Page 1 of Sinful Promise
MINKA
For tonight, the inside of a monster’s safehouse is not safe at all. It’s dark. A little drafty. The furniture is musty, and the windows are a flimsy excuse for security.
I tiptoe through the old, most-of-the-way dilapidated home, so all I hear is the constant hum of traffic on the street, and the buzz of a television set somewhere upstairs. My footsteps are silent, but I hear my heart and the staccato of my breathing. To me, it’s a roar. But as I pause at the bottom of the staircase and meet Archer Malone’s brutal stare just over my shoulder, I know I can’t be all that loud.
He would tell me if I was.
He would make damn sure we move in stealth.
In and out, we agreed.Finish it,then we move along.
Before I can start up the stairs, Archer places his left hand on my shoulder to keep me in place. The heat in his stare speaks a thousand words, but his lips remain in a firm line.
He points with his free hand, as though to show me which way we’re going, but all I see is the silver glint of his gun, and the vicious barrel tip that so easily extinguishes lives.
“Arch—”
His brows pull close as hesilentlypoints up the stairs again.
With an impatient exhale, I transfer my switchblade to my left hand, and use my right to lower his arm. “The TV’s on,” I whisper. “He’s here alone.”
“Stop. Speaking,” he grits out. Anger courses through his nervous system, and misplaced jitters make him panic. He’s not nervous for himself; his issue lies solely in the fact that I’m here too. “Goddammit, Mayet. Shut up.”
“I never asked you to be here.” I step onto the tips of my toes and press a kiss to my husband’s firm jaw. Comfort. Confidence. Love. Then lowering, I turn and start up the stairs. “I work alone.”
“Not anymore, you don’t.” With a huff of exasperation, he takes the steps two at a time and passes me on the third, so he becomes my shield. My protector, like always.
Once he’s ahead, he slows his progress, blocking my way and controlling how quickly we move.
“In sickness and health,” he growls. “Homicidal tendencies and all.”
He acts like I slice the throats of men for fun. Like my hunger for homicide is as silly as another’s for chocolate. But that’s not what this is about… It’s never been a matter of killing for sport. Or for leisure. Or for anything except to protect those who can’t protect themselves.
In this case, to stop a reign of terror on innocent little girls, when a perpetrator dances with the law and gets away with their crimes anyway.
Sliding my finger through a beltloop of Archer’s jeans, I keep us plastered close as we ascend the stairs. “Laramie Fentone raped a little girl,” I murmur at his back. At six feet, three inches tall—plus a step between us—he’s far too tall for me to whisper into his ear. But I know he hears me. He’s as finely attuned to my every word as I am to his.
Because he’s my soulmate. My forever.
He’s my rockhopper penguin, and he’s with me inside a monster’s home tonight, willing to commit murder in the name of love.
Despite the fact he’s a homicide cop by day.
“He bragged to me,” I continue almost silently. “He did it, Archer. And I waited for Detective Franklin to do the right thing and put him away, but he wouldn’t. Or couldn’t.” Shaking my head, I move up to the step he’s on, and tense when the timber groans under our combined weight.
My gaze snaps down to our feet… to his, wrapped in heavy work boots, and mine, in sneakers countless people buy and wear every year. They’re nondescript. Untraceable. But still, heavy enough to make the floor creak.
Is Fentone awake?
Will he step out of his room and screw us over before we have time to do this quietly?
“I waited for justice to come for those girls.” Slowly, I bring my gaze back up until I’m staring into a pair of emeralds. “But he got away with it anyway.”
“Babe…” Archer moans. “Sometimes, that’s just how—”
“You can wait out front.” I resume the climb, knowing I’m on the clock and need to get this done now. If I take too long, I risk being dragged out and taken home for safekeeping.
It’s not that Archer hasn’t got the guts to avenge a little girl. It’s not even that he’s never killed a man with his own hands. He is simply concerned that his wife will get tossed into a cage and be locked up there for the next hundred or so years.
