Chapter 16
Lucas
I'm on my third cup of coffee and it's not even noon, but sleep hasn't been an option since Evan's text last night. Maya's curled up at the corner table with her laptop, dark circles under her eyes telling me she didn't rest any better than I did. Every time the door chimes, I watch her tense.
This stops now.
"Jake," I call to my bartender as he preps for the lunch rush. "I need you to handle things for a couple hours. I've got some errands to run."
"Sure thing, boss." Jake glances toward Maya, then back at me with understanding. "Take your time. We've got it covered."
My first stop is Henderson Security Systems, where Tom Henderson—Mrs. Henderson's son and the only tech expert within fifty miles—listens to my requirements with the serious attention of someone who's heard about Evan Pierce's escalating behavior.
"Full surveillance package," I tell him, spreading the bar's floor plans across his desk. "Cameras covering every entrance, the parking area, and the apartment upstairs. Motion sensors. The works."
"This is about Maya's situation?" Tom's fingers are already flying across his computer, pulling up equipment specs. "My mom's been worried sick about her."
"He sent her another message yesterday. Referenced the festival." I lean forward, needing him to understand the urgency. "Tom, this guy isn't going away quietly. Maya needs to feel safe, and I need to know if he comes within a hundred yards of her."
"Say no more." Tom's expression hardens. "I've got a daughter myself. Let me design something that'll make Fort Knox jealous."
The cost estimate he shows me would normally make me wince. It's a significant chunk of my savings, money I'd been setting aside for bar improvements. But watching Maya flinch at shadows is worth every penny.
"When can you install it?"
"Today. I'll call my crew now."
Next stop is the sheriff's office, where Morrison listens to my concerns with the weary patience of a man who's dealt with stalkers before.
"Here's the thing, Lucas," he says, leaning back in his chair. "Pierce has been served with the charges, but he's not in custody. Technically, he hasn't violated any court orders by sending that text—his lawyer's probably already claiming it was someone else, unknown number and all."
"So we just wait for him to escalate further?"
"We document everything. Keep records. Keep building a case.
" Morrison's expression is sympathetic but realistic.
"I've got patrol cars doing extra sweeps past the bar and Harper's house, and I'm putting the word out to neighboring counties.
But you know as well as I do, a piece of paper isn't going to stop a determined man. "
By the time I get back to the bar, Tom's already there with two technicians, threading cables and mounting cameras. Maya watches from her table, laptop forgotten, as they transform my space into something that feels more like a bunker than a neighborhood bar.
"Lucas." She approaches while Tom explains the monitoring system. "This is too much. You can't spend your life savings protecting me from some psycho. Harper's house already has good security."
"I know Harper's got you covered at night," I say, keeping my voice calm but letting her hear the steel underneath. "But you spend your days here. This is where you work, where you feel comfortable. I need to know you're safe here too."
"But what if—"
"No what-ifs." I turn to face her fully, letting her see the determination in my eyes. "You're part of my life now. That means I protect you everywhere you are, whatever it costs."
Tom clears his throat. "System'll be live in two hours.
Mobile app lets you monitor everything from your phone.
" He hands me a tablet showing multiple camera angles of the bar.
"Anyone comes near this place, you'll know about it.
And I'll sync it with Harper's system so there's no gaps in coverage. "
Maya stares at the screens, and I see the moment it hits her—how much our lives have changed, how much danger has followed her home. But I also see relief.
Word spreads faster than wildfire in Willowbridge, and by the time the lunch crowd arrives, it's clear everyone knows about the threat. Mrs. Henderson settles at her usual table with a determined expression.
"Lucas, dear," she calls over, loud enough for half the bar to hear. "Harold and I want you to know we'll be keeping an eye on things. Anyone suspicious comes around, we'll be calling Sheriff Morrison faster than you can say 'restraining order.'"
"Appreciate that, Mrs. H." I pour her usual iced tea, grateful for the support even as I worry about civilians getting involved.
Jake leans over the bar, voice low. "Boss, Tommy Rodriguez stopped by while you were out. Said his nephew works security at the casino up in Redmond, wants to know if you need extra hands for the festival."
"And Betty from the diner called," Steph adds, appearing with a tray of empties. "She's organizing a phone tree. Anyone spots this Pierce character, the whole town knows in five minutes."
I look around the bar, taking in the faces of people I've known my entire life. The Peterson twins are huddled in animated conversation, probably planning their own form of vigilante justice. Mr. Wilson keeps glancing toward Maya's table with a protective expression on his face.
"They're treating me like a family member," Maya says quietly, appearing at my elbow. "They're being so protective."
The wonder in her voice does something to me. "Maya, they’re treating you like family because you belong here. It just took you coming home to realize it."
She leans against the bar, watching as Mrs. Patterson approaches her table with what looks like a casserole dish and a determined smile. "I brought you some of my famous chicken and dumplings," she calls over. "Stress eating is perfectly acceptable in situations like this."
Maya thanks her, clearly overwhelmed.
"She made you food," I observe, fighting a smile.
"She's not the only one." Maya gestures toward her table, which is now covered with enough casseroles, baked goods, and comfort food to feed a small army. "I think half the town has decided I need carbohydrates to survive this crisis."
"Small-town logic," Jake grins. "Can't solve your problems with an empty stomach."
The afternoon crowd continues the pattern.
Every regular who comes in makes a point of stopping by Maya's table, offering support, sharing information, or simply letting her know they're watching out for her.
By closing time, she's got enough food to last a week and a list of phone numbers longer than my arm.
"I never had this," Maya says as we clean up, her voice soft with wonder. "In Seattle, I could disappear for weeks and no one would notice. Here, I get threatened and the entire town rallies."
"That's what community means." I stack chairs, watching her carefully package leftover food with the kind of reverence usually reserved for sacred objects. "Question is, how does it feel?"
She's quiet for a long moment, considering. "Overwhelming. Wonderful. Terrifying."
I move closer, unable to resist touching her face. "You belong here."
But even as I say the words, my phone buzzes with a security alert. Unknown vehicle circling the block for the third time in an hour.
Time to see if our new system works.
"Maya." I keep my voice calm, controlled, even as every muscle in my body goes rigid. "I need you to go into the kitchen for a moment."
She looks at me, immediately reading the tension in my posture. "What's wrong?"
I pull up the security app on my phone, and there it is—clear as day on camera three. A dark sedan with tinted windows, moving slowly past the bar for the fourth time.
"Son of a bitch." The words slip out before I can stop them.
"Lucas?" Maya's voice is smaller now, fear creeping back in despite the afternoon of community support.
"Call Morrison," I tell Jake, not taking my eyes off the phone screen. "Tell him Evan Pierce is here. Dark sedan, license plate..." I squint at the image, but the angle's wrong and the plate is partially obscured. "Can't make it out."
Maya appears at my shoulder, and I feel her go stiff when she sees the screen. "That's him. Same car."
The sedan slows as it passes the front of the bar, and through the camera, I can just make out a figure in the driver's seat. Male, the right build, but the windows are too dark to see his face clearly.
"He's not even trying to hide anymore," Maya whispers. "He wants me to know it’s him again."
Jake's already on the phone with dispatch, his voice urgent but professional. "Yeah, it's the stalking case... Yes... No, he's here now, circling The Willow Tap... Dark sedan, can't see the plates clearly..."
The car completes another pass, and this time it slows to a crawl directly in front of our main entrance. For a heart-stopping moment, I think he might actually stop, might try to come inside. My hand moves instinctively toward the baseball bat I keep behind the bar.
But then the sedan picks up speed and disappears around the corner.
"Sheriff's on his way," Jake reports, hanging up. "Five minutes out."
I'm already pulling up the camera feeds from the other angles, trying to track which direction the car went. "There—camera six picked him up heading toward the highway. Looks like he's leaving town."
"For now," Maya says, and the defeated tone in her voice makes something twist in my chest.
Sheriff Morrison arrives exactly four minutes later, his patrol car pulling up with lights flashing but no sirens. He's out of the vehicle and through our door before the engine stops running.
"Show me what you've got," he says without preamble.
I hand him the tablet, and he scrolls through the footage. "Good angles. Clear timestamps. Can't make out the plates, but the vehicle description matches what Pierce was driving in Seattle."
"So what now?" I ask, though I already know the answer from his expression.
"Now we document it. Add it to the file. Keep building the case." Morrison's frustration is evident despite his professional tone. "Lucas, this is good evidence of pattern behavior, but he hasn't actually done anything illegal. Driving on public streets isn't a crime."
"Even when it's clearly intimidation?"
"Proving intent is the hard part." Morrison hands back the tablet. "But this system was a smart investment. Next time he shows up, and there will be a next time. We'll be ready."
Maya sinks into the nearest chair, the weight of our new reality settling over her like a dark cloud. "He's playing games. Letting me know he can get close whenever he wants."
"Then we play better games," I say, moving to stand behind her chair.
Morrison heads out with promises to increase patrols, and Jake locks up behind him as he heads home for the night. The bar feels different now, charged with tension and the awareness that we're being watched.
"I can't do this." Maya's voice cracks as she stands abruptly, pacing toward the windows before catching herself and turning away.
"Lucas, I can't let you spend your savings on security systems. I can't let Mrs. Henderson patrol the streets like some kind of grandmother vigilante.
I can't let this whole town rearrange their lives because I brought a psycho to their doorstep. "
"Maya—"
"No, listen to me." She spins to face me, eyes bright with unshed tears. "Everyone's being so wonderful, so protective, but it's not fair to them. It's not fair to you. I should just leave. Go somewhere else, somewhere he can't hurt anyone but me."
The words have me seeing red. "Like hell you will."
"Lucas, be reasonable—"
"Reasonable?" I cross the space between us in two strides, my hands framing her face. "You want reasonable? Reasonable is me not letting the best thing that's ever happened to me walk away because some sick bastard thinks he owns you."
"But if something happens to you, or to Harper, or to anyone in this town because of me—"
"Then we'll handle it together." My thumbs brush across her cheekbones, wiping away tears she didn't realize had fallen. "You're not some burden we're carrying. You're one of us. Part of my life. And I'll be damned if I let him drive you away."
"The whole town is watching us," she whispers, glancing toward the windows where anyone could see us.
"Good." I lean closer, until there's barely an inch between us. "Let them watch. Let everyone know exactly where I stand."
"I love you." The words come out fierce, desperate. "I love you, and I don't care who sees it, who knows it, or who tries to tear us apart. You're mine, Maya Bennett, and I'm yours, and that's not changing."
Her breath catches, and then she's rising on her toes, her hands fisting in my shirt as she pulls me down to her. The kiss is desperate, passionate, full of all the fear and love and determination we've been carrying.
When we break apart, both breathing hard, her eyes are bright with something stronger than tears.
"I love you too," she whispers against my lips. "I won't run."
"Promise me."
"I promise." She kisses me again, softer this time but no less intense. "I don't care who sees. I care about you."