Page 75 of Sinner’s Game

He was falling in love with this woman, that much was certain, and it scared him to death. Here she was, trusting him, sleeping so peacefully in his arms even though the threat still surrounded them.

It didn’t matter. He’d do whatever he had to do to keep her safe, but he knew better than anyone that even his best might not be enough.

And his best? Really?

He was hiding in a damn safe house. Hiding and claiming her like he had a right to her, when they both knew that in the end, he was just going to push her away.

He groaned, bending his head so that his forehead pressed up against her hair. What the fuck was wrong with him?

He sat up, intending to go into the living room for his phone. He needed to check in with the team. Start from scratch. Figure a new way to find the bitch because Brandy deserved more than hiding. She deserved answers. Closure. And he needed to do that for her.

He swung his legs over the side of the bed and was about to stand when he heard a creak. He froze, listening. Another one. Soft, barely noticeable. But he noticed.

Her eyes widened, and he pressed a finger to her lips then shook his head. Now the eyes were wide with fear.

“Moan,” he whispered.

Her brows formed a V, a silent question mark.

He leaned in, his lips brushing her ear. “Moan like I’m deep inside you. Three, four times. Make it sound good. Hell, make the bed squeak. Then hide. Get under the bed.”

Ronan. The word wasn’t even a whisper, but he pressed his fingers to her lips, quieting her, then shook his head. He mouthed a single word. Now.

She nodded, her eyes wide with fear, but she did as he asked, throwing her head back and moaning as if they were making love. Dear God, he wished they were.

He used the sound for cover as he grabbed his gun off the bedside table and moved to the door. He listened, cracked it open, then moved into the living room as Brandy cried out, “Yes, oh, God, Ronan, yes.”

He moved around the perimeter, still naked but not willing to take the time to put anything on.

Slowly—carefully—he moved through the house, checking everywhere even after Brandy’s moans stopped. He hoped she’d slid under the bed as he’d instructed, though he was beginning to think it wasn’t necessary. He’d seen no evidence of anyone else in the house. Perhaps it was just the creaking of the building’s bones. A natural settling of the foundation.

He was about to turn on the lights and tell her she could come out when he heard the low whisper of his name.

He whipped around. She was there. Standing in the living room in front of the couch in the bathrobe she’d brought from the hotel. There was a mirror behind her mounted on the wall, and he saw his own expression of surprise because standing there behind him and reflected in the mirror was Brandy again, this Brandy wearing the familiar sweats and T-shirt.

The Brandy in front of him screamed, one hand flying to her mouth and the other staying in her pocket as she cried, “Behind you!”

The Brandy in the mirror took a step back, her hand rising, holding a gun. For a millisecond, fear cut through him. The double was going to shoot him in the back, then shoot Brandy, who stood in front of him, trembling in the robe.

He began to whirl toward the woman behind him, noting the way she took a step back. Then, with no warning, he spun back to the Brandy in the robe. Fired once and dropped her.

For a moment, cold fear rushed through him. What if he’d gotten it wrong?

He ran toward her, his heart pounding with fear, only relaxing when he’d ripped the mask off, revealing a woman he didn’t know. A woman with dark hair and wide, surprised eyes. Dead, one hand still in her pocket holding a gun. He turned and ran behind him, finding his Brandy on the floor, hugging her knees. She looked up at him, her eyes wild and terrified. “How did you know? How did you know which one was the real me?”

“You were holding a Ruger,” he said. “A woman like that would never carry a .22. Plus, her fingernails,” he added. “And baby, she’s nowhere near as pretty as you.”

He bent in front of her and pulled her close, holding her as she sobbed against him. “Why did you leave the bedroom? I told you to stay.”

“You texted me. You told me to come out.”

He almost kicked himself. He’d left his phone in the living room. How the hell the double had managed to unlock it, he didn’t know, but she’d texted Brandy, using him as bait.

“Fucking bitch.”

“Is it over?”

“Yeah, angel. It’s done. She wanted to set you up for Mr. Big’s murder. But you’re in the clear now.”