Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
WILDER
The walk through downtown back to my place isn’t relaxing like it usually is. When residents smile, wave, and ask me about tomorrow’s special, I smile through clenched teeth and pretend like everything is normal.
Like my veins aren’t frosting over by the minute at the thought of the danger I left behind coming to this town and getting the people I care about involved in something they never should’ve been exposed to.
All I can do now is get out before it blows back on them.
Turn myself in, take whatever deal they offer me, and make sure no one ever thinks to look into a little town nestled in the mountains called Smoky Heights.
Even if it’s where my heart will be the whole time.
I was ready for the change of scenery, but I never expected to fall for its charm the way I have.
The gorgeous stretch of downtown, framed by those blue and purple mountains, the pink sky behind them. It’s straight out of a painting.
Every storefront on this two-block stretch, as ridiculous as the names are, they’re places run by people with a passion for what they do, making others happy day in and day out.
Whether it’s a cup of coffee, a scoop of ice cream, finding their next great read, the lives here aren’t glamorous, but they’re real.
And the people. They care in a way I’m not used to seeing from near strangers.
You can’t walk by someone on the street here without having them smile and say hi, or try to wrap you up in some small talk.
If they see a frown on your face, it’s “What’s wrong, Chef?
I’ve got somethin’ that might cheer ya up! ”
Hell, I think Lexi has been the least welcoming person in this entire town, and that’s just because I pissed her off by laughing at the name of the restaurant the first time she met me. Before that her eyes were warm, her gaze hot, and I think I might have just found her very welcoming.
Although—the urge to laugh right now is almost unsettling—I’m not sure I would’ve wanted things to develop between us any other way.
Melting her defenses, forcing her to admit to herself the way she wanted to give in to the pull between us, despite her mission to make me miserable, it’s been a ride I’d never get off.
If I weren’t endangering her by staying here.
I soak in the surroundings, the birds flitting between lampposts, the kind people seated at the bistro tables or benches as I pass by the south block of Main for the last time.
It’s what I use to strengthen my resolve, solidify my determination to get out of here and keep them and their way of life safe.
Mob rule wouldn’t go over here. This isn’t the fifties.
Turning along the side of the boutique, the townhouse whose basement I call home is in sight when a car catches my eye. Slowly as I can, I follow its path up Main, watch as it creeps along toward the café, pausing right in front of it, tinted windows too dark to make out who might be inside.
But the sleek body of the town car is distinct enough for me. And I have no trouble making out the license plate.
Blue and yellow.
New York.
Launching into a sprint, I take off for my place, making a mental list of the things I need to take with me to go back. My belongings can be replaced. But I need my stash of cash to get myself there.
As soon as I’m out of town, I can call the number from the letter. It’s burned into my head. I’ll call them, tell them I had to pack up before I could get back to the city, but I’m on my way and I’ll see them there.
Draw them away from the Heights, and the people in it.
It’s not a minute before I’m at my door, chest heaving, hair in my face from the exertion of moving a body with this much mass at the speed I just did, but no time for that.
My hands fumble with the key and I curse myself.
Che cazzo, do better, Amante.
The second it’s in and the knob turns, I throw the door open and bolt toward my room. The one I got to bring Lexi back to just once.
My feet stop moving before the rest of me does when I see I’m too late.
My dad’s old boss is sitting on the drooping couch of my small living room, waiting for me.
“Wilder,” he says, arms extended. “We’ve been trying to reach you, my boy. You’re a hard man to get ahold of.”