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She moves quickly to the little fridge in the kitchenette. Her long hair grabs my attention, this feathery mass pouring down her back. I wonder how long she’s been growing it out.
It’s enough to distract me from realizing what she’s doing until she’s pulled out two bottles of our very own local Red House Breweries stout.
I’m almost impressed when she twists the caps off with her bare hands—no bottle opener needed—then thunks one down on the table in front of me before taking a swig from her own.
She exhales as she lowers the bottle.
“Your turn.” She points at one of the empty chairs around the table. “Sit. Drink your beer. Talk to me like a normal human being.”
Damn her.
I think if I smile right now, I might be the next Redhaven homicide case, so I hold it in.
“Yes, ma’am.”
I sit and take a pull off the bottle.
The beer’s good. Thick, dark, and foamy with a hint of cocoa sweetness.
I linger over a few sips, watching her, turning my thoughts over to figure out what I can slip her when I’ve still got so many doubts of my own about this case.
“The county coroner IDed her off dental records,” I say. “It took a while since he had to do a national search. She’s from Los Angeles. Emma Santos is the name. She’s twenty-two and an Instagram model. Toxicology found a big damn mess of cocaine in her system. Enough to kill several people. She died of an overdose. Stopped her heart cold.” I take a long pull off my beer, waiting for her reaction. “Rules out foul play, at least.”
That last fragment of suspicion quiets when she doesn’t betray a hint of relief, or any delayed reactions that say she’s schooling herself so she doesn’t betray any prior knowledge.
Mostly, she looks confused—and worried.
“...I just don’t get it. How did a model from LA end up in the backwoods of North Carolina?”
“That, Miss Delilah,” I say around another swig, “is the million-dollar question. Especially since there’s only one group of people in Redhaven known for rubbing elbows with models and actresses.”
Her brows wrinkle. “Let me guess, the Arrendells? But if she overdosed on her own, they’re not liable for any charges, are they?”
“No. I have to wonder why Ulysses didn’t mention anything, if he knew her. He’s the only one of the brothers who’s been in town recently.”
“Are you going to ask him about it?” Her lips purse.
“Him and his old man, yeah. Montero Arrendell has certain tastes.”
I don’t mention that Delilah is a pretty good match when it comes to the types of women Montero keeps around.
“Hmmm.” Her mouth twists. “So it may not have anything to do with Ulysses at all?”
There it is.
That bristling irritation, that spark of jealousy, that fear that she might be relieved that her pretty boy white knight just might be clean.
I need to get this shit under control, stat.
She’s not fucking mine.
She’s not even someone I know with more than passing interest in a nasty death case, so I’d better get my goddamned focus back now.
She doesn’t need me to rescue her.
Not from Ulysses Arrendell and not from anything else.
I’m as neutral as possible when I say, “Until I dig up more, I’d advise you to be a little wary of any strangers in town.”
Delilah blinks before she offers me her familiar sad smile again, the one that makes my heart ache for her even if I can’t quite put my finger on why. “But everyone’s a stranger to me. I’m new to Redhaven.”
“Then maybe you ought to be wary of everyone, Miss Delilah.”
5
Ruby Red (Delilah)
You know what’s annoying?
I should be thinking about my first day of classroom prep the minute I wake up.
But my brain is stuck on Lucas flipping Graves.
I’m still stuck on last night, everything he told me about Emma Santos and being wary of strangers. Plus, everything I told him about me.
After we finished talking, we just sat there together, drinking our beers in this comfortable silence that only weirded me out because it felt too easy.
It should’ve been uncomfortable, and it wasn’t.
It was like that peaceful stillness I only experienced for the first time in my life a few days ago—only this time, I wasn’t alone.
Who knew the most annoying man alive could make me feel safe?
Who knew we could just talk, enjoy a few drinks, and just be?
When he finished his beer, he got up and left. One nod, a wave of one large hand, a lingering glance from feral green eyes that hid whatever he was really thinking.
Then he was gone into the night.
Nope.
Not thinking about this today—or him.
I’ve got the keys to the school and a whole free day, so I’m going to scope out my classroom, tidy up a bit, and do a little shopping before the real work begins.
