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“I’m in.” Remy grinned.
“Me too,” Peyton said.
“Girls’ night,” Kinsley yelled with a hand in the air as she left the shop with a laughing Peyton following behind her.
Remy chuckled, loving the hell out of those girls. She put her mind back on stocking her shelves.
By the time the end of the workday came, Remy felt ready for her couch and her slippers, but she’d promised Kinsley and Peyton she’d be at the bar tonight. She locked the front door and flipped the closed sign before scooping up Salem on her way out the back door. After giving Salem dinner, and freshening up her makeup a little, she headed back down the stairs, then headed through the alleyway toward Kinsley’s bar, when something—or more importantly, someone—caught her attention. Across the street from the shop, sitting on the bench along the sidewalk, was Lars, his gaze set on hers, that scary crooked smile on his face.
“Hi, Remy!” Hannah, who worked at the post office, said, causing Remy’s attention to jerk to her. “Cute shop. I heard the grand opening was a huge success and that your heal-all cream is amazing.”
Remy forced a smile. “Thanks. I’m glad people are loving the cream.”
Hannah smiled and lifted the big box in her hands. “Gotta run, but I’ll be back soon to grab that cream.” She hurried off, then headed into the hardware store a couple stores down.
Remy turned, half expecting Lars to have vanished. He didn’t. He sat in the same place, one arm draped over the back of the bench, his ankle crossed over his knee. Most people might think he was there relaxing, taking in the day. Remy knew better. Those cold, dead eyes were narrowed on her.
She contemplated turning away and going into Kinsley’s bar, but then something came over her. She looked both ways before crossing the street. “Why are you following me?” she demanded when she reached Lars.
He cocked his head. “Who says I’m following you?”
“Well, something is up,” she said with a huff, putting her hands on her hips. “Listen, I don’t know what you want with Damon, but I have zero contact with him. I confronted him because he was an asshole who tried to scam me, and then saw him once more for closure, but I haven’t seen him since. If you want answers from him, you’re going to have to go and talk to him.”
“That might be a little hard,” Lars said.
Remy crossed her arms, trying desperately to portray annoyed, not scared. “And why is that?”
“He’s dead.”
A sudden coldness struck her core and she took a step back, nearly falling off the curb. Her mind shattered, desperate to stay strong, but everything spun away from her. One part of her heart broke, instantly reminding her that she was not nearly as healed as she’d led herself to believe. Dead? Sure, maybe she’d never loved him like she’d loved Asher, but she had decided to make a life with him. She cared for him. “He’s dead?” she breathed.
Lars nodded. “Found in the jail’s hallway about an hour ago.”
Remy stared at him, incredulous, trying to understand. The ground was rocking beneath her. “Did he kill himself?”
Lars smiled. Honest to God smiled. “Nah, he’d never get off that easy. Looks like a stabbing.”
Remy hugged herself tighter. If Damon was killed, Remy had no doubt that Asher would know that before anyone else. Either Asher was protecting her for another hit of pain, or Lars knew about the death because he’d ordered it. Remy glanced around, suddenly very aware of how alone she was with this hardened criminal, even though people strode Main Street around her. When she turned back, he hadn’t taken his cold gaze off her. “How do you even know that information?” she asked.
“I’ve got friends of friends in the Whitby Falls jail. Word gets around quick.”
“Okay,” she said, not believing that for one second. She took a deep breath, picking her heart up off the ground, and put on a brave face. “I’m not sure if you’re expecting a reaction here from me. Right now, my feelings are at level fucked up. I don’t know how to feel about Damon’s death or even what to say.”
Lars cocked his head and watched her intently for a long moment, then he finally gestured next to him. “Take a seat.”
“No, thanks,” she said adamantly.
He hesitated, and without moving, but seeming way larger and way scarier, he stated, “That wasn’t a choice.” Again, he gestured next to him.
Wanting to keep this talk friendly, she slowly moved, sitting as far away as she could.
At that, he grinned. “I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”
“What do you want, or are just here to play games?” she said firmly, forcing her voice out without a tremble.
He snorted a laugh, then glanced ahead at her shop. “Damon was married to my baby sister, Christine.”
He
