Hell Breaks Loose (Devil's Rock #2)(54)

“Now why am I having a hard time believing you?”

“I’ll do it.” In that moment, he would say whatever lie he had to. “I’ll kill her. Consider it done.”

The sharp gasp behind him had him spinning around. His mouth dried as his gaze clashed with Grace. He shook his head at her, trying to convey that he didn’t mean it, that she didn’t need to be afraid of him, but she backed up a step, and just like that their tenuous truce snapped like a twig.

Sullivan kept talking in his ear, but he could hardly hear what he was saying. All he could see was Grace’s face losing color. “. . . let us know when it’s done. Call Zane and he’ll give you instructions and tell you where we can meet.”

“Understood,” he said, not looking away from Grace. Even from where he stood he could see the fierce hammer of her pulse at the base of her throat. In that moment she reminded him of a frightened doe, prepared to bolt.

“Good. We’ll be seeing each other soon, then.”

He grunted something that must have been satisfactory, because the line went dead in his ear. He lowered the phone to the counter. “Gracie—”

“No.” She held up her hand, palm face out as though that could ward him off. “Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that. Like we’re friends. Like you’re actually helping me. Like you don’t mean to kill me.”

“I was lying—”

“Oh, really? To me? Or whoever you were talking to?” She rounded the counter, her gaze darting wildly, panicked in her search for an escape. She made a dart for the door, but he cut her off, light on the balls of his feet. She turned and raced back into the kitchen, positioning herself behind the small island. As if that would keep him from her if he in fact wanted to get to her. He could easily vault the damn thing, but he didn’t want to scare her any more than she was.

He flattened his hands on the island counter. “I was just saying that to appease him. You can’t think after everything that I would do that to you—”

“You’re a liar.” She shook her head, her long braid of dark hair bouncing over her shoulder and partly unraveling. Just like he was unraveling inside. She looked at him with such terror. “Every time your lips move it’s just lies . . .”

“That’s not true. You don’t believe that.” He took a step to round the island.

She pushed that hand farther out. “Stop. Stop right there.”

He hesitated before continuing, all the while talking to her in a low, coaxing voice. “Be reasonable, Grace. You know me. You know I won’t—”

Her face screwed up in scorn. “I don’t know you. I know you’re an escaped convict and you’ve been playing with my head since the moment you walked into my life. I know you belong to a gang of criminals who abduct innocent people.”

Frustration bubbled up inside him. All the ground he’d covered with her, gone. Just like that. And after all he’d done to try to keep her safe.

“Now listen here, Gracie—”

Her gaze performed a quick scan again, landing on the knife near the cutting board. She snatched it up and brandished it in front of her, gripping it with both hands.

He lifted his hands and waved them slowly. “Come on, Gracie . . . put the knife down.”

She shook her head, wisps of dark hair escaping the loose braid. “Nuh-uh.”

He lifted his arm, stretching a hand out toward her over the island. “Hand it to me, Gracie. Before someone gets hurt.”

“Yeah. By someone you mean you.”

He hesitated, studying her carefully before continuing, “What are you going to do, Gracie? Are you gonna use that knife on me?”

“Yes.” She stabbed toward him as he inched another step around the island. “Maybe.” She matched his step, sidling around and keeping herself directly across from him.

“You wouldn’t do that. You wouldn’t hurt anyone.” He kept coming and she kept retreating. He took that as a good sign. She didn’t want to use the knife. That was something at least.

“Don’t be too sure of that. Self-defense is a great incentive. ”

“You don’t need to defend yourself against me. I’m not going to hurt you. I’m trying to help you.”

She shook her head, her knife bobbing in the air. “You expect me to believe you after what I just heard?”

He lunged across the island, grabbing her arm and dragging her around, closing the distance between them. “I think I’ll risk it,” he growled.

She whipped the knife around, pressing the tip of the blade to the center of his throat, directly into the center of his collarbone. It wasn’t the first time anyone held a knife to him. In prison, he’d stared down a shiv plenty of times. He even bore a few scars from when they made contact.

It was, however, the first time a woman pointed one at him. Especially a woman he cared about. Christ. With a jolt he realized he did care about her. He wanted to keep her safe, and it wasn’t just because it was the right thing to do. It wasn’t simply because he wasn’t a killer. He wanted to keep her safe because the idea of anything happening to her filled his heart with a sick ache.

“I’ll do it,” she whispered, her wild-eyed gaze dropping to where the knife pricked his flesh. She flexed her fingers around the hilt, and for one moment he wondered if he was taking a gamble. Her eyes glittered with fear, but there was resolve mixed in there, too. She could easily plunge the knife into him.