Page 35 of His Sinner

I text Zayden.

What can you tell me about the owners of black BMWs in Auburn?

He doesn’t respond right away. An email is a welcome distraction from the waiting game until I realize the sender is a literary agent I queried a few days ago.

Dear Mr. Nicholson,

Thank you so much for querying me on DRESSED TO KILL. Unfortunately, I don't believe I'm the appropriate agent to represent your work, as the project isn't quite the right fit for me. I wish you the very best in finding the right representation for your work.

Rejection is inevitable in this business. Even as a bestselling author of four books, I’m not immune. Sure, more agents and publishers are likely to see a book with my name on it as a money grab than before I was published, but art is subjective and not everyone has acquired a taste for the macabre, darkly romantic Gothic horror novels I pen.

Still, every rejection stings. An ounce of panic zips down my spine at the possibility that this is the end of the road. That I’ll only ever publish four books and that the novel I wrote specifically for Briar will never be on her shelf.

My phone buzzes with a text from Zayden.

I’ll see what I can find.

The alarm on my phone blares. The sleuthing will have to wait.

I’m outside Briar’s classroom when she finally exits after all of her students. She smirks at me but doesn’t touch me. Not when there are witnesses.

“Did you send any queries?” she asks while we make our way to the parking lot.

Winter is at last transitioning to spring, students shedding their thick coats and fleece-lined pants for cardigans and leggings. Briar is absolutely radiant in the spring sun.

“A few.”

“What’s wrong?” Her blue irises examine me, searching for the answers in my features.

“What makes you think something is wrong?”

“Because I know you. Like you know me.” She stops to rub at the space between my brows. “You get a crease here.” Her finger drifts to the corner of my mouth. “Your lips dip here.” She spots her Honda, poking me in the ribs before continuing her trek across the parking lot. “You can’t hide from me either.”

My chest squeezes. She’s the most incredible woman I’ve ever met. No one has ever loved me like her.

Because I’m certain of it now.

Briar Shea loves me.

“So when are you going to finally admit that you love?—”

She gasps.

Her driver’s side window has been smashed, broken glass lining the edges, a few pieces glinting on the pavement and more scattered across her driver's seat and floor.

My hands curl into fists. Whoever this monster is, I need to eliminate him. Or her. I can’t let this go on a second longer.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Briar clutches her key in her fist like a dagger. If the assailant were here, I have no doubt she would be stabbing his eye out.

“Stand back. I’ll clean this up. I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Don’t bother.” She tugs on my arm and marches me back toward campus. “Come on. We’re breaking and entering.”

“Where are we breaking into?”

“The security office. They have cameras all over this campus. They must have surveillance footage of the parking lot. If we can hack into it, maybe we can figure out who vandalized my car.”

“Can’t you ask someone to let you in?”

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