Chapter 14

Killian Savage

Soft country music plays over the speakers at the gas station. I've never been a fan of the genre, but this particular song is ‘okay'. I'm more of a blues fan, and the more cities and towns I travel through, the more I realize that the genre is hard to come by.

I snap the bracelet Tori gave to me in time with the music as I search the frosty fridges for tonight's dinner. I have the urge to cook something, but here, where the options are limited to sandwiches, wraps, pizza, and a various array of junk food, my choices are limited to none.

Before, I used to cook all the time. Nice meals for her . For one of the persons who meant the world to me. Cooking had always been a way to escape my job, a task to make a few simple and ordinary ingredients into something that was bright and delicious and not so dark and daunting as my life was.

Now…now it's always dark. Now, I'm looking for meals to microwave, the past me almost gone yet trying to resurface in a gas station in the middle of Nowhere, Utah. I snap the bracelet against my wrist again as I stand in front of the pizzas, contemplating the reason that I have this urge to bring a part of myself back. Hell, even the urge to stay a little longer in Fairview than I had originally planned.

I avoid the topic in my thoughts, but I know it's because of a particular woman. The woman who reminds me of her. With Tori around, it's like she's still with me. I don't know if it makes me sane or insane for practically needing Tori for me to feel like I can breathe again. To feel like there's hope for me beyond my vengeance for this man who took everything from me in a single night. For a man who has to know that I'm coming for him. Why else would he disappear?

Bringing the bracelet up to my nose, I take a subtle whiff. It still has a faint, delicate scent of perfume on it, something Tori hasn't worn around me yet. I like the smell, but I prefer her own unique scent that's close to the lilies in the field that were witness to our first connection. The connection where she told me she killed someone.

It's wrong of me to feel closer to her for that than I have with anyone else since I was recruited into my past job? Killing sometimes happened. It was a hazard of the job… and the first time? That was the worst of them all. I don't know if I'm qualified to help her through this, and I don't even know if I can, but I do know that it makes me feel something for her. A deeper connection than the trust in the confession.

A part of me wants to avoid it, avoid her, but the other part of me knows that might be impossible.

I open the fridge and grab a cold cheeseburger, frustrated with myself that I'm deterring from my purpose. I should take the bracelet off and hand it back to her, but I don't think I have it in me to just . . . end whatever this is. I know it has to end at some point, yes. I'm not stupid. However, I am greedy, and that greed is the only thing stopping me. Greed for her. Greed for a sliver of what I once had.

Browsing the chip aisle, I ignore the ding of the gas station's doorbell like I've been ignoring the tune the cashier has been playing by tapping against the counter while she waits for me to make my choices.

When this person stops beside me though, I pretend not to notice because he's wearing a certain uniform that I try to avoid. I can feel his glances at me while he pretends to look at the chips with me, so it's no surprise when he asks, "You Killian Savage?"

I get a glimpse of him – short black hair, clean-shaven face, kind eyes – before I respond with, "Does it matter?"

I don't know how he knows my name, but I find that I don't like that he does. It makes me wonder what else he knows about me.

He picks up a bag of chips and looks at the back as if he cares about the ingredients. Anyone getting chips couldn't care less about what's inside them. No. He's pretending to care so that he has a reason to talk to me, and therefore, that means this is a purposeful visit.

"I'll take that as a yes," he murmurs.

"Take it however you want."

He places the bag back on the shelf and turns to face me. "I'm Pierce Hilton, the Sheriff."

"Lucky you."

Crossing his arms, he presses on. "Why are you here, Killian?"

Without looking at him, I raise my wrapped cheeseburger. "Food. "

He readjusts his arms as if my answer made him uncomfortable. We both know that wasn't the question he was asking. "I meant in Fairview."

"Just passing through," is all I rumble.

"People like you don't just pass through."

Narrowing my eyes, I finally turn to face him. He's shorter than I am, less built, but I give him credit because he doesn't cower. "People like me?"

His eyes sweep my body before they return to mine. "I know trouble when I see it."

"Who said I was looking for trouble?"

He matches my expression, and I know he's not going to back down until he gets his point across. "I looked into you, Killian. I know just about everything there is to know about Killian Savage. Well, almost everything. I still have some unanswered questions. Was hoping you could help me out with that."

My nostrils flare, and I push past him, saying, "This conversation is over."

The cashier watches warily as I place my sandwich on the counter, dig in my pocket for cash, and quickly pay her. "Keep the change," I mutter, and then I'm out the door.

"I know everything you've done. Everything you've lost. I can even guess at why you're just ‘passing through,'" Pierce says as he follows me past the gas pumps.

"Then I suppose that's enough to leave me alone," I grumble over my shoulder.

I hear him stop in his tracks, and he starts listing names. Names I'm familiar with. Names I've tried hard to forget because they're part of my life better left whispered into the abyss. It's enough to make me stop, however. "All people you worked for," he adds when I don't make a move to continue toward the sidewalk. "All people with deep pockets and a criminal list so long that law enforcement can't even put a finger on them."

"And how would you know that?" I ask, my heart beating fast. He knows more than I thought he would. Too much, in fact. I turn to face him once more.

His eyebrows are raised. "Because I was a cop in New York once. I know exactly who the people are that employed you."

Angrily, I slice an arm through the air. "My purpose for passing through has nothing to do with them. That was my past. That isn't my present."

A beat passes where he says nothing, but then he takes a few steps closer in my direction. "Pasts have a funny way of following us, no matter how far we run. I don't fully know what you're chasing, but I guarantee you that it has everything to do with your past. You're looking for something, and I have half a mind to believe it has to do with your employers."

"It doesn't." The words were bit out through clenched teeth.

"Forgive me if I don't believe you."

I turn on my heel and make my way to the sidewalk, absolutely done with this conversation. I've done nothing wrong here, and all he has is guesses. He has nothing to nail me with. He doesn't even know what I did for those people. If he did, I'd be arrested by now.

"I will find out, Killian!" he shouts at my back, still rooted in the spot I left him.

"Good luck with that," I shout back because I was careful back then. I'm still careful now, but my past? I knew how to hide my tracks. I knew how to be invisible until called upon by the snakes that employed me to do their dirty work. He'll find nothing to put me away for.