Chapter 10
ALEC
I can’t decide who I’m angrier with.
That piece of shit asshole who came after Hazel, or myself for not anticipating something like this.
When Hazel asked about going in to work, I should have said no.
I should have been firm about it, instead of caving the moment I caught a glimpse of tears in her eyes.
I should have come up with another way for her to make money in the interim; a loan, doing admin work remotely for my company, anything other than allowing her to go back to Blissful Brews.
Instinct told me to keep her on the GMG property, but I allowed my emotions to make the decision instead.
I thought bringing Hazel to work would make her happy. And I prioritized that over everything else.
Instead, she was traumatized all over again.
“There was no indication of this kind of attack,” Enzo reasoned during our emergency meeting afterwards. “The brakes, the break-in; those were targeted solely on Hazel. Staging an attack during the afternoon, in public, with multiple victims… that’s a much more aggressive approach.”
“Whoever’s behind this, they’re getting desperate,” Knox added. “My guess is, the pressure’s on. So they’re willing to take more risks.”
We were all seated around the conference table in our headquarters, a newly-built barn not far from Enzo’s house. Casual meetings we hold in his dining room. But when it comes to more serious matters, like someone busting into Blissful Brews with flashbangs and a loaded shotgun, we meet at HQ.
Not that there was much to discuss, given that the attacker refused to talk. If it had just been me and him, I would have used more creative methods of interrogation, like Ace’s team does out in Portland. But with an audience and the police on the way, I couldn’t.
Well. I could have. But it might have resulted in my going to jail for assault. Which, in hindsight, might have been worth it. Because at least then we’d know if that piece of shit was working alone, or if he still has accomplices out there. We might even know why he targeted Hazel.
Instead, we’re stuck waiting for the police to interrogate the asshole—Jacob Henning, according to his license—and hoping they can get something useful out of him.
“I talked to Quill,” Enzo assured me towards the end of the meeting, “and he said he’d try to get me in to talk to the guy. If not that, at least I’ll be able to watch the interrogation. So that’s something.”
Something, yes.
Is it good enough? I’m not sure.
Maybe Henning was acting alone. Maybe this will be the end of it. Maybe Hazel will be able to go back to her normal life again.
Assuming she’ll ever feel safe after all of this.
Dammit.
I should have done a better job of protecting her.
Once the meeting ended—with more questions and not a whole lot of answers—Gage joined me as I headed outside.
“I felt guilty, too,” he told me. “When I brought Rory back to her house and she was nearly shot, I blamed myself for agreeing to take her there. But I realized something later. Do you know what it was?”
“What?” I grumbled, not feeling much in the mood for reassurances.
“It wasn’t all my decision. Even after I explained the risks, Rory wanted to go. And I had to respect that. Because she’s an adult who can make her own decisions.” Gage turned to look at me. “I know it sucks. And you feel guilty. But Hazel wanted to go to work. It was her choice, too.”
Gage isn’t wrong. But that doesn’t make me feel better. Not when I keep seeing Hazel’s tortured gaze, so filled with fear and confusion and guilt. Not when I know she’s beating herself up over this, taking on the blame for Wendy’s injury and the damage to the bar.
It’s why I hated leaving her at the cabin once we got back to the property.
But the team needed to meet, and I wasn’t about to have Hazel sit through a recap of the violence she’d experienced firsthand.
So I dropped her off at the cabin, promising to come back as soon as I could.
I was going to ask Winter to stay with Hazel until I returned, but Hazel insisted she’d rather be alone.
“After I shower, maybe I’ll call Jess,” she told me. “Don’t ask Winter to come over. I’ll be fine.”
But the closer I get to her cabin, the more worried I get.
It’s not that I don’t think Hazel’s strong. I know she is.
Honestly, I think she’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.
Getting past the trauma of what happened with her ex, moving to Bliss for a fresh start, creating a life here—that alone would be more than most people could do.
But on top of that, she’s shown a bravery that rivals that of anyone I served with.
Breaking the windshield of her car when it went into the water, using the pepper spray on the intruder, dragging Angel to a safe hiding spot in the kitchen and keeping both of them safe…
Still. She might be strong, but she’s vulnerable, too. And that’s why I hate the thought of Hazel sitting alone in her cabin, no doubt going over the events at the bar over and over again.
My foot presses down on the gas, urging the truck to go faster. My headlights cut through the dark, illuminating the dirt road. Maybe a hundred feet ahead, a deer emerges from the woods, its eyes flashing bright as it freezes momentarily. Then it darts away, leaving the road empty again.
A glance at the clock on the dashboard says it’s not quite eight o’clock.
If things had gone normally today, Hazel would still be working her shift.
She’d be enjoying herself, chatting with all the regulars and gifting them with her magical smile.
By ten, we’d be headed back here to spend the rest of the evening together.
I might have even offered to stay the night on her couch like I’ve been contemplating for the last several days.
I still could. After I make her something to eat—because I’m sure she didn’t eat anything while I was at the meeting—I’ll ask if she wants me to stay.
On the couch, on the floor in her bedroom, separated by pillows on her bed, with her tucked snugly against me, wrapped in my arms; whatever she wants, I’ll give it to her.
Despite the grim situation, a lightness fills my chest.
I’ve never felt like this about someone before. Like I’d do anything to make her happy. Like everything is just better when she’s around.
Like I can see a future with her.
We’ll get through this, I tell myself. I’ll do a better job protecting her. I’ll support Hazel however she needs. And when it’s all over and she’s safe, we’ll explore a future together. A future not just measured in days or weeks, but months or years. Maybe even a lifetime.
Is it crazy to think this way when we’ve only started dating? When I’ve avoided relationships like the plague for years? Or is everything falling into place as it’s supposed to, like my mom keeps promising?
“You say you don’t want a relationship,” she always tells me with that same knowing look, “but you will. When the time is right, you will.”
I thought it was just wishful thinking on her part. But maybe she was right.
As I slow to a stop in front of Hazel’s cabin, my mind is half in Vermont and half in Boston, introducing Hazel to my parents.
My mom would make her famous baked ziti with garlic bread and Caesar salad, and we’d have tiramisu from the Italian bakery around the corner for dessert.
After dinner, my mom would probably haul out the baby pictures like she did whenever my sister brought home a serious boyfriend.
Pushing thoughts of the future aside, I shut off the ignition and hop from the truck.
In long, hurried strides, I head up the little path to the porch and knock at the front door.
While I wait for her to answer, I mentally prepare myself for anything.
Hazel pink-eyed and teary. Perhaps pale and silent.
Maybe she’s still on the phone with Jess.
Or maybe she’ll open the door looking just like normal.
Of all the possibilities I consider, Hazel not answering at all isn’t one of them.
I wait a good thirty seconds before knocking again.
And again, there’s no answer.
I ring the doorbell.
Nothing.
Bands of worry wrap around my chest, binding tighter by the second.
Maybe she’s in the shower, and that’s why she can’t answer. That would be a completely reasonable explanation.
But my gut is telling me differently. It’s telling me something is wrong.
Walking to one window, then the other, I peer inside, but see nothing. Just an empty living room with one light glowing on an end table.
I knock again. And again.
Then I try calling her.
Nothing.
Something is wrong. I know it.
Though I would never just let myself inside in normal circumstances, these are far from normal. So I open the app that controls the security for all the cabins and bypass the locks. Once they’re unlocked, I open the door and call out, “Hazel. Are you okay?”
Still nothing.
I start working my way through the rooms on the first floor, keeping my voice low as I call Hazel’s name. With each empty room, my worry grows bigger. The sick feeling in my gut gets worse.
Just as I’m about to head upstairs to the bedrooms, something catches my eye in the kitchen. Or rather, beyond the window that faces the backyard, where a small patio and seating area are set up.
Not movement, but a shape. One I don’t remember being there before.
Alarm shoots through me. Could someone have gotten onto the property? But how? With all the security, we should have been alerted of a breach immediately.
My Sig is in the truck, but I have my Ka-Bar in my pocket, so I pull it out as I head to the door that leads outside. Adrenaline surges and my heart beats faster. Terrible scenarios flash through my mind.
No. She has to be okay. I was only gone for an hour. The property is safe.
On a held breath, I open the door. Stepping outside, I glance around the small patio, all my muscles tensed and ready to strike.
Then I see her.