Page 6

“I know you’re tired, but I still don’t know what’s going on. Tell me everything, and then I’ll let you get some rest. Can you do that?”

She gave her head a little shake and widened her eyes as far as they could go, like she was forcing herself to stay awake. “Right. Okay. I really don’t think it was another photographer. Wouldn’t it be easier to spread a rumor and ruin my reputation than attack me physically? But the first time…I had just come home from the awards ceremony in London, so the timing is suspicious, I guess. I was outside the airport, getting a taxi home. The driver was putting my suitcase in the trunk. I turned around, and there was this man. I couldn’t see his face. It was dark, and he was wearing a black hoodie and sunglasses. And I knew something awful was about to happen. He was too close, and it felt all wrong. But before I could do anything, he slapped me across my face. Hard.” She blinked, strumming her lower lip between her teeth, like she was feeling it all over again. “He must have had a ring on because something cut my cheek. And then he was gone.”

Helpless rage boiled beneath my skin, but only half of it was directed at her attacker. What had I been doing in that exact moment, when some motherfucker walked right up to my wife and hit her in the face? Sleeping? Playing with goddamn goats? That old familiar guilt clawed at my insides. Everyone I cared about got hurt, and I remained unscathed.

“You filed a police report?” I bit out.

She nodded. “They checked the cameras but couldn’t get a good look at his face. I doubt they devoted much effort to finding him, though. Everyone figured it was a random attack, me included, and I wasn’t seriously injured. But the second time…” Her fingers twisted in the bed sheets, knuckles blanched white. “I knew it was personal. I was at a bar with some girlfriends. He whispered my name in my ear right before he put a cigarette out on my shoulder.”

Yeah. Good thing I hadn’t made a promise I couldn’t keep. That son of a bitch was as good as dead.

I exhaled long and slow, forcing myself to remain calm. “Anything else?”

“You mean other than a little light stabbing?” she deadpanned. I narrowed my eyes at her. I wasn’t in a mental place where we could joke about this. She sighed. “No, that’s it. And honestly, I’d rather not wait around to see what he does next.”

I rubbed my knuckles against my palm, frowning as I tried to put the puzzle pieces together. An airport, a bar, a national park. How had he known where to find her? I didn’t follow her on social media, but I checked up on her now and then from a fake account to make sure she was still alive. Not often, but enough that I knew she didn’t make a habit of posting her location until she was long gone. She wasn’t careless.

“Where was the bar?” I asked.

“West Oakland, about a mile from my house.”

My stomach sank. Fuck.

The look on my face must have said a lot, because she closed her eyes with a weary sigh. “Yeah, I know. He knows where I live. That’s why I couldn’t go home or to my mom’s house. I couldn’t risk him following me there, too.”

“How did he know when you would be at the airport? Or Yellowstone?”

She let out another heavy sigh. “That was my bad. I posted a picture of the view out my airplane window right before takeoff. If he knew I was in London for the ceremony and knew I would land at SFO, that would have given him everything he needed to figure out the time. And Yellowstone...I was one of the instructors for a three-day photography workshop. It wasn’t a secret I was there.”

“And no one saw him?”

“There were at least a dozen people around, but everyone was focused on their own cameras. He stabbed me right there in front of everybody, and no one saw a damn thing.” Frustration seeped into her voice. “How does he do that? He’s like a ghost.”

I was leaning in, my hand on hers before I could stop myself. My eyes bore into hers. “Listen to me. He’s not a ghost. He’s a man, and no man is infallible. We’re going to find him.” And I’m going to kill him.

Her eyes searched mine, and then she nodded. “All right. Can I sleep now? Please. I’m so tired.”

I scraped back the chair and pushed to my feet. “Get some rest. The doctor said you can go home tomorrow. I’ll be back to pick you up. You will stay with me until we get this figured out. My cabin isn’t big, but the ranch is fully booked and, anyway, it’s not safe for you to be alone.”

“It’s not safe for me to be with other people, either, apparently. Hence the stab wound.”

My lips flattened. “You’ll be safe with me.”

“I know.”

I was halfway to the door when she stopped me. “Thank you. For everything. For saving my life and giving me a place to stay.”

“You’re my wife.”

She snorted. “Ex-wife.”

I looked at her. “Lila⁠—”

“It means a lot,” she rushed out. “Thank you, Sebastian.”

Sebastian. Not Seb. I froze with my hand wrapped around the doorknob. Then with a short nod, I gave the doorknob a vicious yank and stalked out.

I guess we’re not friends anymore.