No Place to Run (KGI #2)(24)

Yes, she knew her father required his men to have the symbol of their loyalty branded into their arm. It was barbaric and senseless, but then he’d never had a shortage of men willing to die for him.

“You need to start talking, Sophie. There’s a hell of a lot I need to know.”

If he was angry, she could deal with that. Anger would be justified. But his voice was cold. He could have been interrogating a prisoner.

I’m pregnant with your child. She wanted to scream it. Don’t you remember how we made her?

“I didn’t betray you, Sam,” she said fiercely.

His lips tightened. He glanced toward his brothers, who stood silently across the room, and dismissed them with a nod.

As soon as they were gone, Sam stood, as if he couldn’t bear to sit that close to her. For a while he kept his back turned, and heavy silence settled over the room. Then he turned, his eyes flat.

“Then tell me, Sophie. What exactly did you do?”

She flinched and it pissed her off. She felt pinned to the couch, helpless. She couldn’t stand the weight of his stare another moment.

Her hands curled over the edge of the couch, and she pushed herself up, ignoring the pain in her arm.

“Sit down, Sophie.”

He didn’t bark the order, but it was an order nonetheless. Her chin went up in her best go-to-hell impression.

It took courage to go to him. Courage to face him down when he could so easily turn away and crush her without thought.

It made her angry that she cared. Made her angry that it mattered. She’d done what she had to do to survive. She shouldn’t have to explain herself to anyone.

“I knew you had secrets, that you weren’t honest with me,” she said.

“Yes, I suppose you did.”

The words tripped out with a hint of sarcasm. She ignored it and went on, refusing to give him the fight he seemed to want.

“I knew and I understood. I didn’t care. I wanted that time with you even though I knew when it was over that you’d walk away and that I was never supposed to know who you were or ever expect more than what you gave me.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he looked away as if he was uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had turned. Would it kill him so much to admit that she’d hurt him? Did anything hurt this man? She wasn’t trying to make him feel guilt. She accepted her role in deception as easily as she’d accepted his. Maybe she would have felt differently if she’d ever believed even for a moment that things were honest between them.

“I didn’t betray you,” she said again.

His gaze lifted, and those piercing blue eyes caught her again. This time there was a genuine question there instead of accusation and disbelief.

“Tell me.”

Sweet relief sang through her mind. The weight that hovered so unbearably on her shoulders lightened, and she forgot the pain in her arm—and in her heart.

With those two words he told her he’d listen.

“I’ve already explained that my father sent me to you. He wanted me to glean whatever information I could—in any manner it took.”

“And you went.”

She closed her eyes. She knew how bad it looked. She wouldn’t apologize though, and she wouldn’t allow Sam to make her feel shame for her choice.

“You were my best chance at escape. I never intended to do anything more than make my father think I was doing what he wanted. But I saw you and I wanted you more than I wanted my freedom.”

The color deepened in his eyes. They went dark and his body went still.

“Why did you want your freedom?” he asked softly.

She kept her gaze even, not betraying the surge of rage that flashed through her blood.

“I hated him.”

Sam’s brow furrowed and he frowned. “Why?”

“You know what kind of man he was—is.”

“But what did he do to you, Sophie?”

“Besides demanding that I whore myself for him? Is it important? I would think that’s bad enough. You said it yourself. Who the hell does that? What kind of father asks his daughter to do that?”

It wasn’t everything, but it was all Sam needed to know, and it was certainly a credible enough reason for a daughter to hate her father.

“Remember the note, Sam? The one you received that last morning?”

He nodded.

“I’m the one who sent it. I’m the one who told you about the arms shipment and when and where it was going down.”

His eyes widened in shock and then narrowed just as quickly. His lips drew into a tight line, and he looked suspiciously at her.

She rubbed her chest, trying in vain to wipe away the ache. No, he didn’t trust her. She didn’t blame him, but it hurt nonetheless.

“Want me to tell you what was in it?”

She quoted back the contents in a low, steady voice and never broke his gaze. She wouldn’t look away, wouldn’t give him any reason to believe she was lying. Word for word. She knew them by heart. She should. She’d typed up the note, printed it out in the hotel lobby and paid the front desk clerk to deliver it.

Sam dragged a hand over his hair, looked away and then back at her, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Why? I don’t understand. Why not just tell me?”