Page 89 of Her Only Hero

I hung up, and Aram returned.

“Thank you for your help with the case, and your hospitality,” I said. “But I have to leave now.”

“Are you sure?”

I nodded.

He escorted me to the door and then followed me outside. We strolled down the walkway, under the stars.

“I relished having you here.”

“It was nice,” I said. “Thank you, again.”

I continued to my car when he gently took my hand.

“June—”

Swiftly, his lips claimed mine. They were soft, full, and warm. Familiar, but foreign. I had longed to feel this kiss again. My heart beat fast from the passionate assault, and my knees threatened to buckle. I raised my hands to his chest.

“Aram,” I said in a hushed tone, not really knowing what to say next. My thoughts were in a jumble.

Aram’s gaze shifted to something behind me, and I turned.

Patrick stood on the sidewalk. Perfectly still. His face was dark in the shadows.

He had seen everything.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

I rummaged in the console between the car seats for a tissue and swerved from the center yellow line. In a flash I relived the one and only time I had crossed into oncoming traffic.It had been after Aram broke up with me. I thought he had wanted to meet me at my car for a secret kiss, but it had turned out to be a sucker punch. He simply watched me become a mess of sobs, snot, and tears.

Was it now over with Patrick and I, too?

I banged the steering wheel with my palms. “No!” This was a different situation. A ridiculous, inappropriate misunderstanding. Would Patrick accept my explanation? Or would I suffer another heartbreak, once again, ironically, precipitated by Aram? Why couldn’t Aram have stayed away? I had to be honest. Why didn’t I stay away? I hated myself for my behavior. I had toyed with temptation and, until now, thought I had control.

With my sleeve, I wiped my eyes. After Aram’s kiss, Patrick’s darkened expression haunted my mind. His cold, silent reaction was more unnerving than the revving of his truck engine as he sped away.

When I got to the house, Patrick’s truck was already on his driveway, and I parked behind it. I pushed open the front door and crept into the kitchen. He sat drinking a can of beer. My gun rested in the center of the table. My chest tightened, and I wrung my hands.

“Patrick—” I started to explain.

Without looking at me, he cut me off. “You know, I rushed over to Hamid’s place to fill you in on significant updates of your case. I tried calling, but I guess you were busy.”

“What you saw isn’t what you think you saw.”

“Here’s your gun,” he said. “The slug you fired was retrieved from the concrete wall. You’re officially in the clear and not responsible for inflicting any injury to David Moreno.”

I had prayed for this news. “Thank you for telling me, Patrick. But, please, don’t be angry. Let me explain.”

He continued talking as if he hadn’t heard me.

“The most unexpected confession occurred today, at Lockwood High School. Unfortunately, I can’t take credit for this solve. It’s funny how there are times when guilty parties implicate themselves.” His jaw clenched, and he looked at me, devoid of expression. “In the cafeteria, a sixteen-year-old boy bragged to his friends about his clever techniques of getting revenge on someone who ‘screwed his mom’ at work.”

My mouth slackened. “What?”

“This young man boasted about how he had disabled an engine with a bottle of cola. But his luck ran out when a girl behind him heard his story and told the principal. With impending expulsion, he confessed to the cola crime, and for threatening harm via a note and a broken mirror. It’s still to be determined if the mother was in on it.”

“Victoria.” I shuddered. Her hatred of me ran deeper than I realized.

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