"What's up?" he asked, not inviting her in.
She held out a cash bag. "No one has picked it up in several days. I thought I'd run it over to you since the gate's locked at the clubhouse, and I can't get ahold of anyone else."
"Thanks." He took the bag and tossed it onto the couch. "Is that it?"
"What's going on?" J.J.'s spine stiffened. "Every biker is gone. The Shack and diner are closed. There are people parked two RVs to a campsite, and Hank is nowhere in sight. All the tourists are going crazy, running their off-road machines where they don't belong, leaving trash by the river, and the parties go on and on through the night, the locals are complaining. I can't even tell you the number of people who came into the store wanting to purchase a fishing license, only to learn that no one was around to issue them one. They get pissed off at us, even though that's not our job."
"Is that all?"
J.J. gaped at him. "Are you serious? Jesus, Keenan, the town is falling apart, and everybody blames those of us who work at the store. Pete Carlson even hung around because he was afraid one of the tourists would hurt the cashiers. That's not cool. You or Demon need to do something about the chaos."
"I'll handle it."
"When?"
God damnit. All he needed was a few more days. Hopefully, by then, he could start helping a few of the other AFMC members get to their new normal.
"Tomorrow." He looked over her head, unsure if he would do a damn thing. "I'll go down to the river and talk to the campers."
In the distance, he caught movement. Scanning the area, he went beyond the empty acre in front of him and zeroed in on the clubhouse. The damn fence blocked most of his view of the grounds.
He couldn't be sure what he saw, but there was something out there. He hoped like hell it was a deer or moose wandering through town and not someone from the project.
"Keenan?"
He snapped his gaze back to J.J. "What?"
"What happened to you while you were away visiting relatives? You came back different." She frowned. "You haven't come over."
"Busy."
"Too busy for me?" J.J. shrugged when he refrained from answering. "Okay. So, yeah, let Demon know the town needs help from the club before everything falls apart."
"Will do."
J.J. shook her head and walked away from him, heading to her car. He stepped inside and shut the door. Right now, he needed to take care of Grace and get back to what he'd started.
In the bedroom doorway, he stopped. Grace slept propped up in bed with two pillows behind her. She hadn't undressed or slipped under the covers. The attack took everything from her.
He stayed with her, putting his plans for what he wanted to do to her on hold.
Chapter Seventeen
Keenan walked into the house and dumped a backpack and large tote on the floor of the kitchen. Grace got up from the table, recognizing her belongings from the Jeep.
"Thought you might want a change of clothes." Keenan hooked his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.
She studied him, looking for an ulterior motive for doing something nice for her. Had he pushed her Jeep over a cliff to get rid of the evidence that she was missing? Had he burned her tent, so it looked as if she had never stayed in the campground?
His gaze intensified. She sucked in her bottom lip. Over the last four days, she hadn't begged for her release. She hadn't searched for something to use to break out of the house. She hadn't spent any time thinking about what she'd do to kill him.
Mainly because her ribs made moving around difficult, and she'd spent that time sleeping, healing, and taking care of herself.
When she woke that morning, she felt ninety percent better—physically. She could take deep breaths, put on her shoes, and it felt wonderful to finally wash her hair when she took a shower while he was gone.
Mentally—she was shot.
"Thank you." She reached for her bags.
He picked them up before she could grab the handles. "I'll put them in the bedroom for you."
She followed him, eyeing the back of his vest, letting her gaze lower to his ass. He hadn't tried to kiss her again since the night of the attack. Part of her was relieved he kept his distance, and part of her was curious about why he hadn't tried again.
Those all-consuming thoughts bothered her. She shouldn't want him to kiss her.
He put her bags on top of the dresser. "Use whatever space you can find to put your clothes away. There are extra hangers in the closet."
The idea of moving in unsettled her. She'd rather live out of the bags as if at any minute he'd remove the locks on the doors and let her walk out.
She looked inside of the tote. Tears blurred her vision. It was only her clothes. Not even her best ones, but those outfits she'd brought to traipse through the forest in search of a fisher to photograph belonged to her. She brought the top shirt up to her nose and inhaled deeply. The slight meadow scent of her favorite laundry soap from back home clung to the material, reminding her of her sister.
Keenan fingered her hair, brushing it back from her face. She glanced at him and lowered the shirt. He would never understand what she was going through.
Out of everything she wanted, it was her sister who she needed.
Around all the confusion of who exactly had hired her to come to Avery Falls and Keenan's real name being Kyle Bowman, she wanted to be around someone who loved her unconditionally and wouldn't lie.
She wanted to feel safe again. To be somewhere that she could close her eyes and not worry about someone attacking her.
"Gracie?" he whispered.
At her nickname, she couldn't stop the tears. She turned away, shoving the shirt back in the tote.
Keenan wrapped his arms around her until he held her back against his chest. With her face hidden from his view, she closed her eyes and let the strong arms comfort her. Somewhere between being attacked and Keenan kissing her, she'd let her guard down around him.
She was tired of hurting and being scared. Even though he was the one keeping her from going home, he was the only person she could rely on to keep her safe, feed her, take care of her.
"You're going to be okay." He pressed his lips against the side of her head.
She could almost pretend to believe him. Desperate for someone to help her, she found herself turning to the very same man who'd put her in danger.
"Why did you bring me here?" She braced for the answer.
Ever since she'd found out he was the man behind hiring her—or she was told it was him—she wanted to know the reason why. Why was she brought here? Who was responsible? Why her?
"It wasn't me." His chest expanded before deflating against her back. "But I know who is responsible."
She turned in his arms, hopeful that this nightmare would soon end. "Who?"
He stared into her eyes and slowly shook his head, refusing to answer. She shoved against his chest. He tightened his arms.
Fighting a losing battle cut her to the core. She pushed against him, ignoring the twinge in her side.
She grunted, balling her hands and bringing her fists down on him. "Let. Me. Go."
Hatred heated her veins. Scorched and burned, she pushed with all her might.