Page 185 of Fly's Path

I turn and find a beast of a man standing right next to me.

He’s not a resident of Beach Haven, and dressed in that suit, he definitely isn’t a tourist. Alarm bells go off in my brain.

Lie.

Except he knew my name. “Yes, can I help you?”

“You’ll be coming with me.” He opens the door next to him and shoves me in before I can take a breath to scream.

Classic Car

Fly

Sheridan hasn’t moved in a few hours.

I stare at the tracking app like she’ll magically jump out of my phone if I think about her hard enough. Getting on the plane knowing she was in Beach Haven almost made me lose my mind.

That little dot hasn’t moved for hours. What could she possibly be doing?

You’re just a few minutes out.

It’s a small town. A very small town. Strangers will stick out like a sore thumb.

She’s fine.

Everything is fine.

She ran from me.

She ran without a word after realizing that she loves me.

She ran back to the family who might hurt her…If they hurt her…

Stop. She’s fine. Sheri’s on the main street, probably talking to a friend that she hasn’t seen in a few weeks.

I might kill Vex. Why didn’t he stop her from running?

Because you don’t force a woman to do something. They aren’t a piece of livestock. But Vex doesn’t have all those social niceties. He shouldn’t have a problem locking a woman in his house for an hour until I got there and kissed some sense into her.

That’s what I’ll do, just kiss her until she realizes we were meant for each other.

This main street has all the beachy, small-town vibes. I pull into a parking spot like a hundred feet from her location. Time to find Sheri.

Is she going to be happy to see me or mad?

We’ll figure that out after I kiss her dizzy.

My rocker might not have been the best outfit choice based on the intensity of stares and outright glares I’m receiving as I walk down the street. It also wasn’t the best idea to wear a long-sleeve Henley in this heat and humidity. Did someone forget to turn off the sauna around here?

How does Sheri stand it here?

The dot says it’s right here, but there isn’t anyone right here. The only things around are an empty ice cream shop and a beat-up clunker that should have been junked a decade or more ago. The tracker says Sheri’s right here.

Could that be her car?

I don’t like where my mind is going right now, because the owner of that car either has a hoarding problem or they’re living in their car. Based on the partially used roll of toilet paper and garbage bag full of clothes, I guess living in it.

“Excuse me, young man.” A little old lady walks up to me. “That isn’t your car.”