Chapter 13 #2
His frenzied search returns to my face, his hot, wet palms cupping my face. “You’re bleeding.”
The switch from hot to soft is so unexpected that I relax in his hold, keeping eye contact and giving his wrists a reassuring squeeze. “I’m okay. I’m not shot.”
Adrenaline that had been leaking from my body halts with a clog of fear. “What about you? Did you get hit?”
I do a quick scan of his body, unable to tell blood from spaghetti sauce. Red covers his chest, his lip bleeding, and one eye’s starting to swell.
“I’m not hit,” he says.
I sag with relief as he digs his fingers into my hair, tipping my head up.
Stone’s eyes grow hooded, but it doesn’t contain the spreading wildfire. His fingers stroke the side of my face and the sharp pain that follows tells me he’s found a cut. “They hurt you.”
Stone says it so flatly and with such certainty that I stiffen even as he helps pull me into a sit.
“Stone, don’t go anywhere near him again.” When Stone doesn’t acknowledge me and stares down the aisle where the motorcycle couple took their exit, I repeat, “That man just fired a gun in a crowded store to win a fistfight with you. He’s reckless and dangerous. Stay away from him, okay? William ?”
My use of his birth name causes him to blink and come back to me, the depths of his eyes, like black oil on blue fire, ebbing into smoldering embers.
“There you are.” I breathe out in relief.
Stone frowns at me, confused. “What are you talking about? I didn’t go anywhere.”
Yes, you did. You transformed into an uncontrollable avenger right in front of me.
Sometimes I forget Stone doesn’t have to reach too far inside himself to find the personality he’s looking for. It’s all there, a tempest of emotions he keeps at bay until his patience thins and he’s called upon to use them.
Without voicing my fear, I take his hand and come to a stand. His eyes won’t leave my face.
“You sure you’re all right? You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?”
“No. Just slipped.” I take a moment to scan the detritus around us and I’m about to voice my dismay when Maisy comes storming around the corner.
“Police and ambulance are on their way. Is anybody hurt? Everybody okay?” she asks.
Her voice draws the ones that hid behind display items and fled into the storage room back into the light. The ones I spot seem stunned but fine.
“Good.” Maisy puts her hands on her ample hips before her stare beelines to us. “And you two. What in the hell was that?”
“That man was part of the White Tigers,” I say before Stone can open his mouth. “He was looking for trouble.”
Maisy squints at my explanation, weighing the truth of my statement.
My reputation precedes me, because she says, “Fair enough, though they try to keep their antics out of my business most days. Seeing him must’ve set them off.
” She jerks her head at Stone. “You should know better than to engage with them.”
Stone gives her an aw shucks dip of his chin. “Lost my head for a moment, ma’am.”
“Literally,” she retorts, having none of his charm. The sound of sirens redirects her attention. “I’ll let them in. Nobody goes anywhere until you give your statements. Those fuckers damaged my property and nearly killed someone.”
It’s not like Maisy to swear. She worked her tail off to buy this building from the previous owner and be granted a business loan.
She converted it from an old bread factory to what it is today, and nothing like this has ever happened on her watch.
I bet she feels as violated as I do after being attacked by a woman who started this whole thing, then walked away scott-free.
The sheriff approaches us, his mouth grim under his hat.
“Sheriff Miles,” I greet, just barely resisting the urge to lower my head and shuffle my feet like a chastened kid.
His square face and broad frame screamed authority back when he was a rookie police officer dropping off his kid at elementary school. As sheriff of Falcon Haven, he essentially holds the keys to the town and often meets any malfeasance under his supervision with the highest punishment.
“Mr. Stalinski,” his tobacco-laced voice grinds as he considers Stone. “Been a while since I had you under my thumb.”
“Sheriff.” Stone tips his head. “I apologize for all of this.”
“Don’t be sayin’ sorry to me, son. You owe Maisy that and then some. From what I’ve gathered so far, this all began with a selfie.”
Stone rubs his chin. “I don’t like cameras.”
“Uh-huh.” Sheriff Miles’s flat gaze shows just how much he appreciates Stone’s excuse. “I liked you better on the other side of the country. How long are you here for?”
“Originally? A couple of weeks. Since finding out about my mother, as long as it takes.”
The corners of the sheriff’s lips soften ever so slightly.
“Yes. Rome told me what’s been going on.
With that in mind, I’ll let you off with a warning and your promise of a sworn statement over what occurred here today.
I’ll do everything in my power to track down the man responsible, but we all know how OMGs work. ”
Outlaw motorcycle gangs. The White Tigers had a nice agreement with the former sheriff, but once Sheriff Miles took over, that contract was severed. As a result, the gang has become more trouble within town and less agreeable to cleaning up their messes.
“We’ll stay behind and help clean up,” I say, picking up Maisy’s discarded broom. “We won’t leave until it’s done. Right, Stone?”
Stone picks up the spray bottle of cleaning solution. “Least I can do.”
“Uh-huh,” Sheriff Miles repeats. “You’ll have to do a bit more convincing than that.
Mr. Branson over there told me you threw the first punch.
Don’t think I’m so small town I’m not aware of what kind of mess you’ve gotten yourself into in California.
I won’t be having the same shenanigans in my town, do you understand?
If you have beef with the White Tigers, piss them off on their turf and stay out of ours. ”
“Yes, sir,” Stone says. His muscles are tense with contained frustration, but he says nothing more, instead unleashing his irritation on cleaning up the broken jars and overturned display cases.
Sheriff talks to both of us separately along with the other witnesses, but I don’t hold out a lot of hope that anyone will meet swift punishment.
My worry centers on Stone as I watch his jerky movements and locked jaw throughout the cleanup process.
Soon, Maisy joins in as well as other regulars and within a few hours, we have the Merc back to how it should be.
Maisy dismisses us with a wave of her hand, her expression more annoyed than forgiving as she watches Stone leave the store.
It’s not lost on me that Stone has taken shit from almost everybody he knows since coming home. I’m half convinced he’ll declare a fuck this moment and fly back to the sunny California hills he came from, but he takes each insult with a clip to the chin and forges on.
If I wasn’t battling my own bitterness against him, I’d almost respect it.
I’m torn from my thoughts when he comes to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk. “Damn.”
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“I arrived here with Devon. I sure as hell don’t know where he fucked off to when all this went down, and it looks like he escaped with the truck.”
I dig my keys out of my purse. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Stone regards me. “Are you sure?”
“Don’t make me regret it,” I snap, but one look at his red-stained chest and I’m back to when I thought he was covered in his own blood. I say in a gentler tone, “We’re going the same way now, remember?”
His gaze softens for a moment, too, as if he’s recalling the same terrifying seconds after the gun went off. “But you have clients—or patients—to attend to, right?”
I shake my head. “I called my supervisor and explained the situation. I’ve got another nurse covering my afternoon appointments for me.”
Stone’s eyes give an infinitesimal flare. “I should call my people and tell them what happened. No doubt something will hit social media if it hasn’t already.”
The chasm between us is wide, but his statement makes it so much deeper. I have a boss to contend with. He has a world full of ‘people’.
“I’m supposed to be here on the down-low,” he says as we walk to my car. “Aaron won’t be happy I’m involved in a minor felony.”
I snort. “Forget what your Aaron wants to do,” I say as I press my key fob and the car beeps. “Mrs. Stalinski’s going to kill us.”