Page 13 of A Beta Protects

I put my hands back on the steering wheel, the hard plastic getting increasingly hot from the sun beaming onto it.

I seized on the opportunity to stay here for Dom’s birthday, but is that really the right decision to make when Bryce is already working all his and his dad’s cop connections to hunt me down?

The smart thing to do would be to turn this car around and head for Alaska.

My gaze slides to my fuel gauge. It’s not the first time I’ve checked it. The question I had before is the same one I have now.

Can you make it to Alaska with a quarter of gas in the tank?

The farmhouse’s front door swings open. It’s the strangest thing, but I have a feeling I know exactly who it will be.

Dom.

He never told me his last name back in Missouri. He was, for the longest time, just Dom, Aaron’s new neighbor and suddenly the best friend I had to meet.

I’d been so curious. Palmerston is a small town, and there weren’t new friends to meet. Everyone was already friends with everyone.

Aaron didn’t stay in town for long. Maybe a month or two and he’d be off on another deployment for months and months at a time.

We inherited our parents' home when they died, fully paid for, and since I lived with Bryce at his house, that was where Aaron stayed when he was home.

Because it was home, we had never been interested in selling it, so I cleaned it and kept up with the gardening when Aaron was away.

I didn’t mind. It was an excuse to be away from Bryce, so I took my time.

Our old neighbor died and his daughter rented the place out so she could afford the expensive New York life she didn’t want to give up, but would always have a home to come back to if she ever got tired of paying three thousand dollars a month for a studio in Manhattan.

I was curious about meeting Aaron’s friend, the new renter next door, so I didn’t hesitate to say yes. A husband should always accompany his wife on events, Bryce told me when I asked for permission.

To keep her safe. Naturally.

I’d made the salad Aaron always loved for his BBQ, dressing modestly as Bryce preferred his sweet wife to dress.

Dom barely spoke five words to me, ate a mouthful of my salad, and left early.

Every single time I saw him in the grocery store or in town, when I was with Aaron or Bryce, he could never wait for the first opportunity to get away from me.

It was so blindingly obvious that Bryce decided a husband didn’t need to accompany his wife to every single event to keep her safe anymore. At least when it came to Dom, who couldn’t have made it any clearer that he wanted nothing to do with me.

Our gazes connect across the feet separating the front porch and my car.

His expression doesn’t change, but he must be wondering what I’m doing roasting in my car with all the windows rolled up.

I tell myself to start up my engine, put my car in reverse and hightail it from Wylder, because if Bryce found me here, he wouldn’t hesitate to shoot Dom.

I don’t because I’m not a strong person. Not anymore. Maybe I once was. I don’t feel like the same Kira Matheson I was before Bryce turned her into Kira Peters.

I became needy. Jumpy. Flinching at the smallest things. Always smiling.

Bryce Peter’s perfect wife.

I hated that woman before I left, and I hate her now.

That cop lied to Bryce, which means I have an opportunity to earn a bit of cash, hide out a little and get even further away from Bryce because suddenly, even Alaska doesn’t seem far enough. Australia would be ideal.

I tug my key out of the ignition and I get out of my car, slamming the door shut. And I walk over to the front porch where Dom hasn’t moved. He’s here to talk to me about something so obvious, that of course he couldn’t have missed it.

“You know, don’t you?” I ask, stopping at the foot of the porch.

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