Page 50 of Love At Peace

“You’d think,” Gavin said. “Or maybe he’s just that much of an asshole to always want to make everyone else’s life hell no matter what.”

“What can she do?” I asked Marty. “I don’t want her to be scared off to move again. And even though she’ll never listen to me or care that I give a shit about her, what can I do to protect Nevaeh?”

Marty huffed. “Well, Nevaeh doesn’t seem to be in the mindset that she needs protection. I dropped her off at the station on Main after she got caught shoplifting, and I have no clue where she took off to. She’s got to be shacking up with David somewhere.”

“He’s got no record, man,” I reminded him. “He’s sneaky, but that can’t mean he’ll never be caught or stopped from bothering women like Heather and Nevaeh.”

“Oh, I could tell from the beginning that he was a sly player. He’s sneaky. And he’s definitely got connections. But mark my words. No one is above the law. At least that’s how the law works around here.”

I smiled at my friend’s confidence. I wanted to believe that too. For all that David had done to make Heather the traumatized and scared woman that she was, he had to pay for his wrongdoings.

And maybe once he’s caught and charged, she’ll see that she can stay. That she can put down roots and belong.

With me.

“He’s already on my radar,” Marty said.

“Mine too,” Todd added in a snarl.

Mine as well.

“He caught my attention the first time I pulled him over for speeding. Then when you fought him here,” he said, gesturing at the bar, “he was on my personal shitlist. This investigation into Eric’s injuries is the strongest link that makes him a person of interest, too. Just know that the second I can charge him, the minute I have evidence to bring him down, by the power granted to me by the town of Burton, I will bring him down.”

Hearing this support solidified my determination to help Heather. With a little help from my friends, it would be a simple matter of teamwork to show her that she damn well could fit in with the people of Burton standing up for her, for once, not judging her like an outcast.

Chapter 19

Heather

“Ijust don’t understand how I can’t remember any of it,” Eric said, shaking his head.

I sighed at him walking slowly in front of me at the food mart. His ankle was already much better. Ice and rest went a long way in improving that injury, but he seemed more impatient for his memory to return than anything else.

“Don’t force it.” I was parroting what the doctors told him, but I hoped it was true. The less he strained to remember what happened the night he’d dislocated his jaw and was lying in the basement at that apartment building, the better.

According to the doctor’s remarks at the last follow-up appointment, a different physician than the one who saw Eric at the emergency room, it was obvious he’d been punched in the jaw. He determined it from the details of the strike and damage. He went so far as to speculate with a lot of confidence that the contusion on the back of Eric’s head was what caused the temporary amnesia. Until Eric could remember anything about that night, though, it was all theory and conjecture.

“But I want to know,” he said, moving smoothly but slowly, using the small shopping cart as a walker. “Because if your ex was living there and I was by his apartment, there’s no one else who could’ve been there to punch me.”

“What about your phone? Marty took it the night we found you. Said there were some texts. Did you get to read them?” I asked.

He nodded. “Yeah, it was a vague text exchange between me and an unknown and untraceable number. Nothing helpful.”

I sighed, hating how unanswered of a mystery it was. I wished, so badly, that when David came up to me at Nance’s that I wouldn’t have been so stunned that I lost my thoughts and voice. If I’d been prepared, if I was stronger, I would’ve asked him right there if he’d messed with my cousin. If he’d talked to him at all. Proof was nonexistent.

Even if we had proof, and Marty arrested him, he’d still get away with it. All he’d need to do was call someone higher up than Marty and cash in on a favor.

“Do you remember if you wanted to talk to David?” I asked him.

“I do remember. I still do want to confront that bastard,” Eric said hotly as I set a can of pumpkin puree into the cart. We were here to get things for a little Thanksgiving dinner at his house tomorrow, but it seemed we were more intent on discussing his injuries. He was still a man of few words, but he was growing into this cousinly relationship with me.

“But I never reached out to him,” he said. “You told me not to interfere, and I swore to myself that I wouldn’t.”

“Thanks. I appreciate that.”

“But that ain’t right, Heather. I know people like to say that we should let sleeping dogs lie, but if that man’s capable of hurting me, then he’s capable of hurting you.” He frowned. “If he didn’t already.”

I drew in a steadying breath. I wasn’t ready to tell Eric about my past. I was still reeling from actually telling Roarke. I couldn’t risk feeling more vulnerable yet.