“So you don’t wear it because it reminds you of him?” he asks. His voice is carefully neutral, like he’s holding himself in check.
“No.” My lips pull up in a sad smile. “I don’t wear it because he, the devil, said it was the color of sin, of a whore, and after we were married, he had it eradicated from my wardrobe. Most things that gave me joy were slowly erased over time, so by the time I was stripped bare, with only him in my life, I had nothing left to cling to. So no, it’s not because it reminds me of him. It’s because he spent a great deal of time infecting my mind with the poison that to wear the color I love meant I was a slut.”
“Colors don’t make people sluts. I despise that word. Who in the hell thinks it’s okay to call another human being a slut for their perceived notion of what is acceptable behavior? If it’s legal, then folks should just mind their own business. They aren’t hurting anyone. We aren’t living in biblical times. It makes my faith in humanity shrivel whenever I hear this kind of shit.”
“Thisshitis nothing, Fox. The stories I could tell you won’t just make your humanity shrivel, it will make your balls turn tail and tuck inside your ass to escape the disgust.”
“Graphic imagery.”
“You have no idea.”
He taps his fingers on the steering wheel, and I can practicallyhear the wheels turning in his mind. I don’t prompt whatever it is he’s thinking. He will either explain, or not. In thirty seconds I will regret that thought…
“So,” he begins. “You have a husband?”
Fuck.
CHAPTER 27
FOX
Is obsession a personality flaw?
I’m unwinding the puzzle that is Cleo Williams one careful strand at a time, and she’s letting me. To heal, you have to face your demons head on, and for Cleo, that means opening up to someone who won’t use her demons against her. I think she may have told my gran some snippets, but I can see the darkness she has experienced is buried deep and has its claws around her heart.
She disappears into the kitchen as soon as we arrive home, muttering about preparing lunch and making sure Samuel is on target. I head to the pool house, deep in thought.
Samuel.I’m not sure why he’s trying so hard. He can get any woman in Red Lake to fall for him with a look and he chooses the one who fights him? He’s clueless how to handle someone like Cleo. He will panic the second he sees the beautiful yet chaotic mess underneath her exterior. Cleo doesn’t need a nice guy; she needs a strong one.
I drop the dress she chose onto her bed with a frown. Atbest, it’s basic, at worst, it’s bland—neither of which suit her. Opening her closet, I grab a couple of hangers and then write her a small note which I tack on before closing the door. My gaze lands on the duffle bag she was planning on making her escape with only a few nights ago. What worldly possessions does she deem important enough to carry with her as she runs?
My fingers twitch as I try to talk myself out of looking. Then it’s like my hands have a mind of their own and before I’m even aware of it, I’ve unzipped it and I’m rummaging around in what is essentially a bug out bag. It contains everything she’d need for at least two weeks of survival. My fingers graze across some strings.
I drag the item out with a frown and hold it in front of my face. “What in the everloving fuck?” I mutter as I turn the leather over in my hands. It’s some kind of corset, but it looks shaped to fit a real-life Barbie doll. The laces haven’t been undone, they’ve been cut. Ice tingles down my spine and a weird snarl rips from my throat as I piece together her eating habits and the snippets of information she’s given me about the man she’s running from. Some might think it’s weird to hold on to a remnant of their trauma, but it’s often used as a way to remind us of why we ran. One day, I hope she finds enough peace to burn every reminder of this piece of shit. But until then, I intend on showing her what being with someone who isn’t out to harm or change her feels like.
I stuff the offending leather back into the bottom of the bag and close the closet door before my eyes land on the bed as I replay having her in my arms. She’s a greedy kisser, passionate, demanding, hungry, and intoxicating. She stripped me bare with that one kiss, and now I need to know if it was really as good as I remember. The only way to test that is to repeat it. Perhaps she thought I would be put off by letting me have a taste of her. If so, she miscalculated.
After Itype in my and gran’s number into Cleo’s new phone, I change into a pair of sweats and then take off down the road for a run. My workout routine has gone to shit, and I need to get back on track. I swing a left out of the drive and circle the property border. It’s a solid five miles around, and a route I’ve taken a thousand times before. Which is why, when I’m a few yards past the garage and find a large hole in the thick bush surrounding our property, I know something is wrong.
I bend and stare through the large gap. Fresh footprints in the soil along with several cigarette butts suggest someone was here for an extended length of time, or had come back more than once. Dropping to my hands and knees, I’m easily able to climb through the bush, which isn’t good. I jog back to the garage and hunt in the back, finding the deer fencing we used on the opposite side of the property which is more open. I grab a few wooden posts and my grandpa’s tool box. The heat of the sun beats down on my back as I secure the fence into place, creating a new barrier. My quandary is, is this someone hunting Cleo, or someone who has found out about my own drama?
Surely, if the media had gotten wind of the accusations against me, they’d be camped out at the property gate. No, this feels like someone stalking their prey.
“What are you doing?” Cleo asks from behind me. I’d heard her approach, and had hoped I would be done with erecting the fence so she didn’t get spooked. She hands me an ice-cold glass of water.
“I do a sweep every few weeks to improve our security. I noticed a small gap, probably from a wild animal.”
She squats and tilts her head to look at the hole. A frown wrinkles her brow. “That’s some animal.”
“This is Texas. Any number of animals could have made that hole.”But none of them smoke.I already removed thecigarette butts. The last thing I need is for Cleo to get twitchy and leave before her month is up.
“Dinner will be ready in around an hour. Helen wanted it earlier, because she has a hot date with Henry.”
I don’t need to know the ins and outs of my grandmother’s sex life. “I’ll be there shortly.” I gulp the water and hand the empty glass back to her.
She scowls at the gap again before rising and heading back to the house. I need to make sure Cleo knows how to set the alarm in the pool house. It won’t keep people out, but it will give us a warning. I have no idea how dangerous her husband is. I had wondered if it’s mafia related, but I can’t see her marrying someone like that. It might be worth putting a few feelers out into the community and seeing if any of the big bosses are missing their wife.
I drag my phone out of my pocket as I stroll back to the garage to put the tool box away and send off a few messages to people who can help me exclude the mafia. My finger hovers over my lawyer’s name, but I change my mind and shove my phone back in my pocket. I can easily solve this myself by giving her a chance to enlighten me about how much danger she’s in—before I breach her trust and hunt for information she can freely give.
