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“He’s my best friend,” I said. Technically, if you didn’t consider acquaintances as friends, Sean was my only friend. We met when he’d reached out to ask a few questions about my father’s case for his podcast, and once I realized he believed in my father’s innocence, we started to spend time together.
“What happened to her?” Sean repeated, trying to pull me away from Hunter.
“Long story,” Hunter said as he pulled me back to him, my left arm sliding down Sean’s back.
Sean wasn’t about to take that lying down though. He knew I wasn’t friends with Hunter, and I could only imagine what in the world was going through his mind. Why was I half naked? Why was I acting drunk in the middle of the day?
“I’ve got her, dude.” Sean’s fingers tightened around me, attempting to tug me back with a determined pull, but Hunter resisted, keeping me anchored.
“Step. Aside,” Hunter snapped.
Sean looked like he debated arguing further, but it wasn’t like Hunter was trying to hurt me. Maybe Sean thought about how hard he’d worked to grow his podcast into a small business. Maybe he feared an army of lawyers descending onto it if he pissed Hunter off.
Whatever the reason, Sean reluctantly shoved his hands into his pockets and watched me with guarded eyes as Hunter navigated me to my front porch.
He fished my keys out of my purse, which was amusingly dangling from his other shoulder, unlocked the door, and helped me inside.
The interior of the cottage was cozy. The main room contained a charming fireplace made of the same stone as the exterior, crowned by an aged timber mantel. On cold nights, the fire flickered, casting a warm glow that danced on the weathered wooden beams overhead, filling the room with a comforting, golden light.
To one side, a small kitchen—which had a cast-iron stove and vintage copper pots hanging from hooks—sat next to a dining room so small that the four-person table took up most of the space.
Which was the spot I pointed to.
“I want to sit there.” Just until the meds wore off. Then I was going to take the longest shower in history.
“You’ll be more comfortable on the couch or in your bed,” Hunter said.
So bossy.
“There,” I repeated.
Something told me that Hunter would never normally budge with getting his way, but after looking at me for a few seconds, his chest swelled, and he frowned.
Begrudgingly, Hunter helped me sit down at one of the dining room chairs, placed my purse on the ground, and scanned my table, which was blanketed in papers. Along the wall, brown cardboard boxes full of other paperwork were stacked on top of each other.
“Jesus.”
“This is how regular folks live, Lockwood,” I said. “We don’t all have moats and dragons guarding our castles.”
“Isthiswhat you’re doing every night?” Hunter picked up a piece of paper, which had my father’s name on it. “When your dining room light is on at all hours?”
He noticed my light on?
I yanked the paper from Hunter’s hand. “I told you, my father is innocent, and I’m going to prove it.”
Hunter glanced at the mountain of paperwork, then eyed Sean again, before looking over at the television in my living room, which I’d accidentally left on this morning.
Currently, a story was airing about the Vigilante and his latest attack.
His gaze shifted, a hint of intrigue narrowing his eyes as they settled on the odd assembly of figures perched on the fireplace mantel. They might seem quirky to others, but for me, those trolls were a link to happier days. When I was a kid, my dad and I had started a collection, and now, the supposed good-luck charms were simply reminders of the precious time I shared with my father that was cut way too short.
“I have to meet my PI,” Hunter said. “He’s looking into Franco to assess the threat level.”
“What threat?” Sean’s voice was high-pitched. “And who the hell is Franco?”
“He’s the man who choked Luna.”
Sean’s face paled, his lips parting in shock, clearly unprepared for the gravity of what he’d just heard.
