“Where do you work?”
“Manhattan,” Kian replies without missing a beat. “I work for this little start-up IT firm.”
“You don’t look like an IT guy,” Officer Sanchez comments.
Kian laughs. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
I really want to stop looking at him, but I can’t. All the danger and menace that radiated from him only seconds ago is gone. With that smile on his face, he can only be described as charming.
His looks definitely contribute. He’s got features that might have been called pretty if they weren’t seasoned with age. The blue eyes, the sun-kissed amber hair, the square of his jaw… It’s a lot to handle.
I’ve heard somewhere that humanity tends to root for good-looking people. I’ve never believed that more than right now. But it’s not just his looks. He’s charismatic, too. I can feel Officer Sanchez and his colleague being drawn in by that charisma.
If I had been the one with a fresh slice above my eyebrow, this might have played out differently. But since Kian’s the one sporting the wound, both officers seem eager to believe the story he’s given them.
“Uh, Mr. O’Malley,” Sanchez says, “you seem like a very nice young couple, but I’m afraid because of the distress call…”
“You have to look around,” Kian fills in instantly. “Of course. I completely understand.”
He does? I’d expected him to get rid of them at the door.Then again, he has no idea that my brother is slumped against the kitchen wall with a gushing stab wound in his abdomen.
If the cops end up doing a full inspection of the house, they’re sure to find him. And then what?
Will Kian O’Sullivan really slaughter two police officers? In my heart, I have to believe that he would.
And if he’ll kill them… what’s stopping him from killing me?
Kian holds the door open wider and allows both cops to walk through. Then he drapes his arm around me casually. I tense against him, but his hand squeezes gently down on my shoulder.
To the cops, I’m sure it looks like a gesture of comfort. But I recognize it for what it is: a warning.
“How long have you lived here?” Sanchez asks, turning on the spot.
The younger cop, Briggs, looks around more thoroughly, but his heart doesn’t seem in it. He’s more interested in observing Kian and me.
“We’re renting, actually,” Kian replies. “We moved here a little over a year ago, just after we got married.”
“Newlyweds?”
“That’s us,” Kian says, looking down at me with an expression so loving that I almost do a double take. Hell, for a second there, I almost wonder if there was a wedding somewhere along the line that I forgot about.
“What do you do, ma’am?” Briggs asks me, circling the living room—for what reason, I don’t know.
“Oh, I… um…” I come up blank.
And my hesitation gets a look from both officers.
Kian’s arm tightens on the back of my neck. It’s not a nice touch anymore. It’s hard and cruel—a reminder of what’s at stake here.
“She’s between jobs at the moment,” Kian steps in. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. It happens to everyone.”
He gives me a look of understanding, but there’s subtext in his eyes. A clear message that’s impossible to miss. Play along or else.
I take a deep breath and fill my face with disappointment. Unsurprisingly, that turns out to be relatively easy. I have a lifetime of being disappointed to draw from.
“I got laid off recently,” I sigh. “And it’s not—you know, not exactly the easiest thing to admit to people.”
Both cops look at me with sympathy. I guess they bought the lie. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Sanchez says kindly. “But don’t worry. You’ll find another job. A better one.”