Page 7 of Veiled

I laugh when I see the middle finger emoji waiting for me on my phone from Jenny, like I knew I would, and put my phone back in my pocket. Cujo follows me happily up the stairs and into my bedroom as I find my suitcase in the closet to start packing for my flight. Trying not to think too much about what the hell he could be doing in Tennessee.

He’s not from there. He was born in Texas. As far as I know, he doesn’t have any family there.

Cujo jumps up on the bed and tries to pack himself, but I carefully remove him from lying on my clean clothes and point at him. “And do not eat Auntie Jenny’s shoes, or I swear she’ll take you to the pound. And we can’t have that.”

He cocks his head to the side, listening to me, and I can’t help sitting next to him and petting him while he climbs onto my lap.

“She won’t. But knowing her petty ass, she will order a bigass steak and eat it right in front of you out of spite. So be good.”

He just pants happily as I pet him, and then I finish packing before dropping my dog off at Jenny’s house. Saying a silent prayer that he doesn’t tear up her house and I won’t owe Jenny too many damn shoes when this whole thing is over.

I shouldn’t be flying to Tennessee tonight.

I shouldn’t be chasing a guy who doesn’t want to be chased.

But I can’t just leave it alone.

He’s not okay. I can feel it deep in my bones.

And for whatever damn reason, if Justin isn’t okay, I’m not okay.

Chapter Three

WAYLON

This cannot be the right address.

I thought maybe it would be a bigger town, like Memphis or Nashville. At least civilization.

But this town?

This place where I think I blinked and missed the actual town because I didn’t see one coffee shop. Not one store. Nothing in the city limits except a bar and a post office building smaller than my bedroom.

This can’t be right.

I drive down the old, paved road in the rental Jeep I picked up at the airport and hope Soren got the address wrong. I flew into Nashville, but I’ve been driving for two damn hours now, and the navigation tells me I’m two minutes from my destination.

This can’t be right.

It just can’t.

I have to admit the scenery is gorgeous. I’m surrounded by trees as the Jeep climbs up a hill, and when the navigation says to turn off the road, I do it, pulling up to a row of five cabins on the top of the hill.

I check the address again as I park in front of one of them.

I don’t see a soul in sight. There aren’t even any cars parked outside of the cabins, and I don’t see garages.

This is it. This is how I die.

The city boy comes out to the hills, deep in Tennessee country, and dies. Wild animal? Maybe. Falls off a cliff? Possibly. Crazy hillbilly with a gun? Could be.

Goodbye, cruel world.

I climb out of the Jeep and shut the door, just as a truck that looks brand-new but is covered in dirt pulls up. My heart is racing in my chest as I await my fate when the door to the truck swings open and Justin climbs out, his eyes hard and angry.

He slams the door and stalks up to me, looking pretty much the same as last time I saw him. No leather jacket though. Despite the sun starting to set, it’s still pretty sweltering out here, with humidity that nearly steals your breath away.

He’s wearing worn-looking jeans and black boots with a black t-shirt that clings to every ridge of chiseled muscle. His hair is a little bit longer, the black strands hanging over his eyes.

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