Chapter 42: Chapter 41

Anson wrapped a blanket around my shoulders, gently tucking one end beneath the other, making sure I was as warm as possible. But I still shivered. It was the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and was nearly impossible to get out.

Davis. Dead.

The two words were so incongruent. They didn’t fit. I’d seen him two days ago, being a total and complete douchebag. Even with the stunt he’d pulled, I never wanted anything like this.

Anson lowered himself to the spot next to me on the couch and pulled me to him. He didn’t say everything would be okay or give me any other platitudes that felt incredibly false. He just held me.

We didn’t have a lot of information. Davis’s body had been found next to the dumpster behind the bar. The Sagebrush wasn’t a place he typically frequented, but he could’ve been nursing his wounds after Anson’s verbal assault.

“What the hell is happening?” I whispered as I stared out the windows into the darkness outside. “This is supposed to be a quiet town. Safe. Now the fire, getting run off the road, murder.”

Anson gripped me tighter, practically pulling me on top of him. “When I was digging into Davis, I found some things.”

I stiffened. I hadn’t missed how Anson had pulled Trace aside before we left Nora’s. How he’d spoken in hushed tones. I had to assume it was about this.

“He’s got ties to a loan shark who works out of Portland. If Davis wasn’t paying that guy back, there’s always a chance this was done to set an example.”

My stomach twisted. So, chances were Davis had gotten himself killed. And for what? Image? Prestige? “What a waste,” I muttered.

Anson’s lips ghosted over my temple. “I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

“He wasn’t always like the person you met. He used to be funny, a little cocky, but kind deep down. I don’t know what happened to him.”

“It could’ve been a million different things. That’s the thing about life. Events and circumstances have the power to mark you. Change you.”

I burrowed deeper into Anson’s hold. “I don’t ever want to let those difficult things change me into a hard person.”

He brushed the hair out of my face. “You won’t.”

I looked up into those blue-gray eyes. “You sound so sure.”

Anson stared down at me. There was so much tenderness in his expression. “I am. You’ve faced more hardship than almost anyone I’ve known. But you’ve never let it harden you. That’s a miracle, Rho. You let those things make you better instead of worse. There’s no way you won’t live the rest of your life that way.”

My heart pounded against my ribs. Those three little words swirled around my mind and teased my tongue, but I swallowed them back. “Thanks for believing in me.”

“There’s no one on this planet I have more faith in.”

It wasn’t an I love you, but I would take it. I moved in to brush my lips across Anson’s when Biscuit let out a low growl.

I straightened, twisting to find the pup. He’d crossed to the windows and was baring his teeth at something through the glass.

Anson instantly pushed up from the couch, moving to a bag he’d brought in from his truck—the same duffel he’d taken to carting back and forth with him as he came and went.

“Biscuit,” I called. But the dog didn’t respond; simply kept growling at the glass.

Anson pulled a metal box out of his bag, quickly pressing in some sort of code. The lid popped open, and he retrieved a metal object.

I gaped at him. “Is that a gun?”

He glanced at me quickly as he wrapped his fingers around the grip and moved to the windows. “Yes.” He pulled one curtain and then the other as Biscuit kept growling.

“You brought a gun into my house?”

“Rho, I always have a gun within reach. It’s a safety measure. I’m trained. I don’t put them anywhere a child or someone untrained has access.”

My stomach roiled. Anson always had a gun within reach because he never truly felt safe. The thought was enough to make me sick.

He moved quickly around the room, shutting every blind and curtain. “Hand me your phone.”

I stood, handing it over. “It was probably an animal.”

“You’re probably right, but let’s be safe.” He took the device from me and punched in my code.

My jaw went slack. “How did you know my code?”

His lips twitched the barest amount. “I was a profiler, remember?”

Damn him.

I waited as he opened the security camera app, twisting my fingers in my sweatshirt as nerves took hold. Too much had happened lately for me to be anything more than jumpy.

Anson cursed.

I couldn’t help but jolt as he shoved the phone back at me. “Call Trace. Tell him someone’s lurking around your place. Tell him I’m in pursuit and armed.”

I fumbled the phone and then reached out, grabbing Anson’s shirt. “You can’t go out there.”

His face was a mask of barely restrained fury. “We’re ending this. Now. If we wait for the cops to come, he’ll probably be long gone. Stay here, keep the windows covered.”

“Anson…”

He tugged me toward him, kissing me fast and hard. “I’ll be back.”

My stomach dropped as he stalked silently toward the front door. He locked it behind him, leaving me alone except for Biscuit. I quickly tapped my phone screen, hitting Trace’s contact. He answered on the second ring.

“You all right?”

I could hear voices in the background and wondered if he was still at the crime scene. “Anson saw someone on the cameras outside my house. He went after them. He said to call you and tell you he was in pursuit and has a gun.”

Trace cursed. “Idiot. Should’ve waited for backup.”

“He’s out there, Trace,” I croaked.

“I’m on my way. I’ll inform dispatch,” Trace said. “Rho, stay where you are.”

“I will. I⁠—”

A crack pierced the air. Like a clap of thunder but fainter. A gun. A bullet.

I was already running, promises be damned.