Page 18 of Deadly Sins

The man’s eyes darted between Kate and Fenn. She could see the calculation in his gaze. He was weighing his options, trying to decide whether to fight or flee.

But before he could make a move, Fenn was on him, his knee pressed into the man’s back as he wrenched his arms behind him. The man let out a yelp of pain, his face contorting in agony.

“Talk,” Fenn growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Or I’ll make sure you never walk again.”

The man’s resistance crumbled, and he sagged against the ground, his voice coming out in a whimper. “Okay, okay. Ease up. Just don’t hurt me anymore.”

Kate’s eyes never left the man’s face. “Start talking. And don’t leave anything out.”

12

“What is with you?”Kate demanded of Fenn. “Since when do you throw punches?”

She faced him down, her stomach churning with a mix of frustration and betrayal. The icy wind whipped through the road, biting at her exposed skin, but she barely noticed.

Fenn held up his hands in surrender, his expression a mix of guilt and determination. “I was doing a little recon. It got out of control.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a broken piece of plastic about four inches long. “I picked this up after that snowmobile attack. I wanted to see if it matched any of the rigs at this guy’s house, but it didn’t.”

Kate’s anger flared hotter. “And you didn’t think to tell me this earlier?”

Fenn had the decency to look guilty, his shoulders slumping slightly under the weight of her accusation. “I know. Not cool. I’m sorry.”

Kate shook her head, the frustration and disappointment welling up inside her like a physical force. “What if you’d walked into a trap? I had no idea where you were.”

All true, but the weight of her own secrets pressed down on her.

Fenn nodded, his expression serious. “You’re right. I’d be mad if you had run off on your own.” He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching her face. “But you’re hiding something too, and it’s way bigger.”

Woof. A serious understatement.

“I won’t hold anything back either. Not going forward. But my past … that’s mine alone.” The words felt heavy on her tongue. She’d have to tell him––tell the whole team––eventually, but she couldn’t imagine doing it now.

Once she confessed to Fenn, she’d be worse than alone out here. She’d be shunned.

Fenn looked like he wanted to argue, but he simply nodded. “Fair enough.”

The man at their feet began to stir, groaning as he struggled to sit up. Kate and Fenn exchanged a glance, and Fenn hauled the man to his feet, pinning him against the wall with a forceful shove.

“Why did you attack us on the snowmobile?” Fenn demanded, his voice low and menacing.

The man looked confused, his eyes darting between the two of them with a mix of fear and uncertainty. “Snowmobile? What are you talking about?”

Kate stepped forward, her eyes narrowing as she studied the man’s face. “You know, the one you or one of your buddies tried to run me down with last night.”

The man shook his head vehemently, his voice rising in pitch as he spoke. “No, no, you’ve got it all wrong. I was just coming to talk to you about the fight at the tavern. I wanted to apologize.”

Fenn and Kate exchanged a skeptical look, their brows furrowed in disbelief. “Then why did you attack Fenn just now?” she asked, her voice sharp and accusatory.

The man looked sheepish, his gaze dropping to the ground. “Didn’t know who it was. I thought he was following me. My roomie Wade’s been…” He paused, eyes still wild. “He stirred up some trouble a couple days ago with some guys from the base. I thought you were one of them. I panicked. I’m sorry.” He thrust out a gloved hand. “I’m Lester Crowley, by the way.”

Fenn released his grip on the man, stepping back as Kate studied him closely. He seemed genuinely confused and apologetic, his posture slumped and defeated.

Fenn stuck out his own hand. “Fenn Scarborough, and this is––”

The man waved him off. “I know who you two are. You came with that team. Everybody’s been talking about you since you all landed.” He trembled and tugged his fur-lined hood back over his head. “We best continue this inside,” he insisted and slipped his mask back up over his face.

They followed Crowley into his house, the stench of stale beer and unwashed laundry assaulting their nostrils as they stepped inside. The décor was a mix of mismatched furniture, empty pizza boxes, and discarded beer cans, the epitome of a grimy bachelor pad.