Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
dani
This pitcher of soda wasn’t going to do it.
I was on edge and needed an actual drink to help me relax.
We were at the bar called Last Call, and it had only been an hour since I walked through the door, but I was already itching to leave.
Miles had ordered a pitcher for the table, and since I was burning through the last of my money, I accepted the drink since I watched the bartender pour it.
The poor woman behind the bar was working hard with all these new people here.
The place was packed and buzzing with tension.
Most of the tables were full of interns like me while the barstools were filled with what I guessed were regulars.
They were all sneaking glances at us, their features a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.
With how small this place was, I knew people would notice us immediately, but I wasn’t enjoying their outright stares.
“What about you, Dani?” Miles asked, dragging me back into the conversation at the table. “What’s your story?”
The other two guys and three women at the table were staring at me expectantly, with curious smiles.
Even though they’d all introduced themselves when I’d gotten here, I couldn’t remember any of their names.
Blame it on exhaustion or nerves, but my brain wasn’t retaining anything which was the complete opposite of how I usually was.
Everyone had been talking about their past and how they ended up here.
“I needed to pay off my student loans,” I said, plastering a polite smile on my face. “A year of living here seems worth it.”
“I think we can all agree on that,” the red head woman said with a laugh, clearly trying to break me out of my shell. “What did you major in?”
“Forensic psychology,” I answered, knowing there was no point in hiding it. This was the kind of place where it would only take days for everyone to learn about the others.
Miles raised an eyebrow. “PhD?”
I shook my head. “I have my Bachelors and Masters. Still enough to do the work I want. But I’ll be going back for my PhD someday.”
The redheaded woman gazed at me with new appreciation. “So, you’re like a profiler?”
“Kind of,” I said, bouncing my foot against the wooden floor. “I help law enforcement with interrogations and do psychological assessments on suspects or people who have already committed crimes.”
“I’m surprised they need someone like you here,” Miles piped up. “This town is so small. I doubt there’s violent crime here.”
I didn’t respond even though I had been thinking the same thing when the offer came. It didn’t matter to me either way. I could spend the next year doing paperwork, and it would still be worth it. I took another sip of soda, my stomach twisting when Miles asked his next question.
“Where’d you go to school?”
I swallowed through the lump in my throat. “New York.”
“Is that where you’re from?” Miles asked, not hiding that he was pressing for more information about me.
“Yes,” I lied smoothly, having no intention of telling them my home city.
“What made you choose that career?” the redhead asked.
“It’s the only thing that interests me.”
My answer came out automatically because it was the only thing I said whenever I was asked that question.
What else was I supposed to say? That I was the only survivor of the Sorority Killing that made national news?
That the man who thought he’d killed me plagued my sleep ever since that night?
And one of the questions that played on repeat in my head was why. Why would people kill for pleasure?
It was the entire reason I chose to become a forensic psychologist. I became obsessed with understanding the minds of the killers, and I still was.
Because the men who wrecked my innocence were never arrested.
The case was still open, and everything I’d worked toward was to find them.
It was torture to lay in my bed every night, wondering if they were going to come and finish the job.
The amount of attention I received after it happened was unbearable.
I was getting calls daily, and there were press camped in front of my parents’ house.
My face had been splashed across the news and online all over the country.
The first year or two I’d hidden away, staying out of the public eye as much as possible.
My parents got me into therapy and did everything they could to help.
I legally changed my last name, dyed my hair, and forced myself to go back into society.
I moved out of state, and started college, taking on a huge class load so I could catch up on the time I’d missed.
The attention I got nearly sent me back into hiding, but as the years went on, it got easier to blend in.
People never forgot what happened, but when the case went cold, everyone found other things to focus on, and I was thankful the attention wasn’t on me anymore.
I’d worked for the last decade to find the men who made my life a personal hell.
“Profile me,” Miles said, pulling me from my thoughts. I glanced at him, and he shot me a smile. “I haven’t told my story yet. Can you figure me out?”
I chuckled, used to being asked that when people found out what I went to school for. And I was good at it. Figuring people out made me more confident about being in public. Everyone was suspicious, which made creating relationships with people difficult.
“Please, Dani,” Miles pressed, leaning his forearms on the table. “I’m curious what you can guess about me.”
“It’s not guessing,” I told him before taking another sip of soda. The others around the table spoke up, urging me to do it.
“Next round is on me if you can figure me out,” Miles promised, giving me a wink.
I took a deep breath, my eyes staying on him.
“You told me you were from Florida. You’re a surfer and lived everyday wearing shorts and flipflops.
You’re outgoing and social, but not a partier.
You’re not married, and you don’t have a girlfriend, but you’re looking for a woman to settle down with.
The internship you’re here for is at the medical clinic, not as a doctor, but as a nurse or nurse practitioner.
You have no interest in professional sports and would rather be reading a book than watching a game. ”
Miles stared at me in surprise before he let out a laugh. “How the hell did you figure all that out?”
I raised an eyebrow in response, staying silent.
It was all in the details, and I was always watching and filing away the information from people around me.
Like how there was a game on the TV above the bar, and Miles hadn’t looked at it once.
Or how he had a stack of books in his bag on the bus.
One of those being about medical practices.
How uncomfortable he was in a suit and had a deep tan from spending most of his time outside.
I watched Miles, my guard going up when he scooted his chair closer to mine, and he leaned over to whisper in my ear. “I guess my interest in you hasn’t gone unnoticed since you figured out I’m not married.”
“You’re clearly not shy either,” I muttered, pulling away from him. “Sorry to disappoint you, but I have no interest in finding love while I’m here.”
His grin faltered for a split second before he recovered. “How about we start as friends, then?”
“Sure,” I answered quietly, my heart starting to pound. I pushed my chair back to stand up. “I’m going to get a drink.”
“Let me. I told you I’d get the next round.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. I’ll be right back.”
I hurried away before Miles could argue and headed toward the corner of the bar counter.
The woman who had been serving drinks all night was on the other side of the bar, busy with customers, and I blew out a breath, attempting to calm down.
It had been forever since I’d been in a setting like this.
It helped that no one here knew of my past, but I’d kept to myself for so long that interacting with others on a social level had me on edge.
My chest panged with sadness. Miles and everyone else here were excited and happy, which was something I couldn’t share.
I couldn’t even remember the last time I was excited about something.
Every time I tried, my memories would take me hostage and drown out the new experiences I craved.
I just wanted to feel. Maybe I could use this year to do that.
A shadow fell over the bar, and I kept my head down, digging in my pocket, and pulling out the only five-dollar bill I had.
I set the cash down on the counter. “Give me the strongest drink that this can buy please—”
My words caught in my throat when I lifted my gaze to see the person in front of me was not the woman I’d been expecting.
I met his green eyes first, and the blank stare he was giving me felt like I was looking in a mirror.
His black hair was longer on top than on the sides, and short stubble was on his jaw as if he didn’t shave this morning.
His nose was slightly crooked, making me guess it had been broken at least once.
My stare drifted down to his crossed arms to see his skin covered with colorful tattoos.
A frown that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his full lips, deepened when I looked at his face again.
A foreign emotion stole my breath when a flush traveled under my skin, my stomach fluttering in a way I’d never experienced before. No man had ever elicited such a physical reaction from me. He was hot, there was no denying that. In a dangerous I-should-seriously-stay-away-from-him kind of way.
“Dark or clear?” he grated out, his piercing stare staying on me.
“What?” I sputtered out, silently cursing myself for losing my head over a guy. I cleared my throat, straightening my spine as he pressed his palms on the ledge of the counter, and leaned closer.