Page 43 of Protecting What Is Mine

Will he lose it right here? Would that be better?To Hank’s point, at least here we are literally surrounded by law enforcement. It’s a nice thought, but small comfort given the situation. Clint’s never been the type to lose control. Not in a place like this. He’s no criminal mastermind, but he’s not an idiot either.

No, as much as I wish he would react here and now, while Hank stands beside me—or more likely, in front of me—if I know anything about him, I know he won’t. That’s what has me scared, the fact that there’s no way of knowing when he’ll react. Only that he will.

I breathe in as I take another step, and time inches forward, heartbeat by heartbeat.

That’s it, one foot in front of the other. Just like that. Everything is fine.

I notice the wind gently push against the foliage of a tree at the end of the lot. A bird flying above, its wings in mid-flap. All of it, everything around me, inches along at a snail’s pace.

Clint can’t be more than fifteen feet away now. His eyes still focused on the ground in front of his feet. His gait, slow and heavy. He’s close enough for me to hear the curse words flying out of his mouth and bouncing off the pavement.

I feel Hank squeeze my hand as we take another step toward Clint. The gap between us shrinking further.

He’s ten feet away now and he still hasn’t looked up.

Maybe he won’t. Maybe he’s so caught up in whatever that he’ll walk right by and never notice a thing.

Probably sensing people in his periphery, Clint finally looks up, his icy blue eyes focusing directly at me.

Or maybe he will.

Clint’s pace doesn’t change. He’s past us in an instant. Without so much as a word spoken. To anyone else it would be nothing. No different than passing a stranger on a crowded city sidewalk.

But it was different.

In that flash of time, I watched him take notice of me, of my companion, and of the fear that must have been dripping from my body. And after all that, I watched his eyes come back to mine, with his signature cold stare and corrupt smile screaming that he’ll have his revenge.

Yep, pretty much my worst nightmare.

Time returns to its normal pace as Hank quickly glances over his shoulder and then leans in to whisper, “He didn’t even look back. Think maybe he didn’t recognize you?”

With my body still reeling from the spike of adrenaline, I’m not able to speak. I shake my head.

When we’re inside the building, Hank stops and turns me to face him. “Hey. Everything’s going to be alright.”

I look up at him as a tear rolls down my face. “How did this happen? Why was he here? Today of all days.”

Hank places his hands on my cheeks, wiping the tear with his thumb. “I don’t know, babe, but we’ll get to the bottom of it. Don’t worry. Please don’t worry. I’ve got you now. And I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

He guides me to a seat and then walks up to the desk to inform the deputy of our appointment with the sheriff. A few minutes later, we’re sitting in a large-ish office filled with pictures of strange people smiling while shaking hands with the man seated across from us.

“Thank you both for making the time to come in. Hank, your brother mentioned on the phone this morning that your friend may have some information regarding his case. Is that correct?”

Hank nods. “Mol, you want to tell Cody what happened?”

I look at Hank, then at Cody, but all I can think about is Clint. The look on his face. The revenge he’s likely already plotting at this very moment. “Why was he here?” I blurt. “He wasn’t supposed to know I came in, and…and…we ran into him in the parking lot. I mean…how does that even happen?”

Confused, Cody looks at Hank. “Who was here?”

“Mollie’s cousin, Clint. We passed him on the way in.” Hank looks over, offering me a chance to speak before he continues. “He’s the reason we came to see you.”

Cody pulls a notepad out of his shirt pocket and flips through several pages before stopping. “Clint Williams? Is that who you’re referring to?”

Hearing his name is almost too much. I’m afraid I can’t do this. That it’s a mistake to go through with it. That if I tell them anything, Clint will know it came from me.

When I don’t answer, Hank does. “Yep. That’s him. A real peach.” He glances at me, concern emanating from the crease between his eyebrows.

Cody apologizes and excuses himself for a minute. When the door closes, Hank turns to me. “Hey. What’s going on in there?” he asks as he gently traces his finger across my forehead. “Talk to me.”

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