Page 12 of Lost in the Moonlight

I’d seen them in the mirror. Worse, I’d seen them eat my father alive, changing him completely. If Dad hadn’t been murdered, the fatal familial insomnia would have gobbled him up and left only a vacant stare and angry, frightening words.

Worry for the man in the driver’s seat tightened my stomach briefly before I remembered that the likelihood of Lincoln having the same disease was astronomical. Only sixty or so families in the entire world had FFI running through their DNA. It wasn’t an actual sleeping disorder. It was a degenerative nerve disease, and it certainly would have been in the news if thepresident of the United States or his son had the mutated gene inside them.

Lincoln’s tired eyes were likely because he’d been unpacking, just like he’d said. Of the two of us sitting in the SUV, it was only me who might have the gene. It was only me living with the unknown because I couldn’t be tested while in witness protection. The risk of being identified as one of the rare people with the mutation would only increase the likelihood of the Viceroys finding me as they’d known my father had been diagnosed with it.

Not being sure if I carried the gene or not, on top of losing Dad, may have sent me into a tailspin for a few years, but now I just wanted to live as fully as possible within the bounds of witness protection protocols. It was an oxymoron of sorts, wanting to truly live while hiding at the same time. Just like it was an oxymoron to crave falling in love, knowing your own body might be the reason you can’t keep it. Asking someone to take such a staggering leap into the unknown with me was like asking someone to skydive without a parachute. And so far, no one had wanted to step out of the plane.

But even if I never found someone willing to take the hurdle, I still had dozens of other joyous adventures to mark off. And I had love in all its different forms. Family. Friends. I had passion in my life, even if it was for a job and for my craft rather than from bodies twined. I wouldn’t let what-ifs rule me any more than my early morning incident with a half-assed criminal.

Chapter Five

Lincoln

I KNOW WHERE I’VE BEEN

Performed by Elle King

The air in the vehicle smelledlike Willow, like browned butter and sugar, but it had turned from enticing and warm to withdrawn and cold in a nanosecond after she’d asked about my sleepless nights. It wasn’t just my reaction to her question but something else that had her mentally pushing away from me just as she’d physically pushed away from that man Poco.

It was for the better.

I didn’t want this beautiful and brave woman poking at me, pushing past barriers.

Hell, in mere minutes I’d given her more information than I’d given most of the people in my life. I’d trusted someone outside the family with my truths, and it had completely backfired with Felicity’s smear campaign.

This journey to Cherry Bay had to stay focused on recovering myself and burying the last of my ghosts. Maybe someday I’d be ready to let another woman into my life, but not now. Especiallynot someone my family would immediately see as a Sienna look-alike, even if Willow now seemed as different from Sienna as sunshine to moonlight.

If Willow left my car thinking I was an ass, it was better than her knowing just how attracted I was to her vibrant glow. The way she’d bounced back from Poco, the way she’d been able to smile even after what had happened, had hit me like rays peeking through a dense canopy of leaves. I had a feeling it would be all too easy for her to slip past my barely rebuilt defenses.

So instead of breaking the uncomfortable air, I left it there to stew and become stale. The only sound in the car became Willow’s light voice directing me to the alley behind the building The Tea Spot was in.

As I pulled up to the entrance, the tension in my shoulders rolled up another notch. Two large dumpsters cast shadows over the meek light put out from a single bulb hanging above the door. The headlights of the Rover could barely dispel them. The hail and rain that had forced me out of my home to drive Willow here had slowed but was still coming down fast enough to have my automated windshield wipers beat out a steady tune. Who knew what was hiding in the damp and darkness? Hardy, the former head of my Secret Service detail, would have completely objected to this setup.

“Poco know you’re here at this hour by yourself?” I asked before I could stop myself.

She tugged at a necklace. It had been tucked beneath her jacket earlier when she’d done the same. It was some sort of round charm I barely caught a glimpse of before she’d palmed it. “Most people in town know I do the baking, and that it means early hours.”

The wildly protective feelings I’d had all morning spiked once more. How many times had I wished I could go back in time and stop what had happened to the women in my life? But damn it, I didn’t know her. Didn’t owe her anything. She wasn’t someone I had an obligation to. I ground my teeth together, fighting with myself for too long before asking, “You got an alarm system in there?”

She huffed out a breath, half exasperation and half humor. “Yes.”

She opened the car door, and I instinctively reached out as if to draw her back. Instead, I settled my hand on her puffy jacket. It collapsed until I felt the thin arm beneath it like I had in the graveyard. It seemed so tiny. Fragile. A wing that could easily be broken. And now I couldn’t get that image out of my head. Her broken.

Damn it.

“You need to be careful, Willow,” I grunted out.

“I’ll be fine. I honestly think Poco will want to forget this as much as I do.” It sounded hopeful, wildly optimistic in a way that made me want to push at it.

“I wouldn’t count on it.” The man had looked too gleeful when he’d had her captured and all too pissed off when I’d intervened.

She slid out of the car, shifted a brightly colored patchwork bag onto her shoulder, and said, “Thank you again for helping me. Not many people would step up for others like you did.”

Her words slammed all my past failures into me like a punch to the gut. I could barely breathe, which made my words sharp and harsh as I insisted, “You can repay me by staying safe.”

Her lips curved upward as if she found my growliness humorous. My eyes lingered on those sweet lips shaped like a pretty bow, fuller on top and made for tasting. Licking. Enjoying.

Just not by me.

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