Page 49 of Deceit & Desire

I nodded, and prayed I wasn’t lying when I told her, “Of course I’ll come home to you, baby.”

Chapter19

You Won’t Get to Her

PLAYLIST: “THE DEVIL DOESN’T BARGAIN” BY ALEC BENJAMIN

ROMAN

The rideto the station felt like purgatory. The hum of the car’s engine and the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath the tires only amplified the suffocating tension inside the cab.

Barton sat in the driver’s seat like a king on his throne, radiating self-importance. One hand gripped the wheel with casual arrogance, while the other drummed an erratic pattern on the door panel. He wasn’t even looking at the road half the time, too busy sneaking glances at me in the rearview mirror, his sharp brown eyes gleaming with barely concealed glee.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” His voice was smooth, almost conversational, but it cut through the silence like the blade of a well-honed hunting knife. “Or maybe you’re just saving your breath for the lies you’re planning to spin once we get there.”

I kept my gaze on the horizon, where the Montana plains stretched out endlessly, painted in muted shades of gold and green under the late afternoon sun. The land was wide open, free, everything this cramped car wasn’t.

“I don’t owe you a conversation,” I said evenly, keeping my focus on the landscape outside.

His laugh was sharp, bitter, and as unpleasant as the man himself.

“That so?” He drummed his fingers against the wheel in a mockery of a beat. “You think staying quiet makes you look noble? Makes you look strong?”

I shrugged, not bothering to respond out loud. He wasn’t worth it.

He let out a scoff, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe my audacity. “I gotta say, I almost admire your loyalty to Zoe. It’s cute, in a pathetic sort of way. But here’s the thing—loyalty won’t mean shit when I’ve got you pinned to the wall.”

I clenched my jaw, refusing to take the bait. Barton was the type who thrived on reactions, the kind who liked to poke and prod until he got a rise out of someone.

Not this time.

The station came into view, a squat brick building that looked as tired as the man driving me there. Barton pulled into the lot with exaggerated slowness, his smirk growing wider as the car rolled to a stop. He was out of the car in an instant, slamming the door behind him with a force that felt like punctuation to some internal monologue I was glad not to hear. He leaned against the hood, arms crossed, his smug grin practically daring me to make a move.

I took my time stepping out, matching his gaze with a flat, unreadable expression. His eyes narrowed, just slightly, as if my calm irritated him.

Good.

“Let’s see how long you can keep up the strong, silent act once we’re inside, York,” he said, jerking his head toward the entrance. “I’ve got all day.”

The interrogation room was no better than the ride over. The air was thick and stale, the kind that clung to your skin and made you want to claw at your collar. The walls were an unremarkable beige, but somehow they felt oppressive, as if the paint itself conspired to make the space feel smaller. Barton took his time settling in, dragging the chair back with an obnoxious screech before dropping into it like he owned the place. The file he carried hit the table with a resounding thud, the papers inside jumping slightly from the impact.

Barton leaned back, his smirk firmly in place as he tapped his fingers on the table. “So, Roman, care to tell me where you really were last night?”

“I was in bed with my wife, Zoe, all night long,” I said, my tone as steady as my posture.

His smirk faltered, just for a second, before he leaned forward, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “Right. And you expect me to believe Zoe will back you up? As soon as she gets in here, she’ll throw you under the bus, and you’ll end up in jail for her. That’s the thanks you get.”

I crossed my arms, keeping my voice calm and even. “She wouldn’t have married me if she intended to run away again. My wife’s not going anywhere. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

Barton’s eyes narrowed, his fingers tapping faster against the table. The sound was incessant, like the ticking of a bomb. “You’re a fool, Roman. Everything is going to fall on you, and you’re prepared to take the fall for her?”

I uncrossed my arms, leaning forward slightly to meet him head-on. “If it does, it does. I’m prepared to take that for the woman I love. You don’t even have something like that for yourself. What does that say about you?”

The flush in Barton’s face deepened, his composure slipping as he stood abruptly, his movements sharp and jerky. He leaned over the table, looming like he thought it would intimidate me. “You’re an asshole, Roman. You think you can outsmart me? We’ll see about that.”

I stayed seated, calm and unflinching, meeting his glare with unwavering resolve.

“Do whatever you have to. It won’t change the facts.”

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