When she smelled cigarette smoke wafting near her just outside her apartment complex, she stilled. It wasn’t the usual type of smoke, as it had a sweetness to it that turned her stomach. Clove cigarettes—she’d know that smell anywhere.
“Johnny,” she said as she came around the corner. “Do you still smoke those disgusting things?”
Johnny Porter, now in his midthirties, had remained handsome despite the passing years. He had sandy brown hair, brown eyes, and a wiry build. But what had fascinated Rose so many years ago—what had caught her in his web—was his smile. One of his front teeth had been chipped long ago, but when he smiled, it exuded pure charm.
His smile had taken down many strong men and women.
Johnny blew out a puff of smoke, which trailed into the night air. “Hullo, Rosie. Long time no see.”
Rose had her hand on her gun, which she carried in her jacket. She always carried her gun when she left her apartment.
Johnny smiled and tossed the cigarette, grinding it into the cement with his bootheel. “Aren’t you pretty? Did you do your hair yourself?”
“Did you come all the way here to talk about my hair?”
“Maybe.”
As he came into the light, Rose saw that he had a bruise marring his right cheek, and his lip was healing from a cut. When he noticed her looking at him, he smiled that smile that had once sent her to her knees.
Now she felt nothing at all, except a vague kind of disgust with herself for letting him take her in the way that he had.
“You’re a hard girl to find, you know. You bounce from Seattle without a word, and you end up here. In little ole Fair Haven. Who would’ve thought? Then again, I always knew you’d go back to your brother eventually. Your dear, dear brother.”
Rose’s grip tightened on the barrel of her gun. Johnny tilted his head to the side, studying her. Assessing her. She refused to tremble in front of him, or let him know how much she truly hated him.
“I almost have your money,” she said in a tight voice. “I just need another month or two.”
At that, his smile widened until his eyes were like slits. “Didn’t I tell you this isn’t about the money? Keep your money. Spend it on some furniture.” At her widening eyes, he just shook his head. “You know what I want, Rosie. I already told you.”
“I already told you I’m never going back to you.”
He clucked his tongue. “Never say never.” When he took a tendril of her hair between his fingers, she barely repressed a shudder. “We had good times together, didn’t we? You even told me you loved me, if I remember correctly.”
“I was stupid.”
His grip tightened on that strand of hair, but only slightly. He let it go with a shrug. “I’m a patient man, but I’m not that patient. Either you give me your answer, or I’ll make it for you.”
At that, she drew her gun from her jacket. No surprise registered on Johnny’s face, although Rose saw a flicker of admiration in his eyes.
“I told you that I’ll have your money, with interest. After that, we’re done.” She unhooked the safety; her aim was true and steady. “Because I’m not that girl anymore.”
“No, you’re definitely not that girl anymore. You’re gorgeous when you’re angry, by the way.”
She didn’t move, just kept her aim trained at his heart. “Get out of here before I have you arrested.”
“And then have all of your brother’s secrets revealed? I doubt it.” He pushed the gun down, shaking his head.
Rose wanted to shoot him straight through the heart. Her finger ached to pull the trigger, to the point that her eyes watered. It could all be over in one instant.
“You’re not a killer. Now, how about you stop acting like an idiot and give in?” He still had his hand on the gun, but then his fingers inched up until they gripped her wrist, his fingers digging into her skin so hard she had to stifle a gasp of pain. “How about you stop fucking with me and come back to Seattle?”
She tried to pull away, but in a swift movement, he took her gun, pulled out the bullets, and tossed them down into a nearby stairwell. He handed her back the gun with a sad smile.
“Make a decision. I’ll be waiting.” He moved so close to her that she could smell his clove-scented breath.
He’d once told her he smoked clove cigarettes for the novelty of them, and because he wanted people to remember him every time they met. I am memorable, aren’t I, Rosie?
“You have two weeks. I have to go back to Seattle for some business. Lucky you. But after that?” He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. “You’re mine.”
Rose only moved from her spot when she heard a car driving off into the night. She knew she was trembling, but somehow it didn’t register that she was the one shaking. She knew she was disassociating—she’d heard the word from a therapist she’d gone to all of two times when she’d had the money.
She didn’t want to associate with her body, with her mind, with her memories. It made sense to separate herself, didn’t it?
She didn’t remember moving from that spot, or unlocking her apartment door, or going to her bedroom to load her gun again. She only came back to herself when Callie barked a warning at her. That was when she had to kneel on the floor to catch her breath. Dizziness swamped her, but mostly it was the fear that clutched at her throat until she was sure she was drowning.
She went to the kitchen, slamming cabinets. She shut her bedroom door until it shook her apartment. It was as if she needed the noise to confirm she was still alive. That she was still here.
When she heard the pounding on her door and then someone calling her name, she didn’t hesitate. Adrenaline raced through her, and as anger burst inside her in waves, she hoped to God that it was Johnny returning so she could go through with shooting him in the heart.
“Rose, are you—?”
And without blinking an eye, she leveled her gun not at Johnny’s heart this time, but at Seth Thornton’s.
Seth, being the soldier that he was, didn’t yell or freak out. He stilled, slowly raising his hands to show that he didn’t have a weapon.
Logically, she knew he wasn’t a threat, yet she couldn’t lower her gun. Fear and anger filled her, and it was like she and Seth had become statues in some bizarre pantomime.
Neither moved for a long moment.
“Rose, lower the gun. I’m not going to hurt you.” When Seth moved toward her, Callie growled a warning. He stayed put.
Then, once again: “Rose. Hey, it’s me. Seth, your neighbor. Put the gun down.”
She lowered the gun. She put the safety back on and set it on a nearby table.
“What do you want?” she asked Seth in a hoarse voice. Callie stayed by her side, her constant guard.
Seth shrugged. “Well, all things considered, I’d say you owe me a glass of something hard. Got any whiskey, by chance?”
Chapter Four
Seth had stared down the barrel of a gun many times, but never had his potential assailant been a beautiful woman. A beautiful woman who also happened to be his neighbor.
Oddly enough, he didn’t feel afraid having Rose point a gun at him: he felt pride. She knew how to handle a gun, and her stance bespoke a woman who had done a lot of practicing with the weapon in her hand.