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9. Isla

9

ISLA

The picket line outside the grocery store was growing by the day. I couldn’t help but smile as I thought of Fox protesting the placement of Funyuns on the store shelves. He was so…quirky.

“What’s that smile for?” Riley asked. “We’re at the grocery store. What could possibly be so funny?”

“Fox,” I chuckled, shaking my head. “I was just wondering what he’s protesting now.”

“You know what I would protest?” she asked as we walked through the glass doors.

“The sale of alcohol on Sundays.”

She gave me the stink-eye. “Why would anyone protest that? Seriously, people need wine all days of the week, especially on Sundays when you know the next day you have to go back to work.”

“You work from home.”

“So do you,” she retorted. “What’s your point?”

“That since you work from home, you don’t technically go anywhere.”

“Oh, so because I work from a nice, cushy chair, I’m not really working?”

“Hey, I’m in the same boat as you,” I snapped. “Don’t judge.”

“You’re judging, not me. Mr. Judgy McJudgerson!”

“Ooh, good one,” I shot back, steering the cart away from her. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled, but I ignored it. There were no ghosts waiting to jump out at me at the grocery store.

But even Riley felt it. Her eyes scanned the aisles just as often as mine did, which was about every five seconds.

“Come on,” I muttered, trying to get us both to move. “There’s no one here.”

“Right,” she nodded. “We’re perfectly fine. There are no psychos hiding out in the bread aisle.”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. Do you know how many people buy keto bread?”

“That’s true. And fake tortillas.”

We were distracting ourselves as much as possible, but the tension rising between us was palpable.

Riley linked her arm with mine, which was completely unheard of. She was the last person in the world who would ever willingly act like a girlfriend with any woman, even me. And frankly, I felt the same way. Touching was not necessary.

“So, we’re going to walk through the grocery store like two normal people who weren’t recently almost killed by your crazy husband?—”

“Soon to be ex-husband,” I corrected.

“—and we’ll buy what we need, along with lots of wine, chocolate, and chips.”

We both looked at each other and grinned. “And Jujyfruits.”

I kept walking, feeling slightly less tense with every step I took. I could do this. I could totally go grocery shopping and behave like a normal person.

“Does it feel awkward?”

“Like people are staring at us?” Riley asked, her back just as stiff as mine.

“And they all know what happened and are waiting to see when the next thing will go down?”

“Like maybe the Unabomber will walk through the doors and strap us to a bomb. That seems like the logical next step in our story.”

“And maybe a pack of rabid wolves will attack as soon as we step outside.” We turned the aisle and I felt another shiver race down my spine. I spun around, glaring at…nobody. There wasn’t a single soul in the aisle, but I could have sworn someone was there, watching and waiting to make their move.

“I felt it, too,” Riley whispered.

“Why are you whispering?”

“Because somewhere in this store, there’s a psycho just waiting to kill us.”

“Then why are we still here?” I asked, wholeheartedly agreeing with her statement.

“Because if we walk out that door right now, we have to deal with the fact that he might follow us and murder us in cold blood right outside the grocery store, and that is not where I choose to be slaughtered.”

I stopped, quirking an eyebrow at her. “I’ve always wondered about that phrase. “Can you be murdered in warm blood?”

“It’s referencing the fact that little feeling was involved.”

“Right, but it’s murder,” I said thoughtfully. “Are there different levels of murder? Like, can someone murder you gently? And if there are different levels, who decides what category you fall into?”

“Allow me to be of service,” a familiar voice said, popping out and scaring the shit out of me.

“Fox!” I shouted, spinning around and punching him in the face.

He turned with the hit, shocked that I had actually put my hands on him. He rubbed his jaw, a wounded expression marring his face. “Geez, I just came to say hi.”

“You scared the shit out of me!” I shouted, not caring that I was drawing attention. “Don’t you know you can’t sneak up on people like that?”

“I didn’t intend to, but you started a very interesting conversation, and I didn’t want to interrupt.”

I pressed my hand to my racing heart, noting that Riley was doing the same. Thankfully, it wasn’t just me who was scared. I was just the only one who had sucker-punched a friend.

“What?” I asked, finally getting back to his statement.

“Oh, the whole good versus bad murder scenario. It’s a very interesting debate. And the answer is yes, there can be good murder and then very, very bad murder. I would know. It’s sort of my wheelhouse,” he grinned. “Although, the Kamau could definitely give you a better range of scenarios than I could. This is what he does.”

“The Kamau?” I asked, continuing down the aisle.

“It means Silent Warrior,” Riley filled me in.

Fox turned to her, completely awestruck. “Yes,” he said quietly. “How did you know?”

But she didn’t answer. Pushing the cart ahead, she continued as if he hadn’t asked the question. “Let’s say this scenario is true, what would you consider a good murder?”

We continued walking down the aisle, just about to turn as Fox started his rant. “Well, a good murder is taking someone out quickly and efficiently. The more horrible the reasons for the necessary murder, the worse it gets. And that’s where coldblooded comes in.”

“But wouldn’t it be coldblooded if I slid my knife across someone’s throat? Even if it ended quickly, it’s still a vicious attack.”

“Ah, but there is where the conundrum lies,” he answered, continuing our walk. “A quick murder signifies the distaste for the act, or an uneasy feeling in doing so.”

“Or maybe you just don’t have time to draw it out,” I muttered.

He quirked a brow at me, grinning slightly. “Doth I hear my vicious little friend plotting the murder of a certain ex-husband?”

“Only if he doesn’t sign the divorce papers soon.”

“Yes, but could you actually go through with it?”

That was the question. Even Riley looked at me for answers. Could I murder Shawn? Hell, no. I wanted him dead, for sure, but in a hypothetical sort of way. Even when IKE wanted to kill him, I couldn’t allow it. I wasn’t the type of woman to thrive on bloodlust.

“No.”

Riley pursed her lips. “I could.”

We turned another corner and headed down the next aisle. We were quickly running out of grocery store to wander through. “So, what, in your opinion, is cold-blooded murder?”

“Ah, ’tis the question of the hour,” he said, clutching his hands behind his back. “I recently had an epiphany of my own. I was going through what you may call a spiritual journey. But alas, at the end of that walk through the wilderness was a bright light at the end of the tunnel, calling me home.”

I stared at him with rapt attention. “What was it?”

He looked at me, his eyes burning with intensity. “It was a man defiling a child.” I flinched back in horror. “That was where I turned from a murderer to a cold-blooded murderer who enjoyed every single second of ending that miserable excuse for a human’s life.”

Riley chortled. “I would say that’s just plain old good murder.”

When we reached the end of the aisle, I realized we had walked through the entire grocery store, yet hadn’t put a single item in my shopping cart. And the answer of whether or not murder could be classified as good versus bad still eluded me.

“So,” Fox said cheerily. “What brought about such a topic with ye fair lasses?”

I glanced at Riley, wondering if we should tell him anything. After all, he worked with Kavanaugh and would probably run and tell him the moment we opened our mouths.

“Are we talking about hypothetical situations or real-life situations,” I pondered, winking at Riley to follow my lead.

“Ooh, I do love a good hypothetical situation. It’s sort of like—hypothetically speaking, if you were in an airplane that was about to go down, would you save everyone on board or the Funyuns stash no one else knows about?”

My eyebrows shot up at this hypothetical. “Um…is that really a choice?”

He barked out a laugh, clapping me on the shoulder. “I know, right? Like, who would choose to leave the Funyuns behind?”

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to tell Fox about our situation. He seemed to have a few screws loose, and as much as I liked him, I wasn’t sure I could gauge his reaction accurately.

“It was just a word game,” Riley cut in, seemingly on the same page as me. “How best to describe a situation you may be in. That sort of thing.”

“Ah, yes. I’m fond of a word game or two myself.” He glanced into the cart, then peered at both of us questioningly. “I feel like perhaps there is more going on than meets the eye.”

“Just an uneasy feeling,” I said quickly.

“Walking through the grocery store?” He looked around, then grabbed the both of us and pulled us flush against a shelf, knocking a few boxes to the ground. “Don’t say a word,” he whispered.

My heart ramped up as he slowly peeked around the corner. I looked at Riley with wide eyes, terrified more than I thought I ever would be in a grocery store.

“Follow my footsteps and don’t hesitate,” he said urgently.

Oh crap, there really was someone following us. I swallowed down the bile rising in my throat as he took off at a quick pace, staying close to the shelves down the aisle. Riley quickly followed his lead and I was right on her tail, trying not to glance over my shoulder every five seconds. We broke out of the aisle and Fox bumped into a middle-aged man, knocking him into a display. Food went skittering across the floor, gathering the attention of everyone nearby. The mess was astronomical, but I tore my gaze from the man covered in boxes as people rushed over to help.

I felt my shirt being tugged on, and before I knew it, I was being shoved through the door and Fox was tugging on our hands, running flat out across the parking lot until we were hiding behind a truck that I could only assume was his.

He peered over the bed of the truck, watching for anyone who came running out of the store. I did the same, holding onto Riley’s shirt as I held my breath. We were about to find out who was after us. But the seconds ticked by and no one exited the store. Three minutes passed and an old lady walked out, carrying a single bag in her hand, looking both ways before she crossed the street.

“I don’t think it was her that was following us.”

Fox’s gaze swiveled to meet mine. “Don’t let the old hag fool you. I’ve seen her take down someone twice her size with that cane of hers.”

I gaped at him in shock. “Why?”

Fox frowned at me. “The guy was trying to steal her purse.”

My mouth worked open and closed, but no words managed to move past my lips.

“So, she was defending herself,” Riley said.

Fox peered at me questioningly. “Defending herself or drawing in her prey? That old hag has a few tricks up her sleeve. Trust me, that’s no innocent woman you see.”

I shook my head, trying to work past his hatred of an old woman and moved on to the bigger picture. “So, no one was following us.”

“What?” Fox asked, his brows pinched in confusion.

“No one came out.”

“Well, of course, no one came out. There wasn’t anyone following you.”

“But—you had us running out of the grocery store. You shoved that man to the ground.”

He shrugged. “Evasive maneuvers. Now you know what to do when someone’s actually after you. Shall we do it again for practice?”

The bell rang and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Kavanaugh shot me a look of concern that I quickly brushed away, giving him a completely fake smile. “That must be the food.”

He followed me to the door, and I could practically feel his eyes boring into me as I swung the door open and smiled at the delivery man. “Thank you,” I said, handing over a tip that he gratefully took. All my bags were left on the doorstep as he rushed back to his car. My eyes quickly scanned the neighborhood, lingering a little too long on the spot where the gray car usually idled.

It wasn’t there today, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t show up later. The mystery stalker would always show up when I least suspected it. I grabbed two bags and turned, rushing right into the muscular body that smelled so enticing. Kavanaugh grabbed my arms, steadying me as I nearly tripped over my own feet.

“Oops,” I chuckled.

His eyes narrowed on me, then peered past me. Thick arms encircled me as he checked out the neighborhood as I just had. When he stepped back, I was flush with embarrassment. I forgot way too often that Kavanaugh would see everything if I wasn’t more careful.

“What were you looking for?”

“Hmm?” I asked, pushing past him to unload the groceries.

“Isla, I saw you. What were you looking for?”

I glanced over my shoulder, giving him a reassuring smile—something I did way too often. “Oh, nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he hissed. “I saw the look on your face. You were worried.”

“No, I wasn’t,” I laughed. “I was just looking around.”

“You were looking for something. ” He stalked around the table and headed right for me. I had nowhere to go, no clear escape route. He backed me against the counter, crowding me so much that I began to feel claustrophobic. “What aren’t you telling me, Little Red?”

I chuckled at the nickname. “Little Red? It’s not any better than Red. I hope you realize that.”

“Stop deflecting,” he grumbled, his eyes turning to steel. “What are you so worried about?”

I swallowed hard, my eyes searching the ground for anything that might give me inspiration, but as his fingers firmly gripped my chin and forced me to look up, I knew I had no way out.

“Isla, no lies. Trust goes both ways.”

Damn me and my stupid mouth. “There was a car.”

His whole body went rigid at my declaration. “The gray car?”

I nodded. “It’s not always around, but…”

“But you’ve seen it again.”

“It wasn’t there,” I rushed on. “I was just…” I trailed off, stopping myself from admitting that, for a moment, I thought it was who was following me in the grocery store, but that would open another can of worms that I didn’t want to get into.

“Dammit, why didn’t you tell me?” He pulled out his phone and immediately dialed who I could only imagine was someone he worked with.

“Kavanaugh—”

“Rae, I need you to pull up the outdoor camera footage at Isla’s house and tell me if you see a gray car hanging around any time over the last month.”

I loved the way he just ordered people around. Rolling my eyes at my inner dialogue, I waited for him to get what he needed from her. But the whole time, he never stepped away from me. If anything, he seemed to shift closer. One hand rested on the counter beside me, and his body eased right up against mine.

“Yeah, let me know when you find something. And tell Cash I need a team out here.”

“Kavanaugh—” I started, but his glare instantly cut me off. I snapped my mouth shut and tried not to be irritated with the scowl on his face.

The only thing I heard on this end was a bunch of grunts and irritated mutters until he finally hung up the phone. I kept my gaze focused on his shirt and the tiny hole that hovered right above his right nipple. But I could feel the weight of his stare on me. He was pissed, and things were about to get heated.

“Do you want to explain to me why you didn’t tell me the car was back?”

I sighed, unsure of what to tell him. “Because…because nothing ever happened.”

“It’s stalking,” Kavanaugh snapped. “All it takes is for this idiot to decide he wants to take it to the next level, and you’re dead!”

I inhaled sharply at his words, trying not to let the images of that night flood my mind. I heard him curse under his breath, and finally, he took a step back, giving me some much-needed space.

“Isla, I can’t protect you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

I could hear the weariness in his voice, and I hated that I caused that, but how did I tell him that I knew he’d react just like this without causing an argument? The last thing I wanted was to have men tromping through my house and additional security building up by the second.

“I…I understand that you want to take care of me, but…”

“But?”

“But this is too much,” I breathed out. “I’m trying to get back to normal and?—”

“And what? You don’t want to be safe?”

“I don’t want the constant reminder that something could happen,” I snapped. “Shawn is not coming back and?—”

“And you didn’t fucking tell me last time that something was going on. You kept all this shit to yourself and look at what happened.”

I flinched at his words, feeling like he was putting this all on me. And maybe it was my fault. But who actually believes their spouse will take things as far as murder?

“Christ…I’m sorry. I just want to keep you safe.” He tugged me into his arms and I tried to relax at his touch, but I was suffocating. Between the nightmares and the feeling of being watched today, the last thing I needed was an army of men at my door, reminding me that anything could happen at any moment. I just wanted this to be over.

Tears pricked my eyes, but I blinked them away. I didn’t want him to see me crying. “I don’t want this, Kavanaugh. I can’t?—”

“I know,” he sighed.

“I need my life back. All of this bullshit has to stop.” I stepped back, making him really see me. “That includes you putting men on me.”

“I don’t have anyone on you.”

I shot him a disbelieving look. “Then do you want to tell me why Fox was following me around today?”

“I didn’t do that. Where was he?”

“At the grocery store,” I snapped.

He glanced around at the bags piled around the kitchen, then turned his gaze on me. I fucked up. “You were at the store.” He narrowed his eyes at me when I didn’t answer. “And then you had them delivered. Why?”

I swallowed hard, taking a step back. “Because—” I looked around desperately for an excuse. Dammit, why was it always so hard to come up with the answers on the spot? “Because I ran into Fox. Isn’t that enough of a reason?”

Ha! That should throw him off.

But Kavanaugh was anything but gullible. He knew there was another reason. I could see it in his eyes. I took another step back and he followed. I felt the counter jab against my hip and winced. I was trapped. He closed in on me, his head quirked to the side in question. “So, you ran into Fox and just decided it would be easier to get groceries delivered.”

“Yep,” I said confidently.

His eyes assessed me, watching for any ticks. Hell, I had a lot of them, and he probably cataloged every single one by now. But that didn’t mean I was going to give in. Even as a kid, when I was backed into a corner, I kept fighting. This was no different. Kavanaugh was trying to draw out my lies so he could pounce and make my life a living hell with added security or suffocate me by watching my every move.

“Why do I not believe you?”

“Because you don’t believe me about anything?” I said, leaning back as much as possible. He took advantage and pressed closer to me, his nose running along my neck. Instead of feeling like he was about to kiss me, it was like the jaws of death were looming. He was about to attack my carotid, and when he did, I would be nothing but a puddle of blood on the floor.

“Why won’t you trust me?” he whispered.

“Because you haven’t given me much reason.” The confession was quiet, but it hit hard, making him sigh heavily, winding his fingers through my hair.

“I wish I could prove to you that I’m on your side, that all I want is to see you safe.”

His warmth washed over me, almost making me give in. I wanted so badly to trust him, but I kept seeing him on TV with that woman. Gorgeous and confident, he stood by her side even though it was only for a few minutes. He kept her from me for weeks. While he was making love to me, she was at home in their apartment. Had anything happened between them?

“I don’t doubt that,” I whimpered as he pressed a soft kiss to the base of my throat.

“You just doubt that I won’t lie to you again.”

When I didn’t immediately answer, he stepped back, leaving me cold and alone. I wrapped my arms around myself, not daring to look into his eyes.

“She was with you—living with you for weeks,” I said, admitting my fears. “I want to believe you when you say nothing happened, but…”

“But what? You think I would actually fuck another woman at the same time as you?”

My eyes slowly rose to meet his. “There are different ways to be intimate with another person.”

“I didn’t kiss her either.”

“That’s not what I meant.” I pursed my lips, not wanting to state my fears out loud.

He shook his head slightly, his eyes lit with confusion. “Isla, nothing happened between us.”

“No deep discussions?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

“You didn’t sit down and get to know each other?”

He started to shake his head again, but stopped. I pursed my lips, knowing it had happened. Not that a conversation was a criminal act, but all that time he was with her, they were getting to know each other, and I—I was here, completely unaware.

“Isla—”

“Let’s just…put a pin in it,” I sighed. “We could go around and around on this one.”

I turned around and started unpacking the groceries, ignoring the way his gaze dug into the back of my skull.

“I’m sorry I broke your trust.” Then I heard his footsteps exit the room and I was finally alone where I could breathe again.

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