Page 73 of Promise of Destruction

“I’m fine.” I tell him, crossing my legs and rolling my shoulders to try and relieve the itch of the lace on my skin.

My leggings are comfortable, and so is the sweater I threw on. It’s just the boob cage giving me grief right now.

I wonder if I can sneak into the airport bathroom and whip it off without him noticing. I’ll leave it in the trash if I have to.

“Fine?” Declan laughs. “You are anything but fine, Soren. You are a walking disaster.”

I want to be annoyed that he keeps calling me out on my mess, but he says things without malice. It’s like hemeansto insult me but lacks the conviction to follow through.

“What a pair.” I smile. “A walking disaster and a walking red flag.”

He grins at that.

“So,” I prompt. “A deal’s a deal.”

“Yes.” Declan nods seriously. “I got you out of your grandma’s funeral dress and into something a modern woman would wear to travel. Now you want to know where we’re going, right?”

“Yes.” I snap. “Cause right now, this feels like a clever kidnapping.”

He winces a little; I’m taken aback. We’ve been trading insults and spitting vitriol at one another non-stop since we met. He’s watched me through my windows, spied on me, invited himself into my house, and suggested a few of the dozens of wicked things he could do to me. I’d never expect joking about kidnapping to be a hard limit for him.

“I recognize you don’t want to be here, but maybe let’s put on a show when we get where we’re going, hmm?”

I can put on a show, for sure, but I’m not sure it’s one Declan would want to participate in.

I decide not to say anything other than to ask, “Which is…?”

He hefts a sigh, rubbing his eyes with his fingertips. “Costa Rica.”

My heart stutters in surprise, not sure my ears heard that right. “Wh-what?”

“Costa Rica.” His lips twist into something that looks like a grimace of pain. “I have a… contact who needs my help, so we’re going to help him.”

The way he says ‘contact’ makes it clear that we’re not on holiday to help an old friend, and if this is a business trip, why wouldn’t he just say it’s to help a colleague?

“Vague.” I say finally, crossing my arms and looking out the window. After all the mystery about where we were going and the revelation, I expected something more.

I should have known better.

Declan laughs. “You think you know me, Soren?”

I turn to find him with his brilliant green eyes locked on me. It sends something fluttering in my stomach. I don’t think I know him, actually—not at all.

I’d thought he was a murderer. I’d thought he was a monster who ruined lives for sport and delighted in the misery of others. Parts of him have proven my assumptions correct, but other parts of him, I simply can’t reconcile with the man before me. The man who bandaged my feet after I stepped on glass and held me against his chest and called a doctor to treat my hangover… those things are round pieces in a jagged puzzle. I can’t make them fit into the same picture.

“Yes.”

“Well, then you won’t be surprised by what you see.” He shakes his head, looking disappointed by my answer. “Just remember the NDA you signed.”

I swallow the lump that rises in my throat at what he’s suggesting. I don’t know what he’s trying to prepare me for, but the words make me cold and I’m errantly grateful for the sweatshirt I threw on instead of the tank top.

forty-nine

Declan

“That’swhatwe’reflyingin?” Soren’s voice trembles a little as we pull into the airfield and stop in front of the jet.

“Only the best,” I assure her drily.