Page 100 of Stolen Temptation

My heart can’t take it.

I think I might be falling for this man.

The man who literally plucked me out of my life and plopped me right down in his.

The man who protected me in a dangerous situation.

The man who trusts me.

Shit. I can’t keep this from him any longer. I need to tell him the truth.

I squeeze my eyes shut, inhale a deep breath, and open them again. “Rory, there’s something you should know?—”

We’re interrupted by the sound of the giant library doors opening.

The fit blond I kicked in the face pokes his head inside. He looks excited.

Rory rises from his chair. “Darren? What’s going on?”

“Sorry to break this up, but I need to borrow Rory for a little bit. It shouldn’t take too long. Hopefully.”

Rory shoots me a scattered glance. “Why don’t you wait for me in here? I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

To my utter shock, he presses a quick kiss to the top of my head before following Darren out.

I exhale and drag my hand down my face. Saved by the bell. But my stay of execution is only delayed. When Rory returns, the first thing I need to do is tell him the other reason my mom and I lived at the De Luca estate.

I glance at all the books. In the meantime, at least I’m in the perfect spot for a distraction.

Chapter 26

Rory

Darren briefs me on the way.

Finn and Cian have begun interrogating foot soldiers present the night of the cop bust—the two who survived—to see if they noticed anything suspicious or out of the ordinary.

In other words, the hunt for the mole continues.

Who else could have tipped off the police about an operation that we planned and executed in near-total secrecy?

Every atom in my body would rather be wrapped around Kiara right now, but I guess I should count my blessings. My friends taking the lead on interrogation leaves me free to space out, and that’s exactly what I’m doing almost the second the library doors close behind me.

The slam of a fist on metal yanks me right out of my mental gymnastics.

Darren and I are standing behind the one-way mirror watching the interrogation. The observation room is cold gray, lit with bright, headache-inducing fluorescent lights. Inside Hold Unit 1, two low-level foot soldiers sit shaking in cheap metal folding chairs. Across the table from them, beneath more fluorescent lighting and an eerily creaking AC unit, sit Cianand Finn. Cian’s face is impassive as he regards the men—boys, really, they’re barely adults—across from him.

Finn’s fist is on the rickety table. He just got angry. Or he’s pretending to be to scare the kids.

Either way, Finn’s gift for interrogation is starting to pay off.

The foot soldiers—Miles and William, I think—are only around twenty years old, though their haggard appearances age them. Witnessing so many of their fellow soldiers die in that cop bust yesterday has them looking a bit gaunt.

Can’t blame them.

It’s like that the first time you see someone killed in front of you. At least, it was for me, many years ago.

“Whendid you fall back?” Finn demands this information from Miles, whose throat bobs as he swallows. Sweat beads on his forehead. His eyes are wide and shifty. Honestly, he seems like he’s about to piss his pants.