Fearless (Broken Love, #5)

When I closed the front door, I was greeted with silence. I was sad to admit I expected to be greeted with rage.

Would I ever get over the little slice of fear I still held for him? It had been four years since we’ve been together, and he’d never given me a reason to fear him any longer. How could I admit four years of love didn’t seem long enough to battle ten years of torment? The thought alone was heartbreaking, but to voice it felt like a betrayal.

I heard his footsteps pounding down the stairs, and then he appeared dressed in a plain white long sleeve shirt and dark jeans. I noticed a duffle bag slung over his shoulder and my heart skipped a beat.

He wouldn’t leave me because I told a little white lie, would he?

“Wh—where are you going?”

“Jesse and I have a meeting with a potential client in Texas. They want to meet us face to face and see up front what we’re offering.”

“How long will you be gone? The wedding—”

“I’ll be back in time,” he answered before I could finish. He stood on the bottom step, staring and assessing. I refused to fidget like a scolded child, so I met his stare.

He saw right through me and dropped his duffle. The loud thud rang out, but I refused to give in to my inner coward. When he closed in on me with sure steps, I never faltered even if my common sense was telling me to run. The faster, the better.

“If you want to test me, you better be sure you’re ready for the consequences.”

“Don’t threaten me, Keiran. I’m not your plaything anymore.”

“You should know better by now. I’m going to ask you this once, so think about your answer. Are you hiding something?”

“What makes you think I’m hiding something?”

“You’ve been off. Do I need to be worried?”

I wasn’t about to tell him the truth, so I stuck with a version of it. “I’m worried about finals and my grandmother settling into a new place.”

He searched my face for the longest time, but I was sure he would find nothing. He seemed to realize it too because the next instant, his hands were on my face and his lips took hold of mine. We were moving backward, and then my back was against the wall. His hips moved against me, and I couldn’t help but voice my pleasure for the way he commanded my body.

Sometimes I was sure I hated him as much as I craved him.

“I need to protect you,” he mumbled against my lips. “Can you understand that?”

The only answer I could muster was to whimper. He swallowed it and me whole. I wanted to be consumed by him.

“Pay attention.”

“I can’t. You’re kissing me.”

I shouldn’t have said that. He pulled away from my lips but kept the length of his hard body against mine. Without the drug of his kiss, I was forced to face the raw emotion consuming the gray of his eyes. “I need to trust you.”

“You can.”

“Can I?” I was hurt by the doubt in his gaze but then reminded myself I deserved it.

My nod came slowly as I fought the lump in my throat. What did he want me to do? I needed to protect him as much as he needed to protect me. If our roles were reversed, I had no doubt he would fill my shoes the very way I did.

“Forever, Lake. I’ll love you.”

“Forever,” I whispered back, ignoring the guilt that ate at me for what I planned to do.

When he left, I breathed a little easier because if he had stayed a second longer, he would have broken me. I stood against the wall contemplating if the road I took tomorrow would doom me forever.

Get a grip, Monroe.

How hard could killing one man be?



*



I sent emails to my professors bright and early, excusing my absence, and arrived at the rehabilitation center later that morning. Little sleep and a long drive had done nothing to settle my rattled nerves. All night, I had battled my conscience and the nagging thought that this wouldn’t end well.

Keeping my head low, I made my way to the back exit I’d noticed employees use for a smoke break during my grandmother’s intake. Unfortunately, it was locked from the outside.

Checking to make sure the coast was clear, I ducked behind the dumpster close by and waited. It wasn’t long—twenty-three minutes to be exact—when the first employee burst through the door with a lit cigarette already in hand. He had his phone to his ear cursing whoever was on the line and didn’t see me as I stealthily caught the heavy door and slipped inside.