Julius’s gaze found Naomi, concern etched across his handsome features. “You okay, cuz?”
Her eyes suddenly burned, and she blinked against the tears. “It’s been a hell of a day.”
Julius set the grocery bag down and moved toward her, arms open for a hug. She stepped into his embrace automatically, letting herself be enveloped in the familiar scent of pine and leather that had meant safety since childhood. His arms tightened around her, and for a moment, she allowed herself to lean into his strength.
“I saw the videos,” “I heard what happened,” he said, his voice rumbling against her cheek. “Ghost really went berserk and did a number on Mitch.”
The casual dismissal of Owen’s actions made her stiffen. “He wasn’t going berserk. He was responding to a threat. He was protecting me.”
“By assaulting a tribal officer in front of half the town?” Julius shook his head, his expression darkening. “That’s not protection, Naomi. That’s a man with control issues who clearly has a history of violence. You’ve heard the rumors about what he did before coming to Valor Ridge.”
“Rumors that aren’t true,” Naomi said, pulling away from his embrace. The warmth of his hug turned cold, and she rubbed her arms where he’d touched her.
Julius sighed and held up his hands. “Hey, I’m on your side here. I’m just worried about you. This guy shows up, and suddenly you’re in the middle of all this chaos.” He ran a hand through his dark hair. “First the abduction, now this. It’s like you keep inviting danger into your life.”
“I didn’t invite any of this,” Naomi snapped. The anger felt good—better than the guilt and fear that had been eating her alive all evening. “I’m trying to find answers about Mary Rose, about Leelee. About all the women who’ve disappeared.”
“And I respect that. I do.” Julius moved to the counter, reaching for the moonshine and three glasses Ava had set out. “But there are safer ways to go about it. Ways that don’t end with your boyfriend assaulting a tribal officer.”
“He’s not my—” Naomi began automatically, then stopped herself. What was Owen to her? Lover? Protector? Something more complicated that didn’t have a neat label?
Julius poured three fingers of clear liquid into each glass and handed one to her. “All I’m saying is, be careful. The company you keep says a lot about you. And that guy...” He shook his head. “He’s trouble, Naomi. The kind that gets people hurt.”
She accepted the glass but didn’t drink, the moonshine burning her nostrils as she inhaled. “You don’t know him.”
“I know men like him.” Julius’s voice hardened slightly, a flash of something cold crossing his face before it smoothed into concern again. “Dangerous men who think violence solves problems. Men who drag down everyone around them.”
Ava made a dismissive sound as she took her own glass. “Some problems need solving with teeth, not talk.”
“Not you too, Grandmother,” Julius groaned, but there was affection in his exasperation. He raised his glass. “To family. The only ones who’ll always have your back.”
Naomi lifted her glass but didn’t drink. The words felt hollow, a platitude that couldn’t begin to address the storm raging inside her. Family hadn’t saved Mary Rose. Family hadn’t protected Leelee. Family hadn’t kept her from being abducted and beaten.
Owen had saved her. Owen, who wasn’t family but had become something just as essential.
“Did you hear about Sampson Padilla?” she asked, setting her untouched glass on the coffee table. “He’s dead. Apparent suicide.”
Julius’s expression shifted, a flash of something—surprise? Concern?—crossing his features before settling into appropriate gravity. “Jesus. When?”
“Last night,” Naomi said, feeling strangely hollow as she formed the words. “Sheriff Goodwin says he left a note confessing to Leelee’s murder.”
Julius’s eyes widened. “A confession? That’s... unexpected.”
“It’s bullshit. Sampson wouldn’t hurt Leelee. He loved her like a daughter.”
Julius took a long sip of his moonshine, his throat working as he swallowed. “People aren’t always what they seem, cuz. You know that better than anyone.”
Something in his tone made her pause. She studied his face—the perfect composure, the practiced concern in his eyes.
Had he always been this... polished? This careful?
“Goodwin’s saying Sampson was mixed up with the cartel,” she continued, watching for his reaction. “That Leelee was collateral damage.”
Julius nodded slowly. “Makes sense. His shop was struggling. Eddie mentioned he’d been acting strange lately.”
“Since when do you talk to Eddie Padilla?”
“Small town.” He shrugged. “Our paths cross. Besides, I’ve been keeping tabs on the case. For you.”
