Page 17 of Love You To Pieces

I expect to find at least one other man from the truck, ready to rip me apart for killing his friend. Pearl appears at my side, growling, though it sounds more uncertain rather than fully aggressive.

But the men standing a few yards away, one of them leaning against the door of a large truck, aren’t the ones from before. One of them I know I don’t recognize, but the other...

I know him.

I’m sure I’ve seen him before, though my brain is taking its damn time processing where I know him from.

“Y-you’re the sheriff!” I gasp suddenly, relief flooding me and making my knees go weak. When my grip on the chainsaw slackens, it tilts forward, the blade resting against the gravel beneath me. “Holy fuck. How did you know—?” I shake my head, deciding that for this moment, at least, that doesn’t matter.

I’m saved.

CHAPTER SIX

Normal people would probably drop the chainsaw, I realize belatedly. But my buddy and I have already been through so much that it’s still tightly clamped in my hand, and my fingers are unwilling to open to drop it to the ground.

When Pearl lets out another uncertain noise, I lay my hand absently on her head, making sure to miss her torn-up ear as the sheriff and his companion watch me with the same amount of confusion I’ve been feeling since I woke up.

“Who…?” The stranger glances at the sheriff and runs his fingers through his curly, tousled blond hair. “You didn’t tell me there was a girl.”

“Yeah, I didn’t because there isn’t one. Not with them,” the sheriff shoots back. But he’s watching me, observing, and I can’t help but feel his gaze zeroing in on the blood and the chainsaw. It almost makes me self-conscious. And I almost drop my chainsaw. “I remember you,” he says after a moment. “You’re the girl from the gas station in town.”

“Yeah. Yep. The uh, the one who has—had—the really shitty friends.” My voice breaks on the correction, which causes the sheriff to tilt his head. “I don’t know what happened. I don’t know…” I trail off and when I run my fingers through my hair without thinking, I can feel how it’s dried with the blood and gore from the man downstairs in it.

Disgusting.

“No, I do know. Umm.” I close my eyes hard for a second, take a breath, and open them again. “My friends and I were taken.” My legs feel locked, and I don’t close the distance between me and safety, though I glance back over my shoulder, as if the man I killed is going to reanimate and come after me.

Which, all things considered, would be the craziest thing to happen to me today.

“Maybe last night? I’m not sure. I was knocked out, and I woke up to—” Fuck, I’m not sure how to finish that statement.

The two men watch me, waiting, before the sheriff sighs and adjusts the cap on his head, turning it around to face the wrong way. Dressed in his uniform, he looks like a mix of authority and like he’s about to step into a photoshoot for the Rural Sheriffs Charity Calendar. “Could you, uh, maybe drop the chainsaw?” he asks finally. “You know what you look like, right?”

I glance down at the chainsaw, my fingers still holding tight as if they’re welded to the handle. “Do I look feral with good ol’ Sally here?” I ask slowly, my voice tired. “The name is a work in progress, by the way. I’m not sure what I want to call it. But this is my emotional support chainsaw, and I’d really like to not let go.”

“I say let her keep it,” his companion remarks, his voice quieter, though with the same accent and even more of a soft drawl that makes me want to lean closer and hang on every word. “Feral, actually.” He flashes a sly grin in my direction, and his blue eyes are full of something I can’t read.

Before I can do more than take a step, the reality of the situation slams back into me. Relief still sits in my stomach, though it causes a mix of lightheadedness and exhaustion to surge through my veins in lieu of the adrenaline that’s kept me going so far. “Ariana,” I murmur, squeezing my eyes shut tight for just a moment. My hand goes back to Pearl as the dog leans against me, though I realize belatedly her eyes never leave the two men.

“H-hey. My friend is down there still. She needs help. She’s…she’s not doing well,” I explain quickly, trying to keep my words straight. “I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t get her out and carry this, plus I thought there were others. There were others,” I correct. “But I thought they were still here. After I killed the first guy down there, I⁠—”

“You killed someone?” The blond’s brows disappear under his curls and he lets loose a low whistle. “Feral.” He shakes his head, seemingly unbothered by the rest of my statement. “I’ll go take care of it.” He trades a look with the sheriff, and whatever communication passes between them, I can’t read. “I’ll go find this guy you killed, and this friend⁠—”

I don’t mean to, but when he walks by me, my disgusting, bloody, raw hand reaches out and I grab his wrist hard enough that my knuckles ache. But he doesn’t push me off.

His sky-blue eyes, brighter than any I’ve ever seen, flick in my direction, and the initial warning there fades, though he looks from my hand to my face.

But the warning is mostly lost on me as I try to get my words together. “Ariana,” I murmur. “My friend’s name is Ariana. She said…” I trail off, not sure how to articulate what she said.

Or why it’s important to me for him to know.

“What did your friend say?” His voice is surprisingly gentle, though Pearl apparently doesn’t think that’s a positive thing, judging by the way she gives a soft grumble low in her throat and glues herself more tightly to my side. The man barely spares her a look, and it’s only to roll his eyes at the dog like she’s a known inconvenience, rather than a true danger.

Swallowing back bile, I drop his arm, still holding his gaze. “She’s in a lot of pain,” I breathe. “And her eyes, her tongue, th-they’re gone.” Waiting for shock to show on his face, something settles deeper in my chest when it doesn’t come. Uneasiness travels through me, though I push it away, telling myself it’s simply leftover from my morning.

Of course I’m ill at ease and on edge. Who the hell wouldn’t be? I remind myself that this man has done nothing wrong, and if he’s with the sheriff of Wolf Lake, I doubt I’m in danger of anything except maybe being arrested for killing a man in self-defense with Sally.

“She told me to kill her. If she says that to you, then you can’t. Please.” My fingers tighten in the hem of my shirt, and I’m glad I released his arm before he could feel how I’m trembling. “She’ll be okay. We just need to get her to a doctor. She just⁠—”