Carter Reed

clung to me. I struggled to find the words. When my arm started to shake, he seemed to grow colder. His eyes darkened and anger stirred in them.
    “Who hurt you, Emma?” His voice was sensual, but there was an underlining tone of icy disdain.
    Fresh shivers wracked me. My eyes clasped shut. What had I done to him? I felt his hatred. It gutted me.
    “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what happened.”
    I choked out, “But maybe you’ll hurt me.”
    “I would never hurt you.”
    “Promise?” I held my breath. I was depending on him, everything centered on him. Mallory needed him. I needed him.
    “I promise.”
    Relief washed over me and I sagged in my chair. My throat choked up. Then I whispered, in a hoarse voice, “I did something.”
    He nodded.
    My insides tightened. I couldn’t say it. It’d be real, but I already had said it out loud. Still, Carter was different. Once he knew, I couldn’t undo whatever would happen next.
    “What did you do?” He softened his tone.
    He was persuading me now. He wanted me to confide in him. If only it were that easy. I could just open up and share my problems to him, but no. Was this the right decision? Could I trust him? I didn’t know him anymore. He was the Cold Killer. I hadn’t known that man from before. I only knew the boy he’d been.
    “Emma.”
    I looked at him. The tears blurred him in my vision.
    “I know you’re debating whether or not to tell me what happened, but if you’re here with me then I’m your only choice. I know you. I remember the smart girl you were. I was always proud of how you handled yourself. You were a survivor, all those years ago. I knew it then. I know it now.” He leaned forward. A glimmer of the old Carter shone through to me. “You have to tell me. I won’t hurt you. I’ve already promised you that.”
    I nodded. He was right. He was so right. He was the only one. But I couldn’t look at him. I hung my head and whispered, “I killed someone.”
    “Who?”
    There was no reaction. Just a question. The ball of fear in me loosened. “He was hurting my roommate.”
    “Who did you kill, Emma?”
    He said my name so that it felt like he was caressing me with it. I relaxed a bit more. It was easier to speak. “He was raping her when I went into the apartment.” Then, I closed up. I couldn’t say. He was the mob. Carter was the mob. Carter would hand me over.
    “Who was raping your roommate?”
    I shook my head again. “I can’t say it.”
    “You have to.” Gone was the softness. He had hardened again.
    I jerked back in my chair. The stranger sat across from me once more. Now I knew for sure, I had to get out of there. I tried to swallow over the knot of terror that was lodged in my throat again. I looked for the door. I could make it—there was a guard out there. My eyes swung back to Carter. I would have to stop him. He couldn’t alert the guard about me. But how? I had no idea.
    His phone rang from a room. He must’ve left it. When he turned, I bolted for the door. It was my only chance.
    He caught me around the waist. I made it to him, but that was as far as I got. As he picked me up with one iron-clad arm, he said over my struggles, “You’re being ridiculous, Emma.”
    I kicked harder. “Let me go!”
    “No.”
    My arm fought free and swung at him, but he deflected the blow and adjusted so he held both of my arms against my side. He carried me into a bedroom. I tried kicking backwards towards his groin, but he just grunted and moved his thigh so it was wedged between my legs. As I kicked again, he raised his leg higher so I was straddling him. My feet swung, but only touched air now. I was helpless so I used my last resort. My head went forward and then, as I bit my lip, I rammed it backwards.
    “Oomph.” He twisted to the side, a low chuckle sounded into my ear.
    “Agh!” I tried hitting my head to the side, but I didn’t have the angle to do any damage. “Carter! Let me go!”
    As he chuckled again, he sat down on the bed while he still held me in his arms. My back was pressed against him and he tightened his arms around me. One shifted up so he could use his shoulder to keep my head close to the side of his. I couldn’t do a thing. Then he murmured into my ear, his breath caressing me, “You’re still the fighter AJ raised. He’d be proud.”
    That sent another burst of fight through me. I tried wiggling, thrusting, but nothing. He sat and held me until I stopped. I had moved lower