Page 54 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

I try to swallow, but it’s painful against his grip. “Let me go, Hayden.”

“Not until I get some answers.”

“Stop.” I grip his forearms hard. The raw wounds under my band-aids burn from the pressure, but I don’t let up.

“Your brother’s getting awfully curious.”

“I told you I wouldn’t tell.”

He gives me a satisfied smirk and lets me go. “Good. We keep it that way, and I won’t tell him you’re sucking someone’s dick tonight.”

“Jealous?” I say, then instantly regret it because he slams the heel of his hand into my sternum so hard I lose all the air from my lungs.

“Damn it, Lexie,” he says, his face a twisted mix of anger and guilt. “If you could just keep your mouth shut.”

I cross my arm over my chest. I don’t think anything’s broken, but damn him. “I will.”

He steps back, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “Damn right.”

“If you know who killed Terrilyn, you owe it to her to tell the police.”

He chuckles softly. “I don’t owe her shit.”

“Hayden.” I can’t help but try one last time to get through to him.

For one fleeting moment, his menacing gaze falters, giving me a rare glimpse of the fear eating him alive. But before I can use it to talk some sense into him, he steps back and disappears behind the truck, his boots crunching over the spilled ice melting on the pavement.

ChapterFourteen

LEXIE

When I arriveat the house, Dawson’s music from the back porch blends with the distant hush of the river and the leaves stirring in the evening breeze. I take a moment to appreciate the way it brings me back into myself. I’m safe here.

After unlocking the front door with the code, I carry the groceries to the kitchen. Lifting the bag onto the counter makes my chest ache, and I wince.

The first time Hayden lost his temper, I had a bruise on my side for weeks. He apologized, brought me flowers, said it would never happen again. Like a fool, I believed him. When he got picked up by the Mavericks, he begged me to come along. Said it would be good for both of us to get out of Alaska. He would be traveling with the team and I could join him. We could see the world together.

When I turned him down, he flew into a rage. That was the second and last time he made me cry.

I had heard rumors about the kind of stuff Hayden and Vander were up to. When Hayden left for Oregon, I was relieved, mostly for him. Pro baseball would give him structure and an opportunity to make better choices.

If only he’d worked harder to stay out of trouble.

Now, I’m forced to keep his secret, or he’ll expose mine. He’s angry, and scared, which means he’ll lash out like that again if he feels threatened. I need to tread carefully.

Dawson finishes his song with a final harmony, his shoulders relaxed. Through the big glass window, I watch him take a sip of water, then start a new tune. He taps his foot in time with the easy way he cycles through the chords. The doors are closed, muting the music, but the melody melts through me, pricking my skin to gooseflesh. I’m dying to hear more, but I also don’t want to interrupt.

I mix up the chocolate torte and slide it into the oven, then get the rice cooking. Next, I squeeze lemons and press garlic for the sauce, which needs to reduce on low to concentrate the lemon flavor and the brine from the capers. Once that’s underway, I make a simple bruschetta and open one of their bottles of red wine to let it breathe.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s Hunter.

Instead of answering, I give my sauce a stir and type:

Can I call you tomorrow?

He replies with a thumbs up, then a message.

coffee at the Moose? 10:00?

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