Cherry? Yes, it was technically already popped, but please pop it again.
His gaze swept my face, his mouth tipped up. “Pie,” he added.
My gaze dropped to his mouth; my tongue touched my lower lip where I could still taste him. He closed the distance, pulled my lip between his teeth, and looked me in the eyes when he applied enough pressure to make it hurt.
My legs went weak. He grinned. Then waited for me to get my balance, before he opened the door and held it for me. I was in a daze walking to the door. Reaching it, he called, “Don’t forget the pie.”
I glanced back; he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. I felt the heat crawl up my neck to my cheeks. He knew what he was doing to me because he grinned.
I almost walked into the door then stood just outside the station, trying to remember why I came into town to begin with.
Maureen and Jared stopped by earlier to take Cooper and Max for the afternoon, her only grandchildren at the moment. There was a definite hint there, and since she put the thought in my head, it lingered. It was a good thought.
I wanted to check the cameras. I wouldn’t go to the ones farther on my property, but the one just inside the tree line was close enough to home. Something was nagging at me. Maybe it was a coincidence, but the timing of Monica waving the gun at the tavern bothered me, particularly when the following day, Killian found the cigarettes. I planned on talking to him about it, but he was following up on something else. I knew he’d been in touch with Detective Donnelly, and if he shared with Killian what he’d told me, I understood why Killian was busy. The threat, however small, of any kind of organized crime activity in his small town, especially one that centered around me, yeah, he was going to nail that shit down. And it was because there was that threat, real or imagined, that I wasn’t crazy enough to check all the cameras. I was curious, but I wasn’t stupid.
I reached the trees, checked out the ground for cigarettes and footprints, but didn’t see anything. Before reaching the tree with the camera, I heard a sound I hadn’t heard in a long time. It was an undeniable sound; my head whipped around, expecting to see Tom the turkey behind me. My thoughts went to Brock. I heard the turkey again and followed the sound, my feet moving without direction from my brain, because I believed it would lead me to Brock.
I didn’t know how long I walked until it dawned on me that I was going deeper into the woods, following a wild turkey with the hope of seeing my friend, who I hadn’t seen in fifteen years, one who had made avoiding me a full-time job. I started back for home and realized I got turned around; everything looked the same. I had my phone, but I had no signal. I heard the turkey again, so I walked in the other direction. I walked for a while and still didn’t recognize anything. I could climb a tree. I’d climbed more than my share of trees as a kid. Getting a grip and that first leg up was a challenge; I wasn’t eleven anymore, but I managed and climbed as high as I dared and looked all around. I thought maybe I saw my house in the distance, and then I saw the truck, a white truck. I almost called out to them, relieved that I wouldn’t be lost in the woods, but realized the truck was on my property. Relief shifted to anger and fear. Who the hell was on my property?
I climbed down and debated on what to do because the truck was in the same direction as my house. The sun was going down, and I didn’t want to be out here at night, especially not if there were bears and raccoons and who knew what else. I tried to be very quiet as I picked my way through the forest. I then stopped in my tracks when I heard the sound of an engine turning over. I crept a little closer and saw the truck, the emblem on the side. It was the ranger guy. What the hell was he doing on my property? He pulled away. I followed after him. At least I’d find my way to a road. I wasn’t sure where I was, but the trees cleared, a road appeared, but I stopped just inside the trees because the ranger had stopped, his truck pulled up alongside someone. It was a few minutes before the other truck pulled away. My heart dropped because, though I didn’t know the driver, it was the same truck I saw in town the other day. The ranger turned around and followed after the guy. What the hell had that been all about? I waited, because I didn’t want them to see me, before I stepped out onto the road, tried my phone again but still had no service. If I walked long enough, I was bound to find someone or, better yet, my driveway. No one needed to know about this, but I wasn’t that lucky. I didn’t get very far when I saw the black pickup coming up the road. He veered off the road and was out of the truck and in my face faster than should be humanly possible.
“What the fuck?” Killian said softly, deceivingly soft.
There was a vein in his forehead that looked like it might burst. His face didn’t give much away, but that vein said plenty.
“How did you know?” I asked.
“My parents.”
Right, dropping off the boys. “I can explain,” I said. Then shivered because it had gotten pretty cold.
He grabbed my hand, pulled me to his truck, tossed me in,
