Page 161 of Unsuitable

Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any worse, I open a door and find Dexter’s secret lair.

Kas lets out another sigh. This one sounds tired.

“Evan Foster slit his own throat. He bled to death in his bathtub. And Levi Betts was stabbed to death in an alleyway. Drug deal gone wrong apparently.” His steady black eyes stay carefully on mine.

Swallowing nervously, I glance back at the knives on the table.

Did one of those knives…

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

My pulse is pounding in my ears, my skin prickling with nerves and, most of all, disbelief. I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.

I never really thought about what was behind that door. But, in my wildest imagination, I never thought it was this.

“An-and…” I carefully bring my eyes back to him. My stare catches on his scars. I never normally see them; they don’t stand out to me because they’re a part of him.

But, now, I’m seeing them.

I lift my eyes to his and gulp. “Di-did you…have anything to do with their…deaths?”

His eyes flicker with something…fear maybe?

He blows out a breath. It sounds resigned.

When he looks back at me, the look in his eyes is wary. “I think you know the answer to that as well.”

“Oh, Jesus.” I back up a step and bump into the desk, making the knives and gun rattle.

Kas’s eyes go straight to them and then back to me.

I sidestep the desk, moving away but not too far away that I can’t grab a weapon if I need to. “You killed them both.”

“Yes.”

Oh God.

“And you’re going to kill Damien.”

He doesn’t answer. He just stares steadily back at me, like he’s weighing up how to answer.

But he doesn’t need to answer because I already know.

Damien’s picture wouldn’t be pinned up on that wall next to theirs if Kas weren’t planning on killing him.

“How will Damien die?” I whisper.

“Painfully.”

“Oh God. Are you going to kill me, too?”

“What?” He looks stunned, like I just punched him in his face.

His whole demeanor changes. His arms drop from the doorframe, and he steps forward, eyes wide with shock. “Jesus. No. Of course not. Why would you ever think that?”

And it’s this moment that my brain chooses to explode out through my mouth. “Because you have guns and knives in here! And you’ve killed two men already—who, of course, deserved it—and you are planning to kill another man—who also deserves it! But you’ve killed people, and you have my picture all over your goddamn wall!” I slice a hand in the direction of the pictures. My chest heaves with fearful, angry breaths as the echo of my words silently reverberate around the room.

Kas drags a hand through his hair, his other hand crossing his chest to cover his heart. “I would never hurt you, Daisy. Never,” he states emphatically. “This”—he moves a hand, gesturing to his wall of fame—“is just a part of my life that I never wanted you to find out about.”