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And it’s not the only thing he’s hiding, either. Trevor couldn’t get much on the man. It seems Ryker Bardot didn’t exist until about five years ago. So, it’s surely an alias. But why?
When I get out of my car and move toward his house, I can’t help but to look toward her house. The lights are on, night falling and creating shadows near my favorite tree.
Even though everything screams for me to stay away, to give her the space she needs, my feet float me closer to the front of her house.
She’s added blinds to the front windows, but she has the ones near the pine open. Does she want me to be able to see her? Was it done purposefully? Or has she not turned them down yet for the night?
When I slip closer, my heart beats wildly in my chest as I look in and see Emery sitting on her couch, both of them locked in conversation.
My blood rages through my veins, and my hand finds the gun once more, ripping it free and keeping it ready for if I need it.
I grapple with what to do. I promised to give her the time she needed, but her rapist is on her couch. Surely, she’d forgive me for barging in and protecting her, right?
Pacing outside the window, I try to maintain my cool as darkness edges over the twilight sky.
I skim the gun’s barrel over my lips as my mind races.
Doesn’t she know you can’t taunt a monster? And even though I’mhermonster, I still live on too dangerous of an edge for her to push me.
And it seems my little one might need reminding.
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Emery
Her call had taken me off guard complete. Sure, I’d drunkenly texted and called. And left a regrettable voicemail. Leaving a literal trail of my spiraling insanity. Conner had told me the same story he always had. He found me in a state of undress and Carina was on the floor. That he got me out of the bathroom, and that he went back for her. Got her to safety. But something about his demeanor just doesn’t sit right with me. I know he’s lying, and I needed to speak to someone about it. Now, if less whiskey had been consumed, I’d have probably thought before ringing up the girl I’m accused of taking advantage of, but now we’re here.
Winter still has a tight hold on us, but I can’t stop sweating. I wipe my hands on my jeans before ringing the doorbell. Being here before had seemed exciting, like we were starting something. But that was before. Before, revisited memories had ruined any excitement that I’d had for us to develop into something.
Carina opens the door, and she’s in a teal robe that covers a grey t-shirt dress. She tightens it around herself, shuffling her fuzzy slippers backward to give me room to enter.
The cat's eye me with disdain, and I know I deserve it.
Stepping inside, I try to simmer my heart rate down, breathing as I pocket my shaking hands.
“Now, what was so urgent you couldn’t speak to me over the phone? Is a police officer going to burst in and arrest me for what I did to you, because...”
I hold up a hand, cutting her off. “No. Nothing like that. You were more than warranted in what you did.”
She closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose, a shame-filled look washing over her. “Was I? Because I think I was a little too hasty in my persecution. I keep having all these flashes...”
“Me too,” I cut her off, and she opens her eyes and finds mine.
Hers are so deep, and it’s not the color. It’s the way she pins you with her stare, as if you’re the only person in the universe she can see.
It’s unnerving.
“Tell me what you remember,” I say almost inaudibly.
She motions for me to sit on the couch next to her. Pulling her feet off the floor, she tugs her legs into her chest, securing them with her arms around them.
“The most recent dream I had was Conner helping me out of the house. There was fire everywhere. Beams were falling. There was a body...” She swallows, closing her eyes and letting the memory come unbidden. Something even I’m not strong enough to do.
She’s likely the toughest person I’ve met in my life.
Besides for her pitbull of stalker. Another thing I need to discuss with her.
“So, that part of his story is accurate. He told me he helped you safely out of the house.” Though I swore either Dad’s file, or Conner, had said she’d been missing from the bathroombeforethe fire. Nothing makes sense, and the one who seems to know the most won’t talk.
