Page 50 of Love Me Dangerous

“Dumpster near the park on the south end of town,” Rowdy says, carrying two plates to the breakfast counter.

I set my coffee down and pick up the pack. It feels light, like it’s been emptied. I unzip the top. Sure enough, everything is gone. I even check the secret panel for the money, but it’s not there.

Over half my savings, gone.

Rowdy walks over and sets my journal in front of me. “Found this nearby. Is it yours?”

Tears blur my eyes as I caress the cover, my fingers shaking. “Yeah.”

“Sofie can take you to where I found this if you want to look for anything else. After breakfast.”

I’m overcome by a sudden rush of anger. Sofie’s dad doesn’t even know me. Why is he so keen to help me?

“Around here, we take care of our own,” he says, as if reading my mind.

Understanding passes between us. He knows it was me who pulled his kids from the lake.

“Come eat,” Sofie says, touching my lower back as if she knows I need guidance.

Rowdy’s words echo through me. I have the urge to confront him—one of their own? Would he still think this if he knew some of the things I’ve done? Knew the mess I left behind?

And does his acceptance bind me to make promises to him I can’t keep?

I focus on my plate of warm eggs and sausage, but my fingers are still shaking.

Because I’m now inextricably tied to Finn River.

Will it be my downfall?

After Rowdy fills a dented thermos with the last of the coffee, he hugs Sofie goodbye and slips through the door. Fergie races after him. Through the kitchen window, the top edge of the horse trailer is visible. Moments later, the truck engine starts, and the trailer slips past, rattling over the pockmarks.

I think about where he’s headed, wearing that gun. Being a game warden in a place like this must be tough, even risky. Does Sofie worry about him not coming home?

Sofie scoops up both of our plates, drawing me back to the room.

“Stu Valentine wants to talk to you today,” Sofie says, continuing to the sink.

Hopefully not so he can fire me. “I need to talk to him too.” Moving off my stool sends hot pains through my right side and bites at my lung, but it’s already a little better today. More tolerable. If I could sleep, that would help a lot.

But the pain mixed with the worry that I’ve somehow landed on the wrong people’s radar has made sleep hard to come by.

I shuffle to the sink, where Sofie is rinsing the plates. “Can I help?”

“No,” she says, her tone brisk. “If you want, you can shower. I put fresh towels in the bathroom. Then we can go looking for your other things.”

She’s practically attacking the silverware, her jaw set, like she’s angry.

“Sofie.”

As if she doesn’t hear me, she turns away to drop the silverware into the dishwasher. After she shuts it, she grabs the rinse cloth from the bottom of the sink and starts scrubbing the sides.

“Hey,” I say, and cover the hand braced off the edge of the counter. There’s enough tension in her grip to rip it from the wall.

She slams the faucet handle off and inhales a sharp breath. “If they’d swung that bat a little higher,” she gets out before heaving a giant breath, “they could have killed you.”

“I know.”

She pushes off from the sink, tearing her hand from underneath mine, but I lock into her fingers. The resulting tug up my arm creates a stabbing pain in my chest, but I don’t let go.

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