“Remember what I said about telling anyone about this,” he says, pushing to his feet. His clothes are black, his boots clunky, and there’s a degree of savagery behind his eyes that I don’t remember seeing that night in New York City.
Without another word, he stalks from the room, and I collapse against the bed as apprehension breathes through my pores. My tongue shifts, curling around something foreign that wasn’t there seconds ago.
A peppermint.
24
“You’re sure they can’t come any sooner?”
I wipe condensation from the bathroom mirror, glaring at myself when a hole appears. Phone pressed to my ear, I’m dripping on the tile in my post-shower haze, trying to figure out if last night was real or not.
When I woke up, the only evidence was the stain of vomit on the floor, which looked as if it’d been scrubbed—but I can’t remember doing it.
In fact, the last thing I remember is tasting peppermint, but this morning, there was no sticky candy residue left in my mouth.
Not to mention, I had on an oversized Metallica T-shirt, which I definitely wasn’t wearing around Aiden.
I’ve gone most of the day walking on eggshells, afraid to leave the cabin on the off chance my memory is simply failing me again. Every closed door has been cautiously opened, every light left on, and every door locked tight.
If he is here in Lunar Cove, I’m not going to make his access to me easy.
On that same note, if last night wasn’t a dream… wouldn’t he have already been back?
Grasping on to that hope, I reach for the bottle of lotion on my sink, squirting some into my hands as Kal’s voice comes over the line again.
“Apparently, a wildfire in the area is messing with cell towers and power grids, so the security company is prioritizing house visits based on urgency. You’re pretty low on the list.” A pause, and then he clears his throat. “Right? You are still low on the list?”
My mouth opens to say no, no, I’m not. That the person I wasn’t really hiding from has somehow found me, and something tells me this turn of events is worse than if the people related to my attacker had shown up instead.
The attackers would probably make their revenge quick; I’d either be dead or so drugged up that I’d feel dead before I even had time to process their arrival.
Aiden, on the other hand, seems like the kind to take his time.
His threat rings out like a gong, echoing in my mind as I nod to myself, sticking to my convictions—stupid and risky as they may be—not to tell Kal.
“Yeah, I’m still low urgency,” I say, the lie bitter on my tongue. It tastes like betrayal, though I’m not sure whose back the knife is stuck in. “Did they give you an ETA, at least?”
“Shouldn’t be any later than the weekend. If not, I’m liable to fly out to Maine and force your brother to come install the shit himself.”
A small, sad smile creases my lips. “Please. Camera installation is beneath him.”
“Neglecting his sister because of some long-winded pity party is beneath him,” Kal says, and I can practically hear his eyes roll.
His observation stings, and I smooth the lotion in my hands down over my thighs, keeping the phone pressed between my ear and shoulder. “Yeah, well. You can blame our mom for that.”
“I could, but eventually everyone comes to a point in their lives where they have to own up to their shortcomings. Our experiences are meant to mold, not define us.”
“You should put that on a T-shirt.”
“Maybe I’ll have one made and sent out to you as a Christmas gift.”
Warmth fills my chest like rays of sunshine, but it’s the kind that doesn’t quite reach your limbs because parts of you are stuck in the shadows.
I stand up straight, smoothing my hand over the scar on my hip. It still tingles from where Aiden crept dangerously close to it, and I blow out a breath, trying to erase the memory.
“You’re sure everything is okay? You don’t usually call right after I’ve been to visit.”
Chewing on my bottom lip, I nod again, even though he can’t see me. My heart throbs inside my chest, painfully aware that my brother should be the one asking this, but once again, a day has gone by without us speaking.
“Yes, dad. Maybe I just missed that sparkling personality of yours.”
Kal gives a short half chuckle—as close to a genuine laugh as I’ll probably ever get from him. “I’ll let you know when the security guys update me. Text if you need me before then.”
When we hang up, I stare at myself in the mirror for a long moment, reveling in the irony of me having asked one of the most notorious men on the East Coast for help years ago, and how he’s turned into more of a brother to me than my biological sibling.
I’m not sure what it means—probably nothing.
But if a man like that can be reformed, it gives me hope for Boyd.
Sighing, I grab my robe from where it hangs on the back of the bathroom door, my abs tensing as I reenter the bedroom. Pausing at the threshold, my eyes dart from wall to wall, taking stock and ensuring everything is in its proper place.
Mainly, I’m checking to make sure there are no crazy rock stars hiding out where I can’t see.
Satisfied with the lack of psychos, my shoulders slump slightly, and I walk over to the nightstand, crouching down to undo the drawer at the bottom. A simple combination lock keeps it secure, and I scroll through each set of numbers until it pops free.
The pistol Boyd gave me before my move sits inside, collecting dust from never having been used; it’s been locked in the nightstand for three years, the need for protection beyond the basics never having risen before.
Dream or not, I don’t want to take that chance anymore.
The weapon is heavy in my hand as I pull it out, and unease snakes along my spine, burrowing in each divot there.
Cold metal cools my skin as I turn it over, trying to remember the safety tips my brother gave when he shoved it in my suitcase.
“Keep the safety locked at all times. The presence of a gun alone is often enough to subdue an attacker; don’t kill yourself in return.”
“Aim to kill if you ever need to turn off the safety. You’re not a cop. Do what you have to.”
“Once it’s out, don’t ever take your eyes off of it.”
That last comment sticks with me most, though not for the reason Boyd probably hoped. I walk to the full-length mirror across the room, so focused on the weapon that I don’t even notice when someone steps up behind me.
It’s stupid, really.
I should know better.
Just because you think you’re alone doesn’t make it so.
A sigh washes over my hair, and I grit my teeth.
Lifting my gaze in the mirror, I try to ignore the sudden racing of my heart at his proximity.
Looming over me, his front doesn’t quite touch my back, but his presence scalds my skin all the same. A finger comes up, tracing the curve of my hip as gray eyes flash, zeroing in on the gun.
“Do you even know how to use one of these?” he asks, and I hate the flurry of butterflies his rasp sends through me.
My jaw clenches, and I clasp the neckline of my robe together with my free hand. “It’s not rocket science.”
“No, but it is a little predictable. Woman gets a stalker, thinks she can intimidate him with a firearm. You know how those movies go.”