Her gaze fell to a picture on the wall where a window should have been to let in light. Instant warmth rushed through her tingling limbs. She’d taken the photograph. It was of Acadia National Park, where she and Asher had gone camping to celebrate her eighteenth birthday. That night Asher had taken her virginity under a blanket of stars. The next morning she’d woken early and there’d been a fog that had settled over the lake, making it picture-perfect. She could hardly believe that he’d not only kept the photograph but framed it and put it in his office.
“Interesting couple days.”
She gasped and jerked away from the photograph and the memory, finding Boone’s warm blue eyes regarding her carefully. “That’s one way of putting it,” she said with a snort.
Boone wasn’t blood family, but he’d always been there, watching over her as much as he watched over Kinsley. Not like they appreciated that fact very much when there were teenage girls. “How are you holding up?” he asked, propping his shoulder against the doorframe, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans, which was detective attire in Stoney Creek.
A lie sat on the tip of her tongue, but she quickly swallowed that back. “I have no idea what I am at the moment, other than I’m still breathing, so I guess that’s good.”
“It is,” Boone said with a firm nod, and blessedly there was no hint of pity in his gaze. “It’s good you came today to face Damon. This is the right step forward to getting this situation behind you.”
She figured he was probably right, but nothing about any of this felt good. She shrugged as her answer, not really sure she had anything to say. In all honesty, she wasn’t even sure what she had to put behind her anymore. Sure, the fact that Damon wanted to steal her inheritance needed to be put to bed, and that her shop was gone for the foreseeable future. Then there was that she was messed up enough to nearly marry a con man, and that when Asher objected, her heart craved him. But all of that seemed so impossible to put behind her, she didn’t even know where to start.
Boone watched her a moment, obviously misreading her messy emotional state. “You’re not in this alone, Remy.” His voice was as comforting as a bowl of hot stew on a cold day. “I hope you know that. Whatever you need, we’ll be there.”
She wanted to thank him, to say that she knew that, but her throat got clogged up. Her friendships weren’t something she questioned.
Boone gave a soft, sad smile like he knew exactly what she needed. He opened his arms. “Come here.” She rose, then stepped into his big warm arms and comforting embrace. “He’ll pay for hurting you, Remy. Do not doubt that.”
“Thank you,” she finally managed to squeeze out of her tight throat. She leaned away, fighting tears. “Now stop trying to make me cry with all your love and support. I’m already way too emotional.”
Boone chuckled, right as Asher stepped into the doorway. “We’re ready,” he said.
Heaviness returned to Remy in a flash. She exhaled slowly, lifted her chin, and then straightened her shoulders. “All right, let’s get this over with.”
When she went to walk away, Boone stopped her with his hand on his arm. “Stay strong.”
“Always do.” She forced a smile.
He frowned. Damn. Maybe she looked worse off than even she thought.
Putting that aside for now, she followed Asher down the thin hallway to the back of the station, where Rhett waited near a door. Rhett had always been a hard guy to figure out, his expression usually unreadable, and most times he looked pissed off. But today, she swore she could see hints of concern in his dark eyes.
When she reached him, he watched her closely a moment. “You good to have this talk?”
No matter how much all of this sucked, she wouldn’t forget all the love around her. She could do this. Face Damon, then put this hell behind her. “Since I doubt that you’ll let me castrate him, then yes, I guess I have to be okay with just a talk.”
Rhett’s mouth twitched and then he leaned in, keeping the conversation private, and said quietly, “You know I’d vote to castrate too.”
She barked a laugh, a surprise even to her that she could find anything amusing now.
Rhett gave a long look to Asher over her shoulder, having some kind of male private conversation where one look seemed to explain everything, and then he opened the door.
She entered the room, spotted Damon sitting there in his orange jumpsuit, and heat radiated through her chest.
Asher shut the door behind her with a heavy slam and addressed Damon with a low, steady voice, “Remy is here to talk. You’re going to listen to what she has to say. If I don’t like how you talk to her, you won’t like what I’m going to do to you.”
Damon snorted.
Remy didn’t. Damon obviously thought Asher was joking. The firmness in Asher’s voice, the carefully controlled rage in his gaze, told Remy he was dead serious. And she knew, after years of being together, that while Asher prided himself on being a good cop, he was also insanely protective of his friends. Maybe his limit had been reached.
She tried not to think about that too much; she was too emotional as it was.
Asher pulled out the seat across from Damon and then gestured for her to sit. She drew in a long breath and sat down, while Asher stood in behind her. Obviously, a show that he had her back. One she oddly found herself appreciating.
Damon’s gaze held Asher’s before zeroing in on Remy. She searched for any sign that he was some guy out to steal away her inheritance. She didn’t see anything but the warm man that she’d planned on sharing a life with. Maybe that’s where she’d gone wrong. She never really loved Damon, not like she had loved Asher. But love lied and hurt, and Damon had been a solid in her life. He had made her happy. He was sweet and gentle and affectionate. He didn’t hurt her ever. They never fought or disagreed. Hell, he was perfect. Until, of course, he wasn’t. And maybe that should have been a red flag. When was any person perfect?
As much as anger boiled beneath her skin, her heart shattered as she stared at Damon. She still had a hard time believing he could do this to her. All the memories they shared, the long walks in the park, the dinners over candlelight, the nights snuggled up watching movies together rushed through her mind, reminding her that none of those would ever happen again. And…and this was a big and…he was only there for her inheritance.
Emotion tickled her throat, and tears threatened to rise, when Damon finally broke the silence. “Can we talk alone?” he asked.
“Not a chance in hell,” Asher stated firmly.
Remy caught Damon’s glare, figuring Asher’s probably looked the same. Then she cleared the emotion from her throat and spoke up for herself. “Yes, we can talk alone,” she said directly to Asher.
He frowned. Deeply. “Remy.”
“Asher.” She held her ground.
He finally let out a long sigh, his lips pressed into a thin line. “I’ll be right outside.” His gaze turned hard as he set his stare on Damon. “The warning remains.”
Again, Damon snorted.
Remy watched Asher leave before turning back to Damon, finding him staring intently. “What do you have to say to me that you couldn’t say with Asher here?”
Damon’s expression softened as he leaned forward, reaching his hands out to her across the metal table. “You owe me nothing, I get that. But I’ve got something at your house and I need you to do a favor for me.”
She parted her lips to respond, then they shut with an audible pop. Of all the things she expected Damon to say, that was certainly not it. Her vision suddenly went cloudy, adrenaline rushing through her body, and any sadness she’d felt a moment ago was suddenly ripped away and replaced by red-hot rage. Anger that no longer boiled beneath the surface of her flesh rose, cutting through all those good memories they shared. “You cannot be fucking serious.”
Damon cringed. “Remy, I—”
He couldn’t finish that statement. Her fists tightened and she shot up and slugged him in the nose. Hard. His head
flew back, and blood started dripping.
The door slammed open and Asher rushed in, grabbing Remy by the waist just as she lunged forward to claw out Damon’s eyeballs.
Boone shot toward Damon, grabbing his arm. “Move and you’ll regret it.”
Her vision tunneled on the man she had planned to spend her life with. “Of all the things you could have said to me. ‘Hey, Remy, I’m a psychopath and have problems, but I’m sorry for using you to get your money.’ Or maybe ‘Don’t worry, it’s not you, it’s me.’” Her hands shook and she gritted her teeth as she went on. “Even, ‘I’m a total asshole, but whatever.’ You could have said anything, but the first thing you do is ask for a favor.” She struggled against Asher’s tight hold, desperately clawing to get her hands around Damon’s neck. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” she yelled at the bastard who’d tried to swindle all the money her nana worked so hard to have.
Behind her, Rhett laughed. “I’m so happy I stayed for this.”
Boone had a bloodied Damon back in handcuffs.
Asher finally managed to get her out the door and kicked it shut. Her blood felt like it was boiling, pumping too fast through her veins. Her fists were clenched, ready to hit anything to make herself feel better.
But then suddenly as she met Asher’s gaze, she realized she was in his arms. Those emerald eyes held hers, intensity rushing through them. Now her heart rate spiked for another reason entirely. Asher lowered one hand to her hip, pinning her to the wall in a move that seemed more for pleasure than a need to keep her from attacking anyone. Her hand was moving without her say-so up his strong biceps, her lips parting.
“You’ve punched one guy today,” Rhett said, voice well amused, as he’d obviously opened the door and neither of them noticed. “Probably shouldn’t make out in the hallway too.”
At that, she realized what she was doing and stepped back. Sweet Jesus. What was wrong with her?
Maybe she was having a total breakdown.
“I’d say you succeeded.”
She glanced up, finding all the intensity gone from Asher’s eyes, his solid front back in place. “At what?”
He grinned. “Giving the town something to talk about.”
Chapter 4
After a good twenty minutes of having an icepack on her hand, Remy left Asher at the police station while he finalized paperwork on having Damon transferred to the larger jail in the neighboring town of Whitby Falls. She didn’t ask questions after that. What she did do was walk the few blocks back down Main Street and entered Kinsley’s jazz club, Whiskey Blues, needing her best friend. From the bar’s original flagstone walls and restored burgundy velvet chairs to the gold accents, Kinsley had turned this once dingy dive bar into pure class. Four large crystal chandeliers gave the space a warm, inviting feel, and round tables surrounded the black shiny stage, where bands performed, but this morning, the stage was empty, and the bar was quiet. Kinsley always opened early in the day, as she thought a bar needed to be open in case someone desperately needed a drink. Her tell-it-like-it-is attitude seemed to make her part therapist, part bartender for most of Stoney Creek’s townsfolk.
Behind the bar, Kinsley wore a tight black T-shirt with WHISKEY BLUES written across her chest. She studied Remy as she approached and then moved to the bar fridge. By the time Remy slid her butt on the stool, Kinsley placed a chocolate bar and a glass of red wine in front of her. “I take it you knew I’d be coming by today,” Remy said.
“Boone told me to have the reinforcements ready,” Kinsley said with a soft smile. “How did it go with Damon?”
Remy reached for the chocolate bar. She opened it quickly and broke off a big piece before taking a bite. “I punched him in the nose.”
Kinsley’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”
The cell phone set next to the liquor bottles was tuned to Whitby Fall’s rock station, and Remy wanted to punch the current love song too. She shoved more chocolate into her mouth. She savored the sweet smooth goodness against her tongue, feeling immensely better already. “He asked me for a favor.”
“That’s an odd request. What kind of favor?”
Remy shrugged. “Got me. I didn’t give him a chance to ask. That’s where the punch came in.”
“Weird,” Kinsley said, dropping an elbow on the bar and resting her chin on her hand. “Did he say anything else?”
“Nothing at all,” Remy replied with a heavy sigh. “No apologies. No explanations. Nothing.”
Kinsley watched Remy, and then Remy watched the chocolate bar as she ripped another big piece off and shoved it into her mouth. She washed it down with the biggest gulp of wine of her life.
“I’m sorry, Remy,” Kinsley said gently, drawing Remy’s full attention again. Her eyes looked as sad as her voice sounded. “I can’t imagine any of this. I mean, I never liked Damon, but I never guessed he’d do something like this.”
No one liked Damon, except for Remy, who’d thought he was the bee’s knees of boyfriends. “I just don’t know how I could have been so wrong about him. Or how I couldn’t have seen what you all saw. It’s like I had blinders on, only seeing what I wanted to see.” Her chest felt so hollow and empty, and her body depleted of all its energy. She’d have to research a spell later in her nana’s book of spells to find something powerful to bring her back from this hell. “Most of all, I hate that I keep repeating the past. It’s like I fall for these guys who are just not who they say they are. I am so done with love it’s not even funny.”
Kinsley snorted a laugh. “Keep dreaming on that one, babe. You’re all about love, sorry to break it to you.”
“Well, that’s got to change,” Remy declared firmly. “The old me is getting me nowhere but heartbroken. Repeatedly.” She glanced down into her wineglass, staring at the deep crimson color, and sighed, wishing her nana were there. She’d have all the answers to make everything better. She really missed her wise advice and warm, gentle smile. Her throat tightened and she glanced up into her best friend’s eyes, finding tears in them. “I’m not so sure how much more my heart can take. I quit here a week ago thinking I was about to have it all.” She’d been waitressing and bartending ever since she dropped out of college to support herself after Nana died. When Kinsley bought the bar after she’d gotten her business degree—the same degree Remy was meant to have—Remy came on board immediately. But bartending had never been the dream. She felt her chest hollow even further as she went on. “I thought that I’d finally have the perfect husband and eventually be the mom I always wanted to be. I could nearly taste it. I was finally going to have my shop, one that would’ve made Nana so happy. I saved for it, planned it out. And now…there’s nothing.”
“There’s not nothing,” Kinsley said, reaching for Remy’s hand and giving it a hard squeeze. “You can have your job here until you figure out what to do next. I know that’s probably not what you want to do, but it’s your first step in starting over again.”
Regardless that taking her old job back felt like a gigantic step in the wrong direction, she squeezed Kinsley’s hand back. “Thanks.” She’d liked working at the bar. Kinsley paid her well, and the tips were great. The people who came in were awesome. But it wasn’t her own shop. She didn’t feel like she was doing what she was meant to do—help people like Nana had helped people—though what choice did she have? “Is it okay if I start back in a couple weeks? I think I need to just—”
“It’s fine,” Kinsley said quickly. “Take however long you need. You don’t have to figure all this out now. Just know the job is here, if you want it.”
“I love you,” Remy said, and gave a smile she knew probably looked really sad.
“I love you back.” Kinsley returned the smile and then her gaze shifted to something over Remy’s shoulder.
When the air shifted slightly and the hairs on her arms rose like static, Remy sighed. She was a step away from grabbing that wine bottle behind the bar and hiding in the closet until he was gone. Keeping her gaze on
Kinsley, she said to Asher, “I really appreciate that you took me to the police station, but I can’t deal with you right now. Honestly, my emotional limit is reached.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you.”
Kinsley’s eyebrows shot up and her mouth dropped open. She glanced rapidly between them and then she quickly sprinted away.
Remy shut her eyes and breathed deeply in order to not lash out. Her heart felt battered, and her mind utterly exhausted. When Asher didn’t move away, she grabbed her wineglass and chugged the entire contents back and then turned to face him. He stood directly behind her, his hands shoved in the pockets of his jeans, and his gray T-shirt was stretched across a thick chest. “What in your mind has you thinking that now—out of any time that you’ve had in the past five years—is the appropriate time to apologize to me?”
He didn’t even hesitate and gave an easy shrug. “Seemed as good as time as any. You’re finally letting me talk to you. And you’re no longer getting married, so I’m not feeling like I’m treading on ground that I shouldn’t be.”
Maybe it was his blasé attitude, her emotional state, or just her heartbreak paired with red-hot anger, but she closed the distance to poke his chest. “I have already punched one guy today. Want to be number two?”
“If it’d make you feel better, then yes,” he stated.
She stared into Asher’s eyes, not seeing any emotion, just strength. And all of that was just a reminder of the day he walked away. The day that changed the course of her entire life. And it was a reminder that when Asher objected at her wedding, it wasn’t out of love. “I’m going home now,” she told him dryly. “Do not follow me.” She charged out the door, heading down the street until she met the alleyway that led to the back parking lot of the row of shops.
Wicked Sinner Page 4
