Chapter 2 Xaden #12
Noah’s in the seat beside me, eyes wide, pointing and laughing.
I smile with him, but my gaze drifts to the empty space on my other side.
The seat feels too big without Xaden’s arm draped across the back.
I can almost feel the ghost of his breath on my cheek, hear that low “hi” that still lives under my skin.
Below, music drifts up from the fairground speakers. Tragedy, by the Bee Gees. Apparently Baywood believes in disco trauma as a tradition.
Suddenly, a chill slides down my spine. Like someone’s eyes are on me. I shake it off. Then Noah points, and I see why.
“Sheriff is waving,” he says, happy and care-free.
I freeze.
Down on the ground, half-hidden by the cotton candy stand, Sheriff Willard leans against a lamppost, hat in his hands, looking like any other man killing time at the fair.
Only his eyes aren’t on the games or the rides.
They’re locked on us.
And he doesn’t look away.
XADEN
The phone buzzes in my back pocket, sharp and unexpected. When I glance at the screen, my stomach drops. Keller. He wouldn’t call unless it was serious.
My fingers feel stiff as I swipe to answer. “Yeah?”
“Bailey.” His voice is clipped, too calm to be anything but bad news.
Something in my chest tightens. “What’s wrong?”
“We sent our agent to Hudson’s house,” Keller says. “The house is empty.”
I blink. “Empty?”
“Completely. The door was unlocked — you might want to talk to him about that — but no one was home. No car outside.”
I force a breath. It’s fine. It’s normal. He takes Noah out. They go to the park, the library, wherever. Don’t lose it.
“They’re probably just out. The fair’s in town,” I say, trying to keep my tone level.
“I thought of that,” Keller replies. “And made a discreet inquiry through the local patrol routes.” He hesitates. A cold, heavy weight lands in my gut.
“What?” I snap. Keller exhales slowly.
“Willard was looking for them.”
Blood rushes through my ears and my vision blurs. “What do you mean looking for them?” My voice is low, dangerous.
“He might just be taunting you. It could be one of his power games,” Keller says. My grip on the phone tightens so hard it hurts.
“Where’s your agent?” I demand.
“Still tracking. Right now, she’s sweeping the fairground, keeping a low profile. But you need to stay calm. We don’t have confirmation that anything’s happened.”
I don’t reply.
There’s a beat of silence. “Listen to me, son, you don’t move a muscle unless you have to. If Willard wants a reaction, don’t give it to him.”
“Too late. He’s already got it,” I mutter, hanging up before he can say more. My hands are fists at my sides.
Willard wants Cole? Wants Noah?
Over my dead body.
My legs are already halfway to the door.
COLE
Noah is ready to go home. His balloon bumps gently against my arm as we weave past the last row of game stalls.
He’s dragging his feet now, sticky from lemonade spills, hair wind-tousled from the Ferris wheel.
We head toward the exit hand in hand, the fair’s music and noise fading to a low hum behind us.
I’m thinking about early dinner and bath time, because after a day like this, Noah will tire more easily. I’m actively trying not to replay the moment earlier, the dark figure watching us.
I’m cursing myself for forgetting my phone at home. Still, we’re not far from the car. And there’s no way the sheriff would do anything here, right? He’d probably just want to give “a friendly warning” about Xaden again.
We reach the gravel lot. I unlock the Volvo, buckle Noah into his booster, and climb in. Turn the key.
Nothing. Not even the sad cough of a dying battery. Just a dull click.
My pulse spikes. I try again. Same sound.
“Why aren’t we going home?” Noah mumbles, half-asleep already.
“Car’s just being stubborn,” I say lightly, though my palms are slick on the steering wheel. “Try not to fall asleep in the car, buddy, it’s too late for a nap.”
I pop the hood, get out. The gravel crunches loud under my shoes, every step too sharp in the quiet lot.
It’s eerily quiet. Where is everybody? Right now, I’d even welcome Earl’s silly face.
Then I hear footsteps.
“What’s wrong?” Sheriff Willard asks from behind me, voice all fake brightness. “Car trouble?”
I turn, and there he is, smiling like we just ran into each other at the grocery store. Teeth catching the last sunlight, too white, too polished.
My heart is pounding.
Willard is dirty. A murderer. How dangerous is he?
Should I shout? Run? What should I do?
“I’ll be happy to give you a ride back home,” Willard says evenly, smile widening as he peers through the window at Noah.
“Would you like a ride in a real police car, kiddo?”
Don’t call him kiddo.
“We just rode up on the wheel,” Noah says, blinking, voice innocent, trusting. It twists something in my gut. Noah sees a neighbor, a familiar face.
I see a threat.
What’s the right call? What would Xaden want me to do?
Every cell in my body screams no. Don’t put Noah in his car. Don’t let him have that kind of power. But if I refuse without reason, will he know?
Will he suspect that I know? Then what?
God, I’d never be able to do what Xaden does.
“Daddy, I wanna go home now,” Noah whines, on the edge of tears. I have to move.
I force a smile. My voice shakes, but hopefully Willard doesn’t hear it. “If you can give us a ride, that would be great.”
“Excellent.” Willard smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. That’s nothing new. The man has always despised me. “You’ll be home in no time.” He gestures toward his car. He’s parked in a disabled spot — of course. What a jerk.
I unbuckle Noah, gather him and his balloon, and circle toward the sheriff’s vehicle.
The fair’s lights spin behind us, blurring.
The air smells of sugar, but underneath it, something sour. Willard hums like this is just a neighborly favor.
Is it?
Or am I walking straight into a trap?
XADEN
Finally, Keller calls back.
“They were spotted at the fair,” he says. My grip on the burner tightens so hard the plastic creaks.
“And?”
“Willard’s with them.” It’s like someone pours gasoline into my veins. My pulse spikes, not fast. Violent.
“We have an agent on site, Bailey. You stay put, hear me?” Stay put?
Like hell. My mind’s already running the angles.
The fairground’s only two miles away if I cut down by the old mill road.
I could be there in four minutes, five tops.
But what would I be walking into? Willard’s smart, he’d make it look friendly, even if it wasn’t.
If I storm in fists first, I’d blow the cover for good. Still, the image burns in my head: Cole, standing too still, smiling uncertainly. Noah clutching his hand. Willard leaning in, that smug shadow of a smile.
I know that smile. It’s the same one he wore when he lied to my face after Dad died. I can see Cole forcing himself not to flinch, trying to be polite, trying not to show fear.
The last time Willard got this close to someone I loved, I was too young to do anything about it. I couldn’t stop him. I didn’t know enough, wasn’t strong enough.
Now I am.
My free hand curls into a fist. “If he lays one finger on them, he’s dead.”
“Bailey.” Keller’s voice slices through. “The agent’s close. If Willard tries anything, she’ll be there before you can even blink. Don’t do something stupid.”
I force a breath in. Out. My chest still feels like it’s shrinking around my heart.
“It’s an order,” Keller’s voice is like steel.
“Fine,” I lie. I have no intention to obey.
COLE
Noah wants to be carried.
His balloon bumps against my cheek, squeaking with each step, like it’s trying to send me a message. I crumble under pressure, I want to tell the balloon. Which, frankly, underlines my point.
Willard opens the passenger door with an overly bright smile. “Hop in and I’ll drive you home.”
Something’s wrong. My instincts are screaming. He’s too keen. Why is he so insistent on helping us when he doesn’t even like me?
His hand rests lightly on the door frame, almost blocking me in. My pulse pounds in my ears.
No. The thought slams into me, sharp, but finally — a decision. If I step into that car, Noah steps in too. And once the doors close, there’s no undoing it. No running, no excuses. Just me, strapped into Willard’s world, with Noah in the back seat like leverage.
So no. I won’t step in, and whatever comes next, I’ll find a way to deal with it.
I’m just about to turn around, Noah tightly in my lap, ready to run if need be, when a bright, musical voice cuts through the tension: “Cole Hudson! As I live and breathe!”
A woman I’ve never seen in my life sweeps toward us with the confidence of someone who belongs. She’s all sunny smiles, light Southern drawl, eyes warm and disarming.
“It’s been ages! You don’t remember me, do you? Shame on you! I’m Kate, your… second cousin, from your mama’s side!”
Second cousin? Yeah, right.
She hugs me before I can react, perfume soft and sweet. Her lips barely move when she whispers, “Play along.”
My heart stutters. “Kate! Wow — you… changed your hair.” She laughs, bright and easy, the kind of laugh that melts suspicion. Scatters the dark clouds.
Willard clears his throat, clearly trying to cover his annoyance. “Well, whenever this family reunion’s over, I can give you that ride—”
“Oh, no need!” Kate interrupts, honey-sweet. “I’m more than happy to take Cole and this handsome little fella home. In fact, I was just about to invite myself over for a cup of tea. We have so much catching up to do.”
“What a great idea!” I say, grinning like that’s something I say every day. I’ve never lied so easily in my life. Noah’s watching us, big eyes trusting, and Willard’s watching too, eyes narrowing, waiting for the smallest crack.
For what feels like forever, his eyes linger on me, sharp and calculating, but finally he nods. “Suit yourself.”
He touches the brim of his hat, steps inside his car and slams the door.