Chapter 20
Raven tapped the screen of her phone. Still no response from Sampson.
Where was he?
She nibbled her bottom lip, looking around her dark bedroom from where she lay on the bed. A bedroom shared with Xander. But he wasn’t here. He rarely got to bed before two a.m. these days. Supposedly, he was working. She’d always assumed that meant he was in his shop downstairs, fixing cars.
But she wasn’t so sure anymore. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
She sent another text.
Raven: Sampson, I really need you to call me.
Long seconds of silence ticked by. No response. Not even the three dots to show he was typing.
He was probably sleeping. It was almost midnight. Most people were sleeping.
But he always texted her back, no matter the time or the day. And today she’d told him something big. Something potentially dangerous…
She’d revealed her suspicions about Xander.
Raven: If you get this, call me right away. Please. I’m worried.
Should she be worried? She had no idea. Even if her suspicions were correct and Xander wasn’t making his money legally, that didn’t mean he’d hurt Sampson.
She squeezed her eyes closed. Sleep…she needed to sleep.
She couldn’t. Thoughts of Xander and worries about Sampson flickered through her mind.
Xander had been so different since moving to North Dakota. Distant. Cold.
No, if she was honest, it had started before the move. She’d just hoped that by coming here with him, their relationship could go back to what it used to be. Easy. Comfortable. Safe.
The move had done nothing to help them. If it hadn’t been for her friendship with Sampson, Xander’s only employee, she’d have drowned in the loneliness.
She rolled to her other side but didn’t bother closing her eyes this time. Instead, she just lay there, staring into the darkness, her head full of questions.
Why was her signature on those documents in Xander’s office? And why didn’t she feel safe enough to ask him?
They’d been together since ninth grade. She should feel safe asking him anything.
Another ten minutes passed. Minutes that trickled by so slowly they stretched and blurred.
A shout from downstairs had her shooting up into a sitting position.
Who was that? Xander? Sampson?
Quickly, she climbed out of bed and pulled on jeans, a sweatshirt, and her shoes before grabbing the garage key from the hall table.
The apartment above the garage had initially seemed like a good idea. No commute time for Xander meant he’d be home more…at least she’d thought.
She stepped outside, cold air slapping her in the face. She didn’t mind the cold though. It reminded her of home. Of Deep River and her parents and all the small-town quirks of her childhood.
She jogged down the stairs that ran down the side of the building, the dark night silent around her.
When she reached the bottom, she tried the side-door handle. Locked. Not a surprise. Xander often locked it while he worked at night.
She slipped the key into the door and turned it. The smells of oil, rubber, and metal filled her nose as she stepped inside, silently pulling the door closed behind her.
Faint light spilled over the garage, illuminating the stained concrete floors and the tools that hung on walls, others scattered on workbenches.
The silence suddenly felt loud and heavy. Was he not here? She rounded a blue Civic.
At first, she didn’t see him. Her attention was aimed upward, on the office. The windows.
When she did, she froze. Not a single part of her moved. Not her feet. Not her chest. Not even a blink. It was like her brain was trying to comprehend what she was looking at.
Then reality kicked in. A cry tore from her chest and she sprinted forward.
“Sampson!” She dropped beside him, barely feeling the pain when her knees hit the hard concrete floor. “Sampson! Open your eyes.”
He didn’t. He was completely still.
No, no, no.
Her gaze went to the knife in his stomach, air choking out of her. Her head was a foggy mess, and without thinking, she grabbed the end of it and pulled.
Blood soaked through his shirt, and she used her free hand to press against the wound.
“You’re okay, Sampson! I’m going to call for help. I’m going—” She stopped when she noticed his chest wasn’t moving.
Slowly, and with trembling fingers, she reached up and searched for his pulse.
Nothing. Not a single flicker beneath her fingers.
He was dead.
She stumbled to her feet and shot back, the knife dropping from her hand, clattering loudly to the floor.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Off the blood staining his shirt and pooling beneath his body. The way his head sat at an odd angle.
Dead. He was dead.
Xander had done this.
She searched the garage. Where was he?
The shock and nausea and guilt suddenly shifted into something else… fear.
She stumbled back another step. Then again. Before she realized what she was doing, she was running. Racing out of the garage as a wild need to get away took over her body like poison.
Out. She had to get out. Out of this house. This town. She’d call the police in the car once she was safe. She’d tell them everything. About Xander. About Sampson.
A sob tore from her chest.
She raced up the stairs two at a time before almost falling into the small apartment. Blood coated the doorknob, making a whimper bubble up from her lips.
Somehow, she made it to the bathroom a second before she dropped beside the toilet and threw up every scrap of food and water that had been in her stomach.
When she had nothing left, her gaze went to her hands. To the blood.
Her stomach rolled again.
She forced herself to her feet and turned the water on as hot as it would go. Then she started to scrub.
Tears stained her cheeks, but her eyes remained locked on the water. The way it went from clear to a crimson red. The way blood stained the basin.
There was so much. Sampson’s blood. And it wasn’t coming off. God, why wasn’t it coming off?
She pumped more soap onto her arms and scrubbed harder, the heat of the water burning her skin. His body flashed in her mind again. She whimpered, almost falling to her knees.
Quickly, she turned off the water and raced to the closet in her bedroom. A loud bang cut through the room as her suitcase hit the wooden floorboards. She threw it onto the bed and started packing, throwing clothes inside.
A voice in her head whispered that she was wasting time. That she needed to get into the car and go, now.
But there were other voices too. So many she couldn’t think.
Her best friend was gone. Dead. Because of her. Because she’d confided in him.
Hopelessness and guilt swirled in her belly, making her want to collapse to the floor. Either that or be sick again.
Suddenly, the door behind her opened with a thud. She spun to see eyes that should be familiar. Eyes that had once been comforting. Eyes that now only incited pure fear.
“Hi, Raven.”
She pushed back, her legs hitting the bed. There was nowhere to go.
“You killed him.” Rage tangled with her fear.
“Killed who?”
“Don’t play stupid, Xander. You killed Sampson! And I’m calling the police. They’re going to arrest you, and you’ll never be let out.”
He didn’t so much as flinch. “Is that right? And whose prints do you think they’ll find on the murder weapon?”
She froze. The knife. She’d pulled out the knife.
Oh God, she was going to be sick again.
“You really shouldn’t have let him snoop, Raven. Nothing good comes from that.”
“Are you laundering money? Is your business some shell company? And…what? You killed Sampson to protect it?”
A slow, evil smile curved his lips. “No, honey, it’s your shell company.” He stepped closer, the smile slipping. “And if you breathe a word of any of this, you’ll go away for both crimes.”
She lunged toward the door.
Her eyes shot open as she woke from the nightmare. The memory. The worst night of her life.
And Connor wasn’t in bed with her.
The creek of a floorboard had Connor shifting his gaze from the window to the stairs.
Raven came into view, tiptoeing toward the kitchen, phone in hand, casting a small amount of light around herself.
She didn’t see him. Not a surprise. He stood in the dark, watching the street outside. She’d only have spotted him if she was looking.
He watched as she grabbed a glass from the upper cabinet. His eyes narrowed on the shake of her hand.
In one fluid move, he was across the room and in the kitchen. “Raven.”
She jumped and spun, the glass dropping from her fingers and shattering on the floor.
“Shit!” He dropped to pick up the pieces of broken glass. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” She knelt beside him.
“I’ve got it.”
“No, I’ll help.” She gasped and dropped the glass she’d just picked up.
He cursed again, rising and stepping over the shards to take her hand.
“It’s nothing,” she whispered. She tried to tug her arm back, but even though his grip was gentle, it was also firm, refusing to let go until he’d inspected the shallow cut.
“Wait here. I’ll get the first aid kit.”
She shook her head. “You don’t—”
“Wait here, Raven. And do not even think about cleaning up the mess.”
A second passed, and she nodded.
He grabbed the kit from the hall. When he returned, he lifted her to the island, not missing her small gasp.
“Why are you shaking?” he asked, as he took out some antiseptic.
“Bad dream.”
He glanced at her before looking back down. “Want to talk about it?”
The silence stretched so long he thought she wouldn’t answer…until she did. “I found him.”
He paused. “Who?”
“Sampson. We lived over Xander’s garage, and I heard something. So I went downstairs. He was lying there, on the garage floor with a knife in his stomach.” She paled. “I wasn’t thinking and I pulled the knife out.” A shudder visibly shook her body. “I put my prints on the murder weapon.”
“That’s why you didn’t say anything?”
“He has so much he can use against me. A murder weapon with my prints, my signatures on his business documents. My parents are vulnerable. You.”
Anger cut through Connor’s body so sharply it was an effort not to flinch.
Gently, he took hold of her hand and cleaned the wound.
“He told me that if I breathed a word of anything, I’d go down with him,” she whispered.
“Ethan’s going to figure out a way to put the asshole behind bars and keep you safe.”
Real fear widened Raven’s eyes. “What if Xander finds out? I hired Tim to look into Xander’s business and he killed him!”
He met her gaze. “Trust me to look after you, Raven.”
She swallowed, her gaze skittering between his eyes.
“Ethan’s good at what he does,” Connor pushed. “He can be discreet.”
Another few seconds passed before, finally, she nodded.
He slipped a Band-Aid over her cut.
“I don’t understand why he killed Lottie,” Raven said, almost to herself. “It had to be him, but she had nothing to do with any of this.”
“He told me not to trust you. I assume he’s trying to paint you as the bad guy and discredit you, in case you talk. Maybe even turn me against you. He could’ve killed Lottie just to scare you.”
“It’s working. You suspected I could be involved, and I’m pretty scared.”
Rage peaked in his chest, but this time it was aimed at himself. “I’m sorry.”
“We haven’t known each other for long, and I didn’t tell you a lot about my past.” She fiddled with a loose string on her shirt. “Slowing down might be a good idea. Getting to know each other a bit better.”
“Is that what you want?”
“It’s what we need.”
“I’d do anything for you.” He inched between her thighs. “My team and I are going to make sure you and your parents are protected.”
“You can’t protect me against the law.”
“Watch me.”
She frowned, her bottom lip disappearing into her mouth. Then she leaned forward and touched her forehead to his. “I know I said I wanted slow, and I do, but…will you come up and just hold me while I fall asleep?”
“Yes.”
He took her hand and helped her off the island.
“The broken glass,” she started, as they headed toward the stairs.
“That can wait. You need sleep.”
When they reached his bedroom, he slid beneath the covers and tugged her against his chest.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“For what?”
“For staying by my side…even when you had every reason not to.”