Page 25 of Devil’s Snare

“So you never killed anyone?”

Well, this was a conversation I didn’t think we’d have so soon. “Not the way you’re thinking.”

“What does that mean?”

“Never murdered anyone in cold blood.” I cracked my neck, feeling a little on edge. “Can’t say I haven’t done things that needed to be done to protect those I care about.”

She didn’t appear surprised. “I suppose that’s common as a biker, huh?”

“Sometimes,” I admitted, not able to tell how she felt about it. Her emotions got a little too mashed together to tell them apart.

Shit got complicated in a club, especially as one-percenters, but I didn’t reveal that. Vengeance and justice didn’t count. I did what I had to do.

“You gonna tell me who’s been buzzing in your pretty ears?”

Her eyes darkened. “You promise not to do anything stupid?”

I chuckled. She really didn’t know me yet. “No.”

“I guess I should be happy you’re being honest.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. Because I wasn’t gonna lie to her. Not about something like this. To protect her? To protect my club? I’d lie without hesitation—hazards of being in a one-percenter MC.

I didn’t fucking lie just to do it.

“I went to the police station to ask about my sister’s case.”

No surprise there. “Alone?”

“No. Ethan went with me.”

Her brother. I figured. “And?”

“Det. Castor is handling my case with an NCIS agent.”

Fuck. “Who?”

“Nate Barnes.”

Chapter 7 Gwen

“Nate Barnes.”

As soon as I said the name, something flared in Cin’s green eyes. And it wasn’t good.

If I knew him well enough, I could say if it was recognition, frustration, anger, or suspicion. The sad thing was that I didn’t know this man well at all. We met a few days ago. I couldn’t even say his last name, favorite food, or anything significant about him.

But that didn’t seem to matter. Not to my traitorous body. I reacted to him like we’d known one another for years. Like my soul had met his in another life.

Ridiculous. A fairytale dream. That wasn’t reality.

“What did they say to you?” Cin growled, the sound both sexy and disturbing at the same time.

That was a perfect example of how he created havoc inside me. How need and want clashed with uncertainty and fear. Yeah, he scared me a little. Did I think he’d ever hurt me? No. But he’d leave bruises and marks on my body, just so he could see them on my skin and lap at them later with his tongue.

Why was that so freaking hot?

And that wasn’t the only reason. He made me feel things that I never had before. Thoughts of all the ways he could take and pin me down, forcing me to do what he wanted. Carnal, wild things that left me breathless under my covers at night when he wasn’t there.