Page 2 of Sinister Promise

I’d known better than to look. To see.To know.

When I was hired, my boss had been very clear about the rules.

See nothing.

Say nothing.

Hear nothing.

The man had actually pointed to one of those silly monkey sculptures on his desk to reinforce what he was saying.

Judging by the criminal clientele in the building, what my boss had really meant to convey was…

See no evil.

Say no evil.

Hear no evil.

Literally…

It was why this job paid twice as much as similar positions everywhere else.

Crime paid.

They paid for discretion. For blind silence.

My job, as part of the overnight crew, wasn't just to clean.

It was to keep my head down and my mouth shut.

Usually that wasn't a problem.

Until that moment.

Not knowing what to do, I'd squeaked out a weak “thank you” before turning on my knees to shove the fistfuls of paper I was still clutching into my trash bag so I could get the hell out of there.

I’d realized my mistake when the silence in the room was pierced by the sharp intake of breath through his teeth.

There wasn't a doubt in my mind he was enjoying the view of my bent-over ass in yoga pants.

I closed my eyes as embarrassed agony warmed my cheeks.

Scrambling to my feet, I latched onto my cleaning cart and lowered my head, determined to slip past him.

No such luck.

He’d stretched his arm across the door, barring my escape. Then his free hand had caught my chin, forcing my face up to meet his. "What is your name, little one?"

The thick Russian accent had made his question sound more like the growl of a black bear despite the highlyinappropriate endearment. His touch had burned against my skin, unwanted heat spreading through me even as fear tightened within me.

I’d swallowed hard as my hands grew slick against the plastic handle of my cart. Clearing my throat, I told him, "Mary."

A lie.

Before he could respond, I'd shoved the cart forward and ducked under his arm, breaking the spell of his touch. The cleaning cart clattered as I’d sprinted down the hall, praying with every fiber of my being that he wouldn't follow.

That had happened weeks ago and just the memory of it still rattled me to my core.

---