Your podcast interview about Mary Louise is getting a lot of hits.”
“Really?” I asked, stirring my ice cream in a clockwise motion.
Kurt Michaels was smart, charming, and handsome. He told dad jokes and wore sexy cardigans and hot nerd glasses. Total dad material. Unlike some others who were just “daddy” material.
He held my hand. He opened doors for me. He listened carefully. He took an interest in things that were important to me, like Mary Louise’s case. And on our previous two dates, I had never once felt the need to fake an emergency or climb out a bathroom window. Also, he bore a striking resemblance to Michael B. Jordan.
But this was our third date, and I was having heart palpitations over the idea of sex. Not the good kind either. It wasn’t that I assumed Kurt was going to be bad in bed. I’d scoped out his dance moves from the Christmas concert video on the school’s Facebook page. The man knew how hips worked. Plus, we’d shared two perfectly pleasant kisses at the end of each previous date.
But I knew deep down—in the vagina region—that Lucian Rollins had ruined me. And I wasn’t mentally ready to accept just how badly.
Kurt’s dark, smooth hand reached across the table and squeezed mine. I jumped.
“Sloane,” he said expectantly.
“What?” I tried to remember if he’d asked me a question.
“I get the feeling that you’re somewhere else. Possibly with someone else?”
I winced, my single-girl-on-a-hot-date facade crumbling like a toy block tower. “It’s not exactly like that. I really like you,” I insisted.
“I’m pretty likable,” he agreed amicably.
“You’d make a great husband and father. And you don’t have any obvious red flags or impossible-to-overcome emotional baggage.”
He flashed me one of those sexy smiles. “What can I say? I’m a catch. Why don’t you skip ahead to the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ part?”
I groaned and stared at the half-eaten cup of rocky road. “I know everyone says this, but in this case, it’s true. It really isn’t you. It’s all me.”
He cocked his head like the hella-good listener he was. “You have feelings for someone else,” he stated.
“How did you—never mind. It’s not those kinds of feelings. More like I’m filled with rage and annoyance and frustration toward someone else. But also, seriously, how did you know?”
He blew out a breath. “I’m getting over someone else too. Or trying. She wasn’t ready for a relationship. So I’m attempting to move on.”
“Same, dude,” I admitted, slumping in my chair with relief. “Except I don’t want to get over him. I want to exorcise him. If never seeing him again isn’t an option, then I want to figure out a way to feel nothing.”
“That sounds like there are some very strong feelings still in play,” Kurt observed.
“Homicidal feelings,” I insisted. “He’s all wrong for me. He wants nothing I want. Hell, he doesn’t even want me. And I don’t even want him. We just have this physical connection that… And I shouldn’t be talking about this on a date with another man.”
He shrugged. “Maybe you just need some kind of closure before you can move on.”
“Believe me. I got all the closure any normal, sane person would need. But there’s this dumb sliver of idiotic romantic in me that wonders how a physical attraction can be so powerful, so good, when the rest is just hot garbage.” I winced. “Sorry. Tell me about your situation before I humiliate myself further.”
Kurt grimaced. “You might feel homicidal toward me if I tell you.”
I perked up. “Trust me. You can’t be any worse than I am.”
“You’re going to regret saying that,” he predicted.
He looked so earnest and concerned.
“This is going nowhere between us, right?” I confirmed.
“Unfortunately, that’s how it appears,” he agreed.
“Okay then. This should make you feel better. I ran into the guy I was seeing on our first date at Honky Tonk. He stupidly asked me to come back to his place, even though he made it clear he wanted nothing to do with me besides sex. Like a hormonal tramp, I stupidly let him get too close, ran a couple of bases with him in the hallway on our date, then told him to never speak to me again.”
He leaned back in his chair. “That actually does make me feel better.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Really? Lay it on me. It can’t be worse than my confession.” Feeling relieved and unburdened, I shoved a heaping spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.
“I’m in love with your sister.”
I choked on my rocky road, unprepared for the whammy. “Excuse me?” I rasped.
“Here,” he said, pushing a glass of water toward me. “You can drink it or throw it in my face.”
“Maeve?” I rasped.
He nodded, then swiped his hand over his face. “It started last summer. We met at the end of school assembly, hit it off, then had a summer fling. It was just supposed to be fun. She was busy. I’d just landed a job here. Obviously it was a terrible idea. She’s the mother of one of my students.”
“I can’t believe it,” I said.
“I know. I’m a monster,” he said.
“No! That you two were able to keep a secret like that in Knockemout.”
“You’re not mad?”
I shook my head. “I’m impressed. Keeping secrets in Knockemout is like training an army of cats to do your bidding. It’s just not possible. So why did you let my friends hook us up?”
He looked sheepish. “Part of me—a pathetic part—thought that if Maeve didn’t want to be with me, at least I could stay in her life. The incredibly stupid part of me thought maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world if Maeve was a little…jealous.”
“Wow.”
“I’m not proud of it. And I was going to tell you tonight that I wasn’t over Maeve, right after I told you I wasn’t going to be able to have sex with you.”
“I wore granny underwear and didn’t shave my legs,” I confessed.
He grinned.
We were still laughing when we entered the parking lot ten minutes later. It was dark, and I’d chosen the café in Lawlerville to avoid another potential run-in with Lucian in Knockemout.
“So what are we going to do?” I asked him.
“Well, the obvious hijinks choice would be to fake date each other until our exes are overcome with jealousy. But seeing as how we’re adults and I’d hate to do any damage to your relationship with your sister, maybe we should go with option B.”
“Friends?”
“Friends,” he agreed. “You know, I really wanted to be there for Maeve when your dad passed. I tried reaching out a couple of times. But she made it clear it was something she wanted to deal with alone.”
“She pushed you away. I’m familiar with that feeling,” I said.
Kurt nudged my shoulder as we approached my Jeep. “For what it’s worth, Lucian is a simpleton if he doesn’t recognize his feelings for you.”
My feet skidded to a halt on the asphalt. “How did you know—”
“Knockemout doesn’t keep secrets. I saw the way he looked at you when we walked into Honky Tonk. That’s not nothing. And it sure isn’t hate.”
The moon was rising behind him. The trees had thousands of buds. Spring was coming. New beginnings. But all I could think about was the most recent ending.
“I had a really good time tonight,” I told Kurt.
“I did too.”
I rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
He wrapped me in a warm hug. He was going to make an excellent brother-in-law someday, I decided.
“Maybe we can make one of those pacts where if we’re not married by the time we’re fifty, we’ll take the plunge.”
I grinned. “Sounds like a plan to me.”
I got in my Jeep and watched him cross the parking lot to his car. I waited until he pulled out before grabbing my phone and opening my texts. Maeve and I were in for a very interesting conversation.
I yelped when my door was yanked open. A big, gloved fist gripped my sweater and pinned me to my seat. Another one covered my mouth, muffling my scream.
I couldn’t breathe. My attacker had sealed his hand over my mouth, and one of his fingers covered my nostrils. I immediately felt dizzy with panic as I stared at the black ski mask where a face should be. What did he want? Money? My Jeep? I hoped it wasn’t me.
I flailed against his grip and opened my mouth.
“Stop trying to bite me,” my attacker complained. “I got a message for you.”
Adrenaline dumped into my system. My free hand dove into my tote, feeling around for my pepper spray while I tried to memorize important details. Height? Taller than me. Weight? How the hell should I know? He was dressed all in black, and the dashboard light did nothing to illuminate any details. Was he familiar? Did I recognize his voice? His smell?
Was that cinnamon? Was my attacker chewing gum?
“Leave Upshaw where she belongs,” the man said.
“Mary Louise?” My words were smothered by the thick glove. This wasn’t a random mugging or carjacking. Someone had followed me here and waited for me.
“Leave it alone or you will get hurt,” he said.
Then the hand on my chest disappeared for a second before returning to slap something that sounded like paper over my heart.
“This is your final warning. Heed it. Please.”
It sounded like a genuine plea. Was it possible that my assailant didn’t actually want to hurt me? Or maybe I was hallucinating. The lack of oxygen and the blood thundering in my ears could be distorting everything.
Then he was gone just as suddenly as he’d appeared.
This was too many whammies in one night.
With shaking hands, I reached for the door handle and yanked it shut. It took me four tries to find and press the lock button. By the time I had, my attacker was nowhere to be seen.
With shaking hands, I found my phone on the floor and dialed.
“N-Nash?”
I wasn’t a nail biter, but I’d nibbled my way through my left hand and was about to start on the right.
On the surface, Nash looked calm, but his leg was bouncing under the table. After giving my statement to the Lawlerville police, I had begged Nash to take me to see Mary Louise. I had an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach.
He’d put up a fight, seeing as how I was ready to disobey direct orders from an anonymous bad guy. But I needed to see with my own eyes that she was okay, and Nash wasn’t ready to let me out of his sight.
“Are all prisons this awful?” I asked Nash.
He glanced around at the cracked ceiling tiles, the flickering fluorescent lights, the peeling vinyl floor. “No. The place Tina Witt’s in looks like a country club in comparison.”
I frowned. “What’s the difference?”
“This place is privately owned. Which means the owners can funnel the profits into their bank accounts. There’s no real incentive to improve the facilities if you get to pocket what’s left over after expenses.”
The door opened, and I jumped out of my chair. Mary Louise entered.
“Oh my God. Are you okay?”
Her face was bruised and swollen, and her left arm was cradled against her chest in a sling. But what made it all worse was the fear in her eyes.
I wanted to hug her, but she looked as if she were about to collapse in on herself. “Do you need a doctor?”
“I’m fine,” she assured me.
“What happened?” Nash asked.
“A little altercation in the cafeteria,” she said dully. “It happens.”
“We need to get you out of here. I’m calling Fran,” I decided.
“Don’t,” Mary Louise said, her voice suddenly sharp. She shook her head. “No more calls. No more petitions. No more meetings. I’m done.”
“What are you saying?” I whispered, sinking back into my chair.
“Did someone threaten you, Mary Louise?” Nash asked.
Her gaze shifted to the door. “I’m saying it’s best for everyone if I serve out the rest of my sentence.”
“No,” I said firmly. “We’re so close, Mary Louise. Don’t you want to see Allen graduate?”
She shook her head again, tears welling in her eyes. “It was foolish of me to hope. There are better ways for you to spend your money. Other people you can help. I can do another nine years.”
She said it like she was trying to convince herself.
I looked at Nash with desperation.
But he shook his head at me, his eyes all cop.
“Listen to me, Mary Louise,” I tried again. “We’ll figure this out. I’ll do whatever I can to keep you safe. Just don’t make any decisions yet until I see what I can do.”
“You don’t understand. I need to stay here. I need you to stop helping.”
“We can’t just leave her in there,” I said, jogging to keep up with Nash as we headed toward his SUV.
“Just let me think, Sloaney.”
“She’s obviously being threatened. Someone attacked her, and now all of a sudden, she doesn’t want us to help?”
“I know. Calm down and shut up so I can think.”
“We don’t have time to think!”
Nash stopped, and I ran into his broad back. He turned to face me. “Honey, I know. But you need to understand, you getting attacked the same day that Mary Louise gets jumped is not a coincidence. They might be focusing their threats on the two of you, but that doesn’t mean you’re the only two targets.”
“Allen,” I said, realization dawning.
He nodded. “And Lina. And Naomi. And Maeve. And anyone else involved in this case.”
I closed my eyes. “Damn it. She’d never risk Allen, let alone anyone else.”
“You call Fran,” Nash said, unlocking the doors and pulling out his phone.
“Who are you calling?” I demanded.
He looked me dead in the eyes. “Who do you think?”
“What the hell is Lucian going to do?”
“He’s the only one I can think of with the strings to pull to get her and Allen the protection they need immediately.”
He was right.
I put my hand on his arm. “Don’t tell him about me. Please.”
“Sloane, you’re in fucking danger. You were threatened tonight.”
“I am aware, Chief. But it’s none of his damn business. Besides, I have you. Lucian needs to focus his evil powers on protecting Mary Louise and Allen.”
