Chapter 20
Briana
I should’ve guessed Pol would call the sheriff the second he dropped me off. But what choice did I have?
Doctor Herman pipes up in my head, his typical annoying persona, reasonable and calm. “Be honest, Briana. You could’ve waited for an Uber. You wanted the lawman to come find you.”
I mutter, “I honestly thought he’d help me take down the stalker, not treat me like some reckless wannabe warrior.”
God, I am such an idiot.
When we reach the gravel lot, I climb into the passenger seat. Becca sits behind me, her chin on my shoulder. Her master settles behind the wheel, jaw clenched, eyes forward.
The only adult in the truck, I go for it. “I’m sorry I jumped your bones last night. Won’t happen again.”
He snorts. “If anyone should apologize, it’s me—and I’m not. Best sex of my life.”
“Well.” My perfected harrumph is way better than his. “At least you enjoyed it.”
His eyes flick toward me. “Don’t tell me you didn’t.”
“It was… alright.” I guess I shouldn’t’ve poked the bear.
Dark gaze unreadable, he throws the truck into park, hops out, then yanks my door open. “Kiss me. Prove you didn’t like it.”
“Challenge accepted.” Jumping down, I grab the back of his neck, determined to end it after planting a fat juicy one on his lips.
The second I taste coffee laced with spearmint, my plan melts. The warm, wild, highly addictive kiss takes on a life of its own.
One of us groans—not sure who—but it’s the starting gun of a race we never meant to compete in.
His hard, hungry body pins me to the truck. Possessive, he tugs my shirt loose of my cargo pants. His fly’s halfway down when—
His mobile rings.
Eyes wide, mouths open, we freeze. His cheeks flush Rudolph-nosed red. I’m pretty sure mine are worse. Swinging his truck door wide, I dive inside and bang it shut.
Ohmygod-ohmygod-ohmygod.
Dr. Herman chuckles. “Play with fire, expect to be—”
“Shut up.” While I spiral down the rabbit hole of self-analysis, my soon-to-be ex-lover answers the call.
White-knuckling his device, his neck muscles pulse as his scowl deepens. Once he hangs up, he drops behind the wheel, then slams the door. His grim expression says this whole mess is my fault.
“Where should I drop you off?” His clipped, tight voice tells me he’s pissed.
Fine. So am I.
“My brother’s hotel.” Hopefully, my chauffeur knows where Pol is staying—because I sure as hell am not going to ask.
He starts the truck, muttering under his breath. Soon, it’s much louder. “Know who that was? The FBI. They gave me twenty-four hours to prove you’re innocent. You just blew it.”
“No, you did. We could’ve stayed in the woods—tracked the guy together.”
“Sue me. I wanted to keep you safe.” His words melt the softer part of my psyche.
The warrior, however, bristles. “Safe?” A bitter laugh bursts from me. “From whom? The killer—or you? In case your intel missed it, I have Olympic-level shooting skills. He was a dead man walking.”
Leaning in, I pitch my plea deeper. “It’s not too late. We can go back.”
“There is no we, Briana.” Voice flat and final, he flicks a glance over the cupholder. “Stay out of these woods. I mean it.”
Of all the fucking… Rather than unleash my fury, I purse my lips until they hurt.
The silence between us thickens as he pulls into the hotel lot. In response to his hard yank on the parking brake, I slam the door behind me.
As he drives off without a backward glance, my ribcage constricts.
Fuck it. Throat raw, tears welling, I pace in front of the sliding glass. Inhale. Exhale. It’s a shame humiliation doesn’t come with enough ketchup to choke down my pride. I lower my lids, leaving my knapsack at my feet, then tap Pol’s contact number.
“Put down your weapon!”
What the— My arms snap up as my eyes pop open.
Turning ever-so-slowly, I count a dozen Vermont State Police troopers. They crouch behind cruisers, weapons trained on me.
“Jesus. It’s a phone.” Shouting, I pivot my elbows so they can identify the device. “Don’t shoot.”
“Bree? What the hell’s going on?” My brother’s voice crackles from the balcony above my head.
While I stare down the barrels, Apollo gasps. “I see them. Don’t move—I’m coming down.”
“K.” Holding my breath, sweat dripping down my face, I dare not twitch.
Contradictory orders ricochet off the building.
“Take the shot!”
“Don’t move!”
“On your knees!”
“Drop the gun now!”
My every instinct screams run, speak, do something—but those choices could get me killed.
Lids scrunched, I pray.
Seconds later, an irate male voice rises over the chaos. “What the fuck is going on here?”
Kade?
As I crack open my eyes, he stomps across the lot, fury radiating off him.
“Stop right there.” Much like Smokey-the-Bear directing traffic, one of the guys snaps out two flat palms. “We’re executing a warrant.”
“More like executing my witness,” the sheriff snaps. “She’s holding a freaking cell phone, for chrissakes.”
He turns on the others, voice thundering. “Are you stupid as well as blind? You fire one bullet, and I swear to God, I’ll arrest every last one of you for murder. There will be no death by cop in my county. Understood?”
They glare for what seems like an eternity. Behind me, the lobby door slides open. As air whooshes out of the building, a strong arm yanks me inside.
For the first time since I was little, I turn, sobbing into my brother’s broad chest.
My lawyer, fists curled tightly, strides in front of all the raised weapons and holds out his phone. “I’d like to see where this alleged warrant gives you the right to execute my client without due process.”
He taps the screen. “By the way, I’ve been streaming all of this. You’re famous now. You will make your families extremely proud—especially those with daughters.”
From behind a door, the guy in charge shouts, “Get back. She’s a killer.”
My brother leans in, whispering, “Don’t say anything, okay?”
I nod. Too scared to speak, my thoughts race.
I now believe they wanted to kill me for sure. How convenient for them, ya think? No charges. No trial. No mention of a lunatic in the forest scaring off tourists. How did they learn where I was?
Only Kade knew.
Crap, did he set me up to die?
Reading my mind, my only protector steps toward Mr. Ito, “The FBI said we had twenty-four hours.”
The fat-ass cop next to them chuckles. “Judge Holman’s a friend. He agreed—gettin' this woman behind bars was imperative.”
I'm thinking this Smokey is somewhat familiar. Too damn familiar. My spidey senses tingle.
Whoever he is, his eyes wander. He wants me dead.