Chapter 12
Twelve
My idea of ‘help from above’ is a sniper on a roof.
—Bernice to Hux
Bernice
Huxley Hosea withdrawals were a real thing.
I didn’t know they were a real thing until I hadn’t seen him in five days.
He’d delivered some meat to Kalispell and had spent the night there stocking up on supplies and meeting an old friend.
I only knew he was there because I broke down and walked to The Mercantile for lunch hoping to run into him, and found Heidi instead who was more than willing to share Hux’s whereabouts.
Once he was done in Kalispell, he was headed to western Montana to deliver an elk.
From there, he would be turned toward home.
But Heidi hadn’t known an exact day he would be back.
Which led me to now, five days later, standing in my bedroom with the shower running in the bathroom, wondering if it was normal to think about a man so much who had barely given me the time of day.
Likely, it was just my lack of self-worth.
I should probably also not be as aware as I was that his truck hadn’t been in his driveway for five days, but there I was, looking out my bedroom window anyway.
The house on the other side of me was vacant, and the only one who could see this window at all was Hux.
Though I highly doubted he’d waste his time looking in my window.
But I sure wasted my time looking out of it.
My brother had been super nice and hung up blinds and curtains in the house, but I didn’t use them in my bedroom.
If I had them pulled closed, I couldn’t see him out on his porch drinking coffee every morning.
Or tinkering with his truck in his garage every night.
Eventually giving up that he’d come home today, I shed my work clothes and hopped into the shower, shaving everything that I could shave.
I hated the way the hair felt on my legs. I liked feeling smooth and clean shaven, but since I was cold all the time, I was always hairier than I wanted to be.
Luckily, the cold weather meant I could get away with the leggings and sweatpants all the time look.
After I’d applied lotion following my shower, I walked out to the bedroom and…screamed.
The man who was standing at my bedroom window took his face covering off and…
“Huxley?” I asked, rushing toward the window.
He held up his hand. “Don’t. It’s cold.”
It was cold.
“What are you doing there?”
“I tried calling you,” he said. “You didn’t answer your phone.”
I frowned. “Come to the front door.”
He looked reluctant to leave but went anyway.
I met him at the door in only my towel, shivering when the blast of cold air hit me in the face as he swept inside like he owned the place.
“Get dressed,” he ordered.
I listened, getting dressed in the sexiest pair of leggings I owned.
They were Halara, and they had this butt-lifting webbing at the top of my ass that made my butt appear bigger and more toned than it actually was.
I paired the leggings with a tight long-sleeved black t-shirt that was warm and so soft.
I didn’t bother with a bra, either.
I also forced myself not to put on the sweatshirt that I would’ve normally slipped on and headed out of the bedroom with a hairbrush in one hand and a pair of slouchy, warm socks in the other.
Taking a seat on the couch, I lifted one leg up and sank my foot into a wool sock.
“Nice socks,” he mused from his stance at the window.
He was looking out at the Hubers.
They were all out on their front porch, drinking in their rocking chairs, staring at my house like it was their own personal form of entertainment.
“They’re wool,” I found myself saying. “And come in pretty colors.”
He turned, but only after pulling the blinds shut.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t actually know where it is.”
His head tilted. “You don’t know where your phone is?”
“No,” I admitted. “I think it’s in the truck, maybe. But it was too cold for me to go look. Plus, I wanted to unplug for a bit.”
“Why?” he asked.
The way he asked “why” made me think of an avenging angel about to do battle.
I winced. “Because my brother is calling me twenty-four-seven, and he’s driving me insane.”
Hux crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the small lip of the window.
When he did, the muscles in his biceps bulged where they rested against his chest. The black Henley he was wearing made him look even sexier. Paired with the beige 5.11 tactical pants and…yum.
He also did not look happy about hearing this. He was glaring at the brick wall behind my wood stove. He looked like he was a few seconds away from dragging my brother’s face against the rough stone.
It was a good thing Creed wasn’t here.
“Your brother is worried about you,” he finally admitted, not sounding too happy about it. “I don’t think it’s a bad thing that he’s calling.”
He sounded like it was a bad thing…
“No,” I agreed. “But it’s a bad thing when he’s calling every hour, on the hour.
He’s driving me nuts. He already drove over here once, too.
” I stopped checking out his chest to look at his face, noticing that he appeared tired.
There were black circles under his eyes. “What was it that you called about?”
“I’m not sure you’re going to like the reason I’m here, either.”
My brows rose. “What? Is it serial killer related?”
He pushed off the window ledge and walked to my coffee table, picking up my remote and switching to the first news station he found, which happened to be Fox News.
I tended to avoid the news at all cost, because no one liked being depressed when your life was depressing enough. But this time, the news anchor talking about a murder had me stilling.
“…FBI agent. No one knows if this is related to the Corpse Violator or not, but officials are fairly sure that the FBI agent’s death is tied to the serial killer.”
“Oh, shit,” I breathed. “Do you think it was the serial killer that killed one of the FBI agents on the case?”
He scrunched up his nose. It was surprisingly adorable.
“No. But that agent did a whole lot of talking and not a lot of investigating. The way I always heard that agent talking on the news, this was his breakout case. He was going to catch Corpse Violator and make sure he never saw the outside of a jail cell for the rest of his life.”
I leaned my hip against the countertop opposite him, mirroring his stance.
He looked amused that I’d done so, but kept talking anyway.
“It’s unclear whether the Corpse Dude killed this agent as a ‘fuck you’ to the man that said on national television that he was going to make his career on catching him.
Or because he was pissed that you were hidden from him.
He probably thinks that they helped you escape and they know where you are. ”
“The FBI agents weren’t the ones that would be handling my new identity. It was the US Marshals,” I pointed out.
“Regardless, the FBI would’ve known some details,” Hux contradicted.
“But that’s neither here nor there. I did some digging with Apollo and contacted a few of my friends that have clearance that can find them answers.
Turns out, in the three months that you’ve been missing, there have been six deaths.
All of them related to you and this case in some way.
Your old landlord was killed. Your boss at the hospital.
And four other women that look exactly like you. ”
My stomach sank. “What?”
“Silas Mackenzie, he’s the national president for the Dixie Wardens MC, was able to get in touch with a few of his contacts.
I also have a friend named Wolf that lives in Uncertain, Texas, that’s also an FBI agent.
They’ve both come back with the same information.
They think that the UNSUB…” He saw the confusion on my face and clarified.
“UNSUB means unidentified subject. Corpse Violator is a mouthful, and I can’t even say it.
It’s so stupid and generic. I swear to Christ, why can’t the media come up with something else? ”
My lips twitched.
“Anyway, the UNSUB is pissed, they think. A profiler came in and determined that he’s unstable now that he hadn’t been able to finish your kill.
He’s starting to make mistakes, and he’s killing women that look like you indiscriminately.
They think that eventually, he’ll fuck up and make a mistake big enough that they’ll catch him. But until then…”
Until then, the death toll was rising. And it was all my fault.
“Shit,” I said quietly. “What does that mean? What do I do about that?”
“You keep living your life,” he ordered. “You don’t feel bad about anything, because this serial fuck’s actions aren’t your fault. It’s his messed-up brain and his actions that are hurting innocent people.”
I held up my hand. “I’m not one of those lame-ass heroines in my romance novels that does the gallant thing and give themselves to the serial killer so he’ll stop killing indiscriminately.
I’m a realist. I’m not a fighter. I’m not a runner, either.
I won’t put myself in danger for someone else, so you can calm down. ”
He relaxed. “Good.”
“I also have no plans on helping with this case,” I continued. “My brother’s life is more important to me than just about anyone else’s. I won’t bring trouble to his door. I want him to have a good life, because he’s never had one before. It’s my turn to take care of him.”
“You deserve to be happy, too,” he replied softly.
I scoffed. “Being happy is overrated,” I grumbled.
He twisted his neck from side to side, causing the bones and joints to pop.
“Being happy is the ultimate goal in life,” he contradicted me.
I didn’t really see the point in arguing with him.
He didn’t know my life. Didn’t know everything that had happened to me.
I was seriously cursed.
So unlucky in life that I gave up a long time ago.
“My wants and needs are flawed anyway,” I brushed him off.
His eyes narrowed for a long moment before he said, “Why do you say your wants and needs are flawed?”
“Because I only attract weirdos.” I shrugged. “Or cheaters. I think that I’m just broken.”
“You’re not broken,” he growled. “Who hurt you?”