He holds out a small tube of lipstick.
My lipstick.
The one I haven’t used since the note on the mirror. You’re in my thoughts, Ava.
He rolls it between his fingers. Slow. Deliberate. Like a magician circling the moment before the reveal.
“Did you enjoy my notes in New York?”
My pulse stutters.
Notes. Plural.
I didn’t see any notes in New York.
That’s good. Confusion can buy time.
“What notes?” I ask, keeping my voice light. Curious. Like I’m playing along instead of calculating exits.
I need to get out of this tin can and get help. Just because he faints at the sight of blood doesn’t mean he isn’t carrying a weapon.
I take a step back. Then another. Subtle. Measured.
“What notes?” he repeats, his smile stretching wider. Wrong. “Cute.”
Then he moves.
He’s on his feet in a second, lunging for me. “You’re all I can think about.”
I wrench my arm free and run.
When I burst out of the trailer, my shoe slips on the step. I stumble, pitching forward, the world tilting too fast.
I catch myself at the last second.
But not before two bony hands clamp down on my shoulders. “Baby, are you okay?” Pierce says, his disgusting breath against my neck. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, my darling.”
Then, from out of nowhere comes the rumble of a very pissed-off lumberjack. “I suggest you take your hands off my wife.”
CHAPTER 52
Ava
It’s almost surreal, seeing Pierce Maddox chained to a police interrogation table through the two-way glass.
It looks like a film set.
Except it isn’t.
I know, because every time the officer asks him a question, Pierce collapses into hysterics.
When he’s not threatening the man’s job, that is.
Harrison and I have been watching for half an hour now, standing side by side.
He hasn’t stopped holding me.
And I haven’t stopped wanting him to.
