps approach me. A delicate hand lands over my spine. Lands over a scar that she doesn’t know exists.

“Kai,” she murmurs.

I hate the way she says my name. It sounds like a plea.

Her hand slides from my back, fingertips skimming down my arm until they find my wrist. Another raw scar she can’t see.

“Stay,” she whispers.

This girl.

Asking me to stay after I just pulled a weapon on a guy for making her laugh. The only reason I didn’t decorate that liquor shelf with brains was because of the horror on her face when I first walked into that studio and she stood frozen, eyes locked on the beautifully caved in skull at her feet. While she was horrified, my dick twitched when I saw it.

A part of me wants to go back to the bar and finish the job.

Why isn’t she scared? She should be scared.

Anger bubbles up at the way she’s touching me.