Let them be together. Despite her jealousy, despite the hurt burning through her heart, she wanted Thomas to be happy. Naomi seemed like a good person. Chelsey admired the woman for caring for a wheelchair-bound teenager by herself. If anyone deserved Thomas, it was Naomi.
A tear crept out of her eye. She flicked it away in anger. Why was this upsetting her?
As she weaved between teenagers, a memory flashed of the night she met Thomas at the high school football game. He’d offered her his sweatshirt to keep her warm. Long after the game ended and the bleachers cleared, they sat and laughed, oblivious to the chilling autumn wind. She’d loved the boy from the moment she set eyes on him, adoring his quirky mannerisms, never once considering he had Asperger’s, and not loving him less when she learned the truth.
Throwing her friends and family out of her life had been a huge mistake. But breaking up with Thomas had crippled her. He was her rock, her steadying force. With Thomas by her side, she would have broken out of her depression sooner. She wouldn’t have wasted a decade of her life, wandering the country, searching for a love she’d tossed away. She’d convinced herself she didn’t need friends to lean on, and all those lies drowned beneath a battering wave of truth.
A teenage boy and girl held hands on a bench. The girl giggled and kissed the boy on his cheek. Another tear forced its way past Chelsey’s defenses. Every store she passed reminded Chelsey of her ruin. The jewelry store, selling love on credit. The greeting card store. A shop that emblazoned the names of loved ones on stuffed animals. At that moment, she might have been the only person alone in the world.
She lowered her head and picked up her pace, not noticing how hard her heart was slamming against her chest until her vision blurred and her legs buckled.
The next thing Chelsey remembered was lying on her back, the cold rail brushing her cheek, her hair splayed out like spilling blood. A woman leaned over her.
“Miss, can you hear me?”
Chelsey couldn’t reply. The mall somersaulted as her breath came in quick gasps.
“Someone call 9-1-1! I think she’s having a heart attack!”
Concerned shouts. People circling, staring down at her like she was some strange piece of art they couldn’t grasp. Chelsey’s heart screamed in warning. It thrummed at hyper-speed, jack-hammering into her throat as her vision moved in and out of focus. Unlike her attack during the Herb Reid investigation, pain seared through her body this time. A vise clutched her heart and squeezed, shooting pain down her limbs. Her left arm fell numb as a stabbing sensation trailed from her neck to her shoulder. As her life flashed before her eyes, she understood the implications.
“Does anyone know CPR? Get security!”
This was it. She was dying.
The physician hadn’t listened to her. She should have called a cardiologist. Like everything in her life, she’d waited too long to act.
A woman in a white and black security uniform knelt beside her and spoke words Chelsey couldn’t understand.
She blacked out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Saturday, August 14th
5:15 p.m.
When someone turned the knob on the guest house door, LeVar snatched the knife from beneath the mattress and slipped it into his back pocket.
The lake mirrored the blue sky, making it seem impossible that danger could reach him here. But someone had broken inside the guest house already. He couldn’t think straight. Too many worries crawling through his head. What if the Kings attacked Scout and Naomi, or shot Thomas when he intervened? LeVar had invited danger into paradise. The blood of his family and friends would be on his hands if something unthinkable happened.
He waited behind the wall. The lock jiggled.
LeVar slipped the knife out of his pocket, fingers wrapping around the hilt. A knife was a poor choice in a gunfight. But it was the only weapon he possessed.
He let out a breath when someone knocked. Rev or Kilo wouldn’t rap their knuckles on his door. They’d kick the door down and shoot the first person they encountered.
LeVar leaned his head around the wall. Raven peered between the curtains with worry and irritation on her face. As he approached, her eyes fell to the knife and widened.
“What’s with the knife?” she asked when he opened the door.
“Just being careful.”
He led her inside and gestured at the chair beside the window. She set her hands on her hips.
“I’m not here for a social call, LeVar. You aren’t answering your phone, and you never showed for the interview.”
LeVar fell into the chair and lowered his head, elbows on his knees, dreadlocks concealing his face.
“Something came up.”
“I went out on a limb for you. Chelsey’s angry as hell, and she blames me for wasting her time. I don’t get it. You wanted that job.”
He slung his hair back and rubbed his temples.
“Anthony Fisher called just as I left.”
“I told you to let Thomas deal with Anthony. You didn’t go to Harmon, did you?” He glanced out the window. His silenced answered her question. Raven fell into the chair beside him when he scooted over to make room. “Talk to me.”
“I’m an idiot, okay?” He clenched his hands. “Anthony set me up. Half the crew was waiting for me.”
She opened her mouth to reply. Her haunted eyes fell to the floor.
“How did you get away?”
“Still got a few tricks of my sleeve, Sis. They shoulda known better than to mess with their muscle.”
“Please tell me you didn’t…”
“Naw. I didn’t kill no one. Busted up Anthony’s nose and broke into some lady’s apartment. But that’s all.”
“So just a few minor infractions. Great. We should call the police.”
“And say what? That the former enforcer for the Kings beat
