Page 19 of Second Chance Serenity

“Carter. It was probably just a mugging. I doubt the guy is coming back.”

“None of your cards have been used.”

“So? It’s been less than twenty-four hours. Maybe he’s?—”

“He told you he was coming back.”

I can still feel the heat of his breath against my neck, the way his arm banded around my chest. My heart rate kicks up as panic sets in. It’s been years since I struggled with anxiety the way I have in the past few hours. And having someone to watch my back until we know for sure what the motive was might ease it. “Fine. I’ll talk to them. But I think it’s unnecessary.”

“Thank you.” He pulls me in for a hug. “Let’s go. Get your shoes.”

“Go where?”

“I made an appointment with Knight Security for this afternoon.”

“You did what?” I stare at him, trying to process how this went from a, fine, I’ll talk to them, to a, let’s go, it’s time for your appointment.

“It’s in thirty. We better hurry.”

“How did you? When did you?—?”

“I had a hunch I could talk you into it. Besides, if you hadn’t caved for me, I had Dad on the back burner. Then Mom after him.”

At that exact time, my father walks out of the kitchen. It’s his lunch break, so he’s covered in grease from the automotive shop he runs. A half sandwich in hand, he looks at me and shrugs. “We love you, Reyna.”

“You guys are turds.” I lightly punch Carter in the arm, and he wraps his around me.

“We know. But we love you. Now, shoes.”

With a light laugh, I head down the hall and step into the room I’ve lived in most of my life. Should I have gone to my house after I got out of the hospital? Probably, but the idea of being alone right now terrifies me.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I can go home. Until then, I’m going to stay here with my parents.

After sitting on my bed and putting on my tennis shoes, I get down on the floor and withdraw an aged cardboard box. I stare down at the lid for a while. Every memory I have with Michael. Everything he gave me fits in this box. It’s how I’ve coped with the loss of what we’d shared. I put it in here, shut the lid, and refused to let myself think about it.

Shoving it back under the bed, I stand and grab my sweatshirt.

If only I could leave my still-broken heart inside that box, too.

CHAPTER 7

Michael

Reyna’s attacker stands frozen on my computer screen. I’ve watched the footage more times than I can count, searching for anything that might help us ID him. I traced his steps from off-camera through the parking lot, until he hid behind her car.

It’s not until she was distracted by the rain that the coward risked jumping out.

And she fought back.

I pop a fresh piece of gum into my mouth, barely noting the minty flavor as I refocus again on the scene that took place in that parking lot.

“Dude, you’re going to drive yourself insane staring at it,” Jaxson comments.

I look up at the former LAPD detective, who’d moved out here nearly a year ago to work with us full-time. “There has to be something here.”

“There’s not. Elijah’s run him through recognition software, but nothing has popped. There were no prints, he dropped nothing. Right now, Reyna is the only link we have to the guy.”

I lean back in my chair. “We have to find him.”

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