Page 55 of Sweet Ruin

Kane spreads his arms wide. “I’m not a bank.”

“No kidding. Your customer service sucks.”

I take a step back and my heel finds a patch of ice. I’d have fallen if Kane hadn’t reached out just then to catch my elbow and steady me.

Nice of him. I assume he’s just protecting his newfound merchandise.

I pull away from his touch just to be safe.

“Okay. Second question,” I say. “When you say ‘take me,’ what exactly are we talking about? Because I have a business to run and a divorce to file and I’m not really built for a dungeon lifestyle.”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

“See, this is why nobody trusts you people.” I fold my arms, mostly because they’re freezing. “You could just tell me. Words are free. Say a sentence.”

He looks at me for a long moment. Behind me, voices are rising in the house. More glass breaks. I don’t know who’s fighting or why, but I’m glad to be out of there. I’m sure that a horde of angry Dorseys with pitchforks and torches will be bursting through the doors to chase me down any second. I need to make an exit, ASAP.

I would do it right now, if there weren’t a tall, stubborn, cryptic Bratva boss in my way.

“Let’s go,” Kane says.

“With you? No thanks. I’m not a fan of kidnapping.”

“If I were kidnapping you,” he says, “we wouldn’t be talking.”

That is, unfortunately, a very good point.

“I’m walking to the water,” I insist anyway. “That was my first plan and I’m sticking to it.”

“You’ll get frostbite in twenty minutes.”

“It’s not like that’s going to make my evening much worse, is it?”

He sighs. “You weren’t this stubborn earlier.”

I tilt my chin up. “I’d say ‘Get used to it,’ but you won’t be around me long enough for that.”

“Suit yourself.” He touches my elbow again, lightly and yet somehow enough to pull me alongside him. “Then let’s start walking.”

But that makes me dig my heels in. “‘Let’s,’ you said. What did you mean by that?”

“I mean that I’m coming with you.”

“Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Thanks, but no thanks, and really not any thanks at all. I’m good. This is a solo mission.”

He shakes his head and a lock of dark hair falls across his broad forehead. “Not anymore.”

And then he starts walking.

Not with a hand on me or a nod to some unseen goons to drag me along in his wake. He just turns and goes down the middle of the street, looking so ridiculously out of place in this quiet neighborhood that my brain short-circuits trying to make sense of him.

I’m left marooned behind him at the end of the driveway, lips and fingertips already turning blue from the freezing temperatures.

I look behind me. There’s a house full of people who hate me now, with good reason. And, well, likewise. I just ruined their lives and mine along with them.

But in front of me is a man who has made it clear—well, not super clear, since he seems highly partial to cryptic sentences—but at least somewhat clear that he is a dangerous man who runs dangerous businesses, and that I am somehow ensnared in his schemes now.

Am I really gonna choose him over my viper of a sister and traitor of a husband?