“Babe, the entire fuckin’ town knows about the reward.”
I thought when Bohannan told me about it five minutes ago, that meant Dern had mentioned it to him.
Not everybody.
“Wait, what?” I demanded.
He jerked away from the counter when I made to stomp out again.
“Don’t,” he ordered tersely, holding up a hand. “It’s Dern. You had to know that was not a good call.”
“No, I had to do something.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Yes, I did.”
“Larue.”
“Bohannan.”
He glowered at me.
Another aside, I’d started it, he’d jumped on board, and now we’d fallen into the habit of calling each other by our last names.
I’d always loved my first name. It was the only good thing my mother and father gave me. I used it to concoct extravagant fantasies when I was a little girl about living in Paris and wearing fabulous clothes and eating croissants and dating artists who wore berets. These fantasies took me away from the neglect and loneliness that limned my childhood.
But the way his growly voice wrapped around Larue, I hoped he never again called me Delphine.
He leaned back against the counter, resumed his crossed-arm pose and shared, “I had to inform the FBI. They were about as happy you did that as I am.”
“I—”
“You are very, very safe here.”
With this new tone to his voice—low and purring and dangerous and exciting—I was transfixed.
“You might not be as safe somewhere else,” he went on. “Cut the crap, and for Christ’s sake, lay low.”
“I was speaking to the sheriff, and I told him that was an anonymous gesture. He promised me he would keep it to himself.”
“You were talking to Dern. He’s in deep shit because he’s got a predator on his patch who mutilated a little girl, so he’s gonna use everything he can to make that shit stink less, and he threw you right under that bus. Just you living in town is enough to turn people’s minds. The fact you stepped up like that gives it warmth he’s not getting. Me and Jace and Jess and David did what we could to get the word spread that you’re here because you wanted a private retreat, away from people who treat you like a celebrity. Most folks in this town are gonna be good with that. They’ll go to the mat to keep quiet and make things normal for you. But most folks are not all of them, and some of that rest would sell their grandmother’s used underwear if they thought it’d get them a few bucks.”
I made a face. “Gross.”
“You, of all people, know I’m right.”
I did.
My eyeballs studied the ceiling.
“It’s a little freaky how much you remind me of Celeste.”
I focused on him. “What a nice thing to say.”
“I meant it in the way you act like a teenager.”
“I’m deciding to take that as you find me girlish, which I’ve further decided to take as a compliment.”
“Of course you have.”
“If you’re grouchy because your son stole all the cupcakes, don’t take it out on me. You know where he lives.”
He tipped his head back and I liked the way he studied the ceiling a lot better than how I did it.
One last important note, Cade Bohannan looked absurdly incredible in a turtleneck.
“Speaking of your sons, where’s your other one?”
He righted his head and stated baldly, “Searching for a girl to bury his troubles in.”
My mouth tightened.
“We had a convo. He told me to fuck off.”
“Your daughter said much the same thing, and she was suspended for a week and grounded for two,” I pointed out.
(Yes, I’d learned quite a bit about the Bohannans, that happened when you fed people—the patriarch might not be a font of information, but food loosened his kids’ lips, or at least it did Jason’s.)
“She’s not an adult.”
“Mm-hmm,” I hummed, lacing the noise with how unconvinced I was by his lame defense.
Bohannan returned to unresponsive.
“I know it’s none of my business,” I began.
Bohannan re-entered the conversation. “You don’t know that. You know it became your business when I agreed to bring my family to dinner.”
I was taken aback.
But this needed to be confirmed, so I set about confirming it.
“Are you really giving me permission to meddle in your lives?”
He glanced pointedly at the Viking before looking back at me. “Are you really pretending you need permission?”
“Fair point,” I mumbled.
“So what’s none of your business?” he pushed.
This was serious, so I got serious.
“Jesse needs professional help.”
He nodded. “I got someone I talk to. In my line of business, shit can get dark. This is some of the darkest shit I’ve ever seen. So yeah, he needs some tools to deal. I’ve trained both my boys, this was not edited from their training. He’s just that fucked up by it.”
“I usually hate to point out the obvious, but this is a problem.”
Bohannan held my gaze.
And agreed, “Yeah, babe. This is a problem.”
Fourteen
Silent Treatment
I stood on my back deck and punched my phone with my finger.
I put it to my ear.
“What?” Bohannan greeted.
“I need to get out of here, or I’m going to kill somebody.”
“David says that’s the most complicated closet he’s ever seen. David says even the Kardashians wouldn’t dream up that closet. David says he’s installed a dozen custom closets, and they’ve all taken one to four days. And David says yours might not be done until his kid graduates from college.”
“I prefer you not talking.”
“You can’t ask a guy to build you a closet and then get hassled because it’s noisy.”
“And my clothes and shoes and handbags are strewn all over hell’s half acre.”
“I feel your pain.”
He did?
“Do you like clothes?”
“No, I had a wife who liked them, and she’d lose her shit if I put the clothes away, and I hung something pink in the wrong shade of pink section.”
“Not to defend a woman who walked out on you and your family, but that is a high crime in closet organization.”
“I was happy to be guilty. My punishment was that I didn’t have to put the clothes away.”
“I sense a scam.”
“Stop with the evasive maneuvers. You’re under house arrest.”
Why had I not worn sunglasses during our every interaction so he hadn’t been allowed to read me?
And what was the equivalent of sunglasses when you were talking on the phone?
“Bohannan.”
“The funeral was only a few days ago. Let Dern’s shit die down before you start showing up around town.”
“Bohannan, I can’t avoid town forever.”
“Give me three weeks.”
God, I hoped they found my stalker in less than three weeks. It had already been way more than that.