Page 72 of Blackwood

My bottom lip trembled as I stared at the man I thought I knew, not sure if I wanted to run away from him or into his arms. It was all acting, had to be.

“She’s in no state and neither are you.” Sheriff Crow gestured toward me. “You’re scaring her. Just look at her and have a little mercy, Garrett.”

Garrett relented enough for the sheriff to pull him a few steps away. “I’ll be next door. Just next door. Nothing will hurt you. I promise. Not while I’m here.”

“Not even you?” A tear rolled down my cheek and stopped at the patch of gauze across the middle of my nose.

“What?” Hurt bloomed in his eyes like blood in clear water. The sheriff pulled him away, and pain welcomed me back into its thorny embrace.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Isatup inmy bed, a steak knife I’d stolen from my dinner concealed under the covers.

“You said I could see her. Let me the fuck in.” Garrett’s pissed off growl in the hallway had me clutching the knife harder.

“Hold on a minute, now.” Rory kept his voice even. “The Sheriff left me in charge of this whole rodeo, so you can go in when Isayyou can go in.”

A thump sounded against the rustic wood walls. “Fuck, Garrett. Get off!”

“Move!”

The door opened, and Garrett rushed in.

“Hey!” Rory followed close on his heels. “Ms. Vale, I can throw him out of—”

“Just you fucking try it, Deputy Douche.” Garrett whirled on him.

To Rory’s credit, he didn’t back down. But it didn’t stop Garrett from grabbing him and tossing him into the hallway. Garrett closed the door and clicked the lock. My ears began to burn, my stomach in a knot.

“Ms. Vale!” Rory banged on the solid door.

“I’m okay,” I called. “Just wait outside.”

Garrett rushed to me and sat on the bed, then pulled me into his arms. “Jesus, what’s going on?”

He pulled away and ran his palm down my swollen cheek. “How could he? I knew Danny.” His demeanor turned to stone. “I would kill him with my fucking bare hands for doing this to you.”

“Would you?” I tried to weigh his worth, to decide if he was a monster or a man.

“What do you mean?” He pulled me into his arms again.

The furnace of my heart sputtered and sparked from the nearness of him, but doubt darkened any flames.

“I mean that Danny said things.” I hadn’t released the blade.

“Like what?” He kissed my forehead, his warm lips reminding me of nights spent safe in his arms.

“About the graves.”

He leaned back and peered at me, his hands still cupping my face. “What about them? Does he know where they are?”

Why couldn’t I sense his lies? Everything from the tilt of his head to the worry in his eyes screamed that he was innocent, that he didn’t know what I was talking about.

“I’m tired.” I backed away from his touch and pressed into my pillows.

“Red, please, just tell me.” He clasped my hand between his. “Let me help you.”

“The doctor said I need to rest if I want to get my strength back. We’ll talk when I’m better. I need some time. Alone.”

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