Page 41 of Haunted

The longer he spoke, the more my heart shattered for the seventeen-year-old boy, forced to make an impossible choice, who’d grown into the twenty-eight-year-old man currently holding me as if his life depended on it. Tears flowed from my eyes while he recounted the trial and conviction; the unwarranted guilt he placed at his own feet for not discovering his father’s crimes sooner.

“It wasn’t your fault, Keaton,” I whimpered, tilting my head back to find his eyes.

“Can you forgive me?” He ignored my statement.

Struggling against his hold, I managed to turn in his arms, kneeling between his legs. Cupping his neck with my hands, I repeated, “It wasn’t your fault. There’s nothing to forgive.”

He swallowed roughly, then dropped his forehead to mine. “Okay, Little Bird.”

The ghosts of the past haunted him to this day, yet somehow this incredible man had risen above the shadows and soared. It was time for me to do the same.

“My mom was a prostitute.” I’d never spoken those words out loud before. As soon as they left my mouth I felt lighter, as if I was somehow released from invisible shackles. “She tried working regular jobs, but nothing ever paid the bills quite like selling her body.”

Strong hands rubbed gentle circles on my lower back, soothing the ache which lingered deep in my heart, as I continued to tell him about our life. God, I missed her so much. She was my rock and when she died, my world spiraled out of control. It was Nana’s idea to study social work; to keep her memory alive by helping others who had nowhere else to turn. I’d found my purpose, then Chase McArthur callously destroyed those dreams without a second thought.

“I’m so sorry, baby.” He kissed my forehead when I finished. “I’ve already got Nelson digging into that prick’s background. He’ll find something.”

His tone was absolute, as if there was no room for failure. While I appreciated his confidence more than I could express, I wouldn’t allow myself to get my hopes up just yet. There were too many ways it could all go sideways.

“We need to talk about one more thing, unfortunately.” He twisted, maneuvering us until we were lying on the pillows, my back to his front. I felt completely safe…cocooned in his presence.

“Did you happen to catch the press conference on the news this morning?”

I nodded. When Lanie had left for work, I’d been boredout of my skull, so I started flipping through the channels to see if I could find anything decent to watch when I’d come across it. Knowing there was a killer running around our town freaked me out.

Minutes passed before he finally spoke again. “The killer called me this afternoon.” His words had been so nonchalant, it took a second for them to register with my brain. I was well aware his job as an FBI agent was dangerous, but this? This wasn’t normal, was it? There had to be a reason.

“Why would he do that?”

“To taunt me,” he grunted. “Somehow, this fucker has a connection to my dad. He left a note with my name on it at the first crime scene here in Huntington, and there are aspects of the murders which are almost identical to the ones my father committed; parts which were never made public.”

“Holy shit.”

“It gets worse, Henley.” His grip around me tightened. He blew out a steady breath while my stomach twisted, bracing for the unknown. “He saw us together last night.”

Red-hot rage flamed in my belly, lighting a fire of indignation which spread over every inch of my body. My anger wasn’t directed at Keaton though. It was aimed at the asshole who’d caused the guilt I heard in his voice. Like somehow, he was at fault for being near me.

Fuck that!

Flipping over to face him, I planted my hands firmly on his broad chest, feeling the thundering beat of his heart through his button-down shirt. He was wired; his muscles trembling beneath my touch.

“Stop it,” I snapped. His head jerked back and his eyeswidened. “You’re taking on something that doesn’t belong to you.”

“You’re in danger because of me,” he hurled.

“Bullshit. I’m safe because of you.”

“Baby, you don’t understand.” The tension he carried in his shoulders deflated partially, but there was still an edge there I didn’t like.MyKeaton, the man who stood up against college bullies without batting an eye, was too busy listening to the echoes of the past to pay attention to the present. So, I did the only thing I could think of.

I kissed him.

8WE’RE ALL A LITTLE CRACKED

Keaton

Her succulent lips were like a beacon, lighting my way home through a tumultuous storm. The moment they touched mine, all thoughts of serial killers disintegrated; replaced with a pulsating desire for the woman in front of me. She’d meant to distract me, to pull me out of my head. Well…mission accomplished.

My tongue swept across her plump bottom lip and she opened without hesitation. Her taste exploded on my tongue; hints of mint from her toothpaste lingered but the rest was all her. Sweet and warm.My Little Bird.

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