Chapter One
Crouched behind a tree just inside the woods, Nester wiggled around, trying to get feeling back into his legs. He was cold, tired, and very hungry, but he was trying to wait until the restoration crew at the motel finished for the day.
Already it was dark outside, and every little noise made his heart beat just a little faster.
If only Scott hadn’t forced his hand. If only his ex-boyfriend hadn’t made Nester kill him. Nester kept replaying the event in his head over and over again, wishing he could have done things differently.
But Scott had forced Nester’s hand. Nester’s ex had set the room on fire and then came after Nester with a gun, threatening to kill them both. What the hell else was Nester supposed to do? He’d tried to get out of the room, but Scott had been much bigger than him, and faster.
Even though Nester had only defended himself, he was terrified of what the police would do to him, so he’d taken off. They could charge him with involuntary manslaughter, which was Nester’s worst nightmare considering he wasn’t built for prison. He’d become someone’s bitch in a matter of minutes. His slim physique, blond hair, pretty lips, and mannerisms would make him instant prey.
Nester wasn’t sure if it was the cold or the thought of prison that made him shiver as he stared from behind the tree, watching as the last guy got into his truck and pulled away.
The room was clear. Now all Nester had to do was find his phone. It was the only way he would get out of this mess. Partially, at least. He was still guilty for killing Scott, but there was nothing he could do about that.
What was done was done. There was no coming back from that. He’d turned into a killer in an instant, and that thought still made him want to throw up.
A killer.
Wouldn’t his mother be so proud of him? She’d voiced her opinion about Scott when Nester had first started dating him. Nester had ignored her warning because her opinion hadn’t mattered to him.
Nothing about Norma Jean had mattered to Nester in a long time. Sure, she acted like she cared. She always fooled others with her caring mother routine.
Nester ground his teeth. Norma Jean was the last person he wanted to think about. He already felt like shit. Thoughts of her only made him feel worse.
Too bad his dad wasn’t still alive. Nester had been close to him, two peas in a pod. That was something Norma Jean had hated. She was someone who always wanted to be the center of attention, in the spotlight, and Nester and his father had had a bond that would be considered more of a close friendship than father and son.
But the cancer had won, and now Nester was left without his best friend.
Checking to make sure no one else was outside, Nester slipped from the woods, nearly tripping over tangled roots, and quickly made his way to the rented room he’d been lured to.
Lured.
That was the perfect way of putting it. Scott had tricked Nester into meeting him there. Had planned on offing them both. Nester had come that close to losing his life.
He rushed toward the motel room door, trying his best to dodge around the security lights so he wouldn’t be seen.
If it hadn’t been for the sun setting so early, Nester would have had to wait a few more hours in the cold woods. He normally hated this time of year, but it was working to his advantage.
Nester tried the door handle and cursed when he found it locked. Who was he kidding? If men were restoring the room, then it had already been cleared.
Which meant his phone had already been discovered. Probably. But he had held out hope that some kind of miracle had been waiting for him.
Clearly it hadn’t.
He would still try and get into the room to make sure, but right now he needed somewhere warm and dry, preferably with food and a soft bed.
If he didn’t get his phone back, he was a dead man. Looking around to make sure he was still alone, Nester eased his way around the building, his feet crushing the weeds jutting from the sidewalk.
Damn it! The bathroom window—the one Nester had crawled out of to escape the room—was locked. Now what? He had nowhere to go, no money, and he was tired, cold, and hungry.
Maybe if he turned himself in, he could get fed and given a place to sleep. How bad could the town jail be?
“Do you think the jail is a motel?” he grumbled to himself. “You turn yourself in and you’re going to prison for a very long time.”
Nester was still kicking himself in the ass for trusting Scott in the first place. That was what he got for falling for a pretty face. He should have known it was too good to be true. Guys like Scott didn’t normally date guys like Nester.
It was some unwritten rule in the cosmos.
Nester’s heart twisted as he looked around, feeling lost and unsure what to do. He could track where his phone was if he had his laptop, but he’d left that in his apartment in Falls Bend.
By now the cops had checked out his apartment. Nester had no doubt about that. He was a murder suspect. He’d watched from deep in the woods that night, had seen the firefighters putting out the fire, and had watched Scott’s body being taken away.
By now they had his prints, because Nester had touched a lot of surfaces in the room when he tried not to get shot by Scott.
His life was over.
Then again, if he didn’t get his phone, he wouldn’t have to worry about seeing the inside of a prison. Dublin McLeay would torture Nester slowly before ending him.
A thought struck him. What if there was an internet café in town? All Nester had to do was sign into his account and ping his phone’s location.
With that little bit of hope, Nester hurried toward the road and made the long, cold journey toward town. He wandered aimlessly, searching for a coffee shop.
When he found it, Nester nearly shouted in joy.
Until he realized the coffee shop was closed for the night.
Crap.
Spending another night outside was a gloomy thought. Last night he’d bedded down in the woods, trying to use the foliage as a blanket.
He was surprised he hadn’t died from hypothermia.
With sagging shoulders, Nester took a seat on the bench next to Bistro. Hot, wet tears stung his eyes. He used the back of his hand to wipe them away as he looked out over the town.
The smell of the diner reached him, and Nester’s stomach picked that moment to rumble. He started across the street, ready to offer labor in exchange for food, but hesitated.
He was a wanted man, and showing his face around town would be a really dumb move. He eased away from the diner door, tucking his hands back into his jacket pockets, and headed down the dark street.
He passed the police station and stopped for a brief second, contemplating turning himself in. That would solve his hunger pains, his tiredness, and the chills that clung to him.
But he wasn’t going to prison for defending himself. He wasn’t going to let Scott ruin his life any further. He would just wait until tomorrow. Then he’d go to the café and find out where his phone was.
If it hadn’t died. If it had, he wasn’t sure what he would do. Calling his mom wasn’t an option. She would insist he go to the police.
Not to clear his name, though.
Norma Jean would want the attention and would feel self-righteous that she’d talked a murderer into turning himself in. Anything she did was for her own gain. Norma Jean never did anything out of the kindness of her heart.