Chapter 20
Chapter twenty
Reeve Hardy
For You — HIM
I throw my ball cap backward as I walk with Winona to her campus. We pause near her building, and she steps in front of me, craning her neck up to look up into my eyes.
“Hey, handsome,” she winks, flashing her sweetest grin.
A smile instantly stretches across my face, baring my teeth. I slightly shake my head and say, “Hey, beautiful.”
“I think I just saw my future in your eyes.”
I swipe my tongue over my teeth. “Are you trying to make me blush?”
She mirrors me. “Is it working?”
“You tell me.” I arch my brow and brace for her sassy comment.
“I see some hints of pink decorating your cheeks.” She pauses for a moment. “Now, it’s on full display.”
I cuff her wrists behind her back with one hand.
A soft moan escapes her puffy lips before I bring my other hand around her throat.
“I think you said that pink suits me,” I say playfully, kissing her forehead.
I wish this would never end. I want to be hers forever.
This is the life I wanted—not to be someone’s weapon, but to be a beautiful part of their world when they seek comfort and shelter.
She opens her mouth to speak—
“Hey, Winona,” says Larson as he passes us, waving. I roll my eyes as he turns halfway when Winona doesn’t answer. “I’ll see you in English class.” His eyes slide to mine, and a little smirk curls up at the corner of his mouth.
She is busy, asshole.
“Hey, Larson, save me a seat.” Winona glances his way and waves dismissively, but he takes it as an invitation to step closer and hand her a ticket for the football game this weekend.
“Thought to take you out and have some fun.”
I can’t take my eyes off that annoying leech who’s bothering her. I know she’s being polite, but that jerk is pushing boundaries and bringing back memories I don’t want to remember.
I clench my fist by my side and grab Winona’s throat. Pulling her in for a passionate kiss, my eyes stay open while Larson watches every tongue thrust.
His smirk quickly fades, giving way to an angry twitch, as he rushes off and storms into the building, knocking someone’s books to the floor.
I concentrate on Winona, savoring the sweet taste of her lips. I gently draw her closer to deepen the kiss. My tongue circles hers perfectly, but she pulls away and playfully slaps my chest.
“Are you kissing me for show?”
I cup her cheek, letting my thumbs caress her lips. “He needs to mind his own business. You are my business.”
“I don’t care about him.”
I look down at her through hooded eyelids, licking my lips. “Can you do me a favor?”
“What?” She places her hands on my hips, her fingers gently stroking the fabric of my t-shirt in soothing patterns.
Heat slowly climbs up my body, and I clear my voice.
“Be careful around this guy. I don’t trust him.”
“Didn’t you run a check-up on him decades ago?” she jokes. “He’s annoying yet harmless. He’s in all my classes, so getting rid of him is a pain.”
“Yeah, I didn’t find anything, but… he prefers to go to parties to get high.
He picks fights with random people for the sake of it.
He’s always around when you are. He’s obsessed with you.
He’s being nice to you, not because he has good manners, but because he expects you to give him something in return.
He makes sure you feel comfortable until he crosses the line, then he pulls back.
Testing the waters but not diving in. He’s patient but unpredictable—dangerous.
Plus, he acts weird around me, as if he’s trying to provoke me.
I know you’re almost done with college, so keep an eye out. ”
“Sounds a lot like you, Mr. Detective. But you have good manners, and you never took advantage of me.”
I break into a smile. “I could’ve been a hell of a detective.”
“Absolutely. Side note: You did punch him once into unconsciousness. Maybe… that’s why he’s acting the way he does around you. He’s a provoker for sure.” Her eyes flick up and down while I absorb her sharp intake.
“So observant.” I kiss her nose. “Have fun.”
“Rule number one. Always stay alert,” she whispers against my lips, snatching the ball cap from my head with a shit-eating grin and putting it on her head as she scurries away.
Touché, Baby.
I wave at her with the football ticket I slipped from her pocket.
I breathe in the fragments of the sweet scent she left behind as I pull my phone out of my pocket to text Koy. I need to ensure Larson is not a problem. I trust her, but I don’t trust him.
The devil lies in the details.
My phone vibrates in my hand as I accept the call.
“Larson lives with his mom on the other side of the city. He’s a troubled kid, but nothing out of the ordinary. The mom is seeing someone, but it’s not serious, at least not yet.” Koy reports. “Pay no mind to him, Reeve. He’s starving for attention that you shouldn’t nurture. Focus on her.”
I end the call, pocket my phone, pull out my lighter, and burn the fucking ticket.
She’s not going anywhere with that fucking clown.
“Who’s the guy in that photo Winona took in college?” Braxton turns his head toward the back seat, giving me a tense, mortified look.
“That guy from English class. He got cozy with Winona at a party, so I paid someone to spill booze on them,” I reply with a smirk.
“You’re so obsessed.” Mitch pulls a cigarette from his pack and presses it against his lip. “You’re out here exterminating killers so she can live a happy life.” He sighs as he searches his pocket for a lighter.
“What’s his name?” Braxton points us back to the subject as he clicks a few buttons on his laptop.
“I think his name was Larson. Why?”
“He appears in almost every photo Winona took back then, looking directly at her. The only difference is that now he has blonde hair and a face tattoo.”
“What?” I lean closer against the front seat. “What are you talking about?” I stare at Braxton’s laptop screen, where the two photos are lined up side by side.
“He looks exactly like the driver who took you to Third Eye.”
My eyes dance between the photos. Shit.
He does.
I knew he looked familiar.
“He seems like one of those guys who becomes obsessed after a beautiful girl rejects him, making it his life mission to harass her to prove a point,” Mitch blurts, blowing smoke.
My eyes shoot daggers at him.
“Sounds like it,” Braxton adds more fuel to the fire.
But how is he connected to everything? We haven’t seen him since the day Winona finished college.
I chew on my bottom lip.
“Was he ever in the house with you?” Braxton asks while running his photo through recognition software.
“That would be a firm no.” That was always non-negotiable.
“Larson Stone. Twenty-eight years old and a police officer, just like his stepdad...” Braxton pauses as if for dramatic effect, but when he swallows hard, I know it’s far worse than that. “Timothy Kent. I think we found our dirty cop.”
In a photo he opens from another server, there’s a clear shot of him hugging a man who looks just like Third Eye.
“Daddy keeps him squeaky clean,” Mitch says, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“I’m not surprised,” I comment, “Cops make the best criminals.” I saw it with my own eyes at the circus and outside it.
It’s funny how someone can turn from a moonstruck college kid with a mild suppressed aggression and an addiction into a killer working for one of the cruelest men in the world.
We have that in common.
They remain silent, yet their intense expressions speak volumes.
“Maybe they didn’t go after Winona because of Romina if Larson told them about her on purpose,” I vocalize my thoughts. “We need to find out more. Who’s Timothy Kent?”
Braxton immediately looks for the name. “He is Salem’s former chief of police. He quit three years ago. He said that he wanted to spend time with his family in the media.”
“Early retirement?” Mitch jokes again. “The sick fuck is making millions.”
“Well, his wife does because everything is in her name,” Braxton continues.
“Does she know that?”
“Time will tell,” I reply to Mitch.
“Timothy has a daughter, Summer Kent. They live in Salem.” Braxton pulls a photo of her at a college party from an Instagram account.
But what grabs my attention are two familiar faces smiling on either side of her.
Cash Andrews, the guy who threw all the parties during Winona’s college days.
The other one is… Klaus. I met him at the circus when I was fourteen and again when I became Winona’s bodyguard.
He was the guy I asked to spill booze on Winona and Larson.
“Do we know where Larson is right now?”
Mitch spins around in his seat to look at me. “He disappeared the day we rescued you, along with Third Eye. You are lucky we managed to get to you in time. You were all bruised and battered.”
“He tortured you in a basement, and you acted like it was nothing. Who the fuck are you?” Braxton gives me a pointed look, but it quickly changes to admiration.
“The same guy I was yesterday,” I reply calmly. I trained for these kinds of situations when I was a teenager for a reason. Romina knew that someday I would be out here. That was the plan all along.
Even when I was severely wounded with many broken bones that I could hardly keep my eyes open, bleeding endlessly, all I could think about was Winona’s beautiful, radiant smile, curving around her freckled cheek and lighting up her eyes.
I was surprised that torture wasn’t in the cards for me, like losing a finger or two or being electrocuted just for fun, yet he kept beating me over and over again.
Each punch became harsher than the last whenever I used sarcasm against him and refused to play along.
It took me a few months to recover, and I hated every minute I was apart from her.
“A blessing or a curse, either way, I want to be by your side when the world ends.”
“You’re always exaggerating,” Braxton shakes his head at Mitch.