Chapter Three

CHAPTER THREE

W olfgang’s pickup truck rumbles down the dusty road, the familiar scent of leather and metal filling the cab. I rest my head against the window, the vibration humming through my skull as I watch the green hills blur by. Forrester’s buildings shrink in the rearview mirror, replaced by sprawling fields and distant woods.

We pull out onto the country road. Doubts wrap like dark tendrils around my heart.

“Is the circus open for business?” I ask, breaking the silence.

He snorts, a sound filled with derision. “Nah, they’re taking a break.”

“They must be going stir crazy,” I say, knowing they love the rapid pace.

The hard lines of his face are set in a grim expression. “Hardly likely to perform for the assholes who locked us up.”

“The sheriff?”

“The entire rinky-dink city that was too small for us in the first place. They don’t trust us,” he continues, eyes never leaving the road. “And we don’t trust them.”

The weight of his words settles in my chest.

The townspeople have always eyed the circus with suspicion, but now it’s worse. It’s like they’re waiting for them to slip up, to confirm their worst fears.

The term powder keg seems to apply.

I swallow around a knot. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault.”

“I’m supposed to believe everyone agrees with you?”

He sighs. “They’re worried. We’ve faced a lot of shit in our day, but this is a new one.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“Logan will. He always done.”

I offer a weak smile in return. “Right.”

We fall into silence, the only sounds are the engine’s growl and the crunch of gravel beneath the tires. My thoughts drift to Logan, locked away in that cell. The haunted look in his eyes lingers in my mind. He’s figured out plenty, built an entire community in the circus, but I’m not sure if he’s capable of doing it now.

The pickup truck continues its steady journey, each mile taking us farther from Forrester, farther from Logan. And deeper toward people who blame me for their problems.

“So, who is this lawyer? Did you guys check his references?”

A grunt. “We didn’t just hire him. He’s been working for the circus for years. Flies out whenever we need something. He’s real good.”

“Get murder charges often?”

“We get into enough trouble to test him.” He glances at me briefly before returning his focus to the road. “If anyone can save Logan, it’s him.”

“But it might not be enough,” I fill in, my voice flat. “Logan needs to get out of there. Sooner rather than later. The jail is wearing on him.”

“Because of his father.”

It’s not a question. “You know about that?”

“The surprise is that you do.”

“I can’t believe he’d think he was like him. Logan would never hurt anyone.”

A gruff throat clearing. “Well, that’s not strictly true.”

He did hurt my father. And Kyle. They deserved it. “He’d never hurt a woman, which is what his father did.”

Wolfgang tightens his grip on the wheel. “The past has its claws in all of us. Some people may think they’re free. That’s just an illusion. We never really get to move on.”

“Bullshit,” I say, frustration bubbling up inside me.

“Prove me wrong,” he replies, his voice tinged with a rare softness.

I can’t, because the past has its claws in me as deep as ever. Seems like he already knew that. I don’t enjoy being transparent. I turn back to the window, watching the landscape blur by. The silence between us is heavy, filled with unspoken doubts and what-ifs.

“Logan wouldn’t want you worrying like this,” he says.

“He doesn’t get a say right now,” I snap back, harsher than I intended.

A nod. “But going off half-cocked won’t help him.”

“I’m not going to sit on my ass and do nothing.”

Wolfgang’s lips twitch, the barest hint of a smile. “Stubborn as a mule, you are. No wonder he loves you.”

My heart stutters in my chest. Love.

The word hangs in the air between us, heavy with unspoken implications. I swallow hard, forcing myself to gaze out the window at the barren fields flying by. He told me he loved me. That was before. Now he doesn’t even want me to visit him. “What if he doesn’t love me?”

“He isn’t in jail right now because you’re a good lay.”

“Funny. That’s the only thing the town thinks I’m good for.”

“You love him back. Don’t bother denying it.”

Wasn’t going to. “He protects people. It’s what he does. Women, especially. Look at Alessandra. He took over the freaking circus for her.”

“He was young and hopeful and idealistic. The circus isn’t an easy life. It tends to crush people like him, but he turned it around. But he never loved her. I’ve known him for years and never seen him this gone over a woman.”

My throat feels thick. “All the more reason I need to fix this.”

“Told you. He’s going to fix it himself.”

The pickup truck rumbles into the old Hendrick’s farm. A once-vibrant Cirque des Miroirs camp feels eerily subdued. Every flag is furled, hanging limply against their poles. The usual cacophony of laughter, music, and shouts is absent. Instead, a heavy silence blankets everything.

Wolfgang pulls into the makeshift parking area and kills the engine. The sudden quiet is almost deafening after the constant rumble of the truck.

“Let’s get inside,” he says, stepping out and waiting for me to follow.

I walk through the grounds, my footsteps crunching on the sun-burned grass.

“Everyone’s on edge,” Wolfgang mutters, more to himself than to me.

It’s mostly deserted with the rare worker or performer moving with downcast eyes and hushed whispers, their faces etched with worry. A few glance at me with narrowed eyes. They’re suspicious of me. Maybe they’re right to be.

Wolfgang stops in front of the massive, modern RV that I recognize as the main operations center. Apparently it’s also serving as the command center for Logan’s defense. Its sleek exterior feels out of place among the vintage charm of the circus.

Before I can climb the metal steps, an elegant figure blocks my path.

The ringmaster stands there with his arms crossed and a dark eyebrow raised. His custom-tailored suit is as impeccable as ever, a sharp contrast to Wolfgang’s rough-edged masculinity. Pure hostility darkens his handsome face.

“Well, well,” Emerson drawls. “Look who decided to grace us with her presence. Quite the surprise, considering you’re the one who landed us in this mess.”

“Move aside,” I say stonily.

“Oh, I think you’ve done more than enough. Your little spat with Kyle—your friendly neighborhood sociopath—set off this chain of events.”

“Getting kidnapped isn’t exactly a spat. I didn’t ask for any of his.”

“True.” His gaze takes in my body from head to toe with insolent slowness. “I suppose your charms are just too irresistible to the rustic menfolk of this town.”

His derisive tone makes it clear what he thinks of my supposed charms.

My hands tighten into fists. “I’m going inside.”

Wolfgang steps toward his friend. “This isn’t helping.”

Emerson holds up his hands in mock surrender. “Et tu, Wolfgang?”

“Save your commentary for later,” Wolfgang growls. “For when Logan is out of jail and he can punch you in the face for it.”

I glare at Emerson. “I didn’t ask for any of this, but unlike some people, I’m not going to sit around and make snarky comments about it. I’m going to actually fix it.”

Emerson gives a charming smile, one that makes chills run down my spine. “Oh, I’m well aware of your penchant for action, darling. It’s just that your actions often lead us into delightful little predicaments.”

“You’re wasting your time, and what’s worse, you’re wasting Logan’s.”

“She’s right,” Wolfgang says. “Let her give her statement.”

Emerson rolls his eyes. “Fine, fine. Go ahead and tell them about how Patrick Cole beat Logan’s girlfriend. Nothing like a little motive to tighten up a case.”

Shit. “They also show a pattern of violent behavior. My dad got into fights with everyone. Which means everyone in town has motive.”

Emerson tilts his head, considering me. “You’ve got spirit. I’ll give you that.” He leans closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Though I can’t quite recall. Where did you get your law degree from?”

Wolfgang grunts. “Fuck off, Em. I’m serious.”

“Ah, I see Logan has assigned his guard dog to the task of protecting her.” He straightens up and gestures grandly toward the RV’s door. “After you, then, Miss Cole. I’m eager to watch you save the day. The fate of the circus is apparently in your hands.”