Free Sterling by Dannika Dark Page A

sensation.” Remembering Adam’s sister, I didn’t want to give him nightmares. “Once it was done, it was okay. Your soul wants to go…somewhere. I wanted to hold on, too. But there was a familiarity to it. That’s all I remember, until I woke up in the body bag.”
    My arms wrapped around my waist. “I don’t know how or why I’m still here. He wasn’t normal; and somehow whatever he did changed me. I don’t think he meant to kill me; that’s the strange part. Do you think he made me this way on purpose?
    I stood there trying to remain stoic—I wanted to shut it off like a faucet and just not feel anything.
    Adam captured my hands and wrapped them around his body, pulling me against him. He cradled me and even with the uncertainty of knowing I could hurt him again, he held me with such devotion. I fell against his chest and closed my eyes.
    Adam wiped strands of my hair away from my forehead.
    “Zoë, you can stop being a tough bitch now. Cry if you need to.”
    “I don’t cry in front of people.”
    I was not a crier, especially in front of someone else because that was showing too much vulnerability, which I wasn’t willing to give anyone.
    “Would it make you feel better to know that I’m going to kill him?”
    The threat hung at the end of the conversation like a stinger on a bee. No more words were spoken, and we remained like that until I felt ready to let go.
     

Chapter 8
     
    It was just after dusk and Adam left the house to run some errands . Earning my keep became an important role, so after polishing the floor to a solid shine, I tucked the mop back into its corner in the hall closet and looked up. There were three rows of high shelves. Adam put the stupid cleaners on the top shelf. Because I wanted to scrub out some of the grime that dripped to the bottom shelf in the fridge, I dragged one of the small kitchen chairs over and climbed up.
    Just as my fingers reached for the lemon scented cleaner, the metal legs slid across the wet floor and away from my feet.
    I grabbed one of the shelves and it snapped away from the wall sending all the contents spilling to the floor. Luckily, the metal toolkit broke my fall and I cringed as the top shelf items of batteries, nails and screws showered over me like shrapnel.
    When the last screw rolled to a stop, I looked around. What a mess.
    There was an unexpected knock at the front door.
    “Hold on!” I called out, thinking Adam forgot the keys to the house. I flicked a few nails that had stuck to my arm and cursed at the board on the floor that used to be a shelf. He’s going to kill me .
    More impatient knocking.
    “Okay I’m coming,” I said in annoyance. I winced when I stood up—my shoulder cried out and I kicked a few of the screws in the closet.
    When I swung the door open to apologize to Adam—before he even saw the catastrophe—my jaw hung silent.
    The gun show was in town and I was getting the private tour. Two giant biceps were swallowed up a sleeveless white shirt. I looked up at a steel expression, as if his skin had been pulled taut over thick jaw and broad cheekbones. Knox gave his greeting with a thin-lipped grin. He wore the same black cap snug to his head, and black hair peeked out around the edges.
    “I don’t think we were properly introduced,” he said without moving those folded arms. There was no attempt to shake my hand.
    Blocking the doorway with my body I blew out an agitated, “Can I help you?”
    He dropped his arms but his smile remained fixed. “I’m Knox. I’m an old friend of Raz—Adam. And you are?”
    My eyes arrowed to the shadow of a weapon beneath his shirt. “Is he expecting you?”
    “Is he around? I need to talk to him.”
    “He’s busy,” I lied. When I shouldered the door closed, his oversized boot wedged inside of the open space.
    Knox shook his head. “Adam isn’t here.”
    “How do you know? Because the only balls I see on you aren’t crystal.”
    Knox snorted and actually shifted his