Chapter 3

Killian Savage

Welcome to Fairview .

I stare at the aged stone sign as I stand on the side of the rough road with my backpack slung over my right shoulder. I don't need to be ‘welcomed.' I just need a place to sleep for a few days.

My backpack strap starts to slip, so I readjust its position, wipe a hand over my tired eyes, and face forward. Through the haze, I can see the town – short squatting buildings in the center and townhomes dotted around it. And in the background, great hills and small mountains lift toward the gray, puffy clouds. Their surface is layered with bright green trees that sway in the wind.

It may be dawn, it may be sprinkling, and it may be small, but there it is. My destination. A far cry from New York, New York. I suppose my entire life is a far cry from the one I led back in the big city . . . Before everything changed.

My foot crunches on the gravel that's sprawled out on the shoulder of the road as I move forward. I hadn't walked here from the city. I took a few buses, but mostly, I hitchhiked. You'd be surprised how many people pull over for a drifter.

My last ride ended in Mount Pleasant, and I walked the rest of the way overnight. I could have easily stayed there, found a place to sleep like I normally do, but for some odd reason, Fairview is where I wanted to be.

I pull out my burner phone from my back pocket and swipe my finger around the screen to get through the password. It takes a second for me to pull up the browser. I'd done my research. Population under two thousand. They have a popular bakery, hiking trails, cabins, and fishing. Aside from the murder that happened last year, Fairview is a quiet town surrounded by peace. Or so it seems. Because every town has its secrets. It doesn't matter. I have every intention of staying for just a few days before I wander off again. My purpose isn't to live here because I won't rest until I find him. But even I have to admit that the small reprieve Fairview might offer is appealing.

I'm tired. Tired of wandering, tired of no answers, and tired of looking for a ghost, but I know he exists. I've lain eyes on him, broke his fingers and tore off his toenails, and watched him bleed from the deep gashes I gave him on his face. I heard him scream. And as soon as I let him go, he stole everything from me for what I'd done.

Often, I daydream about how I'll make him pay. Often, my fantasies get wild, but I have time to sort out every detail.

I pocket my phone when I reach the first townhouse. It may still be morning, but people are already awake and stretching their legs. An old lady walks her small dog along the sidewalk, eyeing me with curiosity. Her gaze rakes down my body, from my long hair tied back in a bun to my beaten leather jacket, and down to my tattooed hands. She pauses there but just for a second before coming to a conclusion and scurrying off with her dog.

She's not the only person who stares as I make my way toward the center of town. I pass cars with people who crane their necks to get a good look and window peepers who snap the curtain shut as soon as I look them square in the eye.

I get it. I'm a stranger, and I don't look friendly, but I make it a habit to not pretend to be someone I'm not.

Take me as I am, or leave me the hell alone.

It doesn't take long for me to reach the center of town. I pull out my phone again, checking the time because the place I want to go has a certain time they're open. Satisfied that they're accepting customers, I stride in the direction of the second-hand store.

Two trucks are parked outside the store. As soon as I open the door, a bell rings to announce my arrival. I take in the musty scent of used clothes and pause by the door as I get a good look around.

A balding man with a comb-over and glasses too large for his face glances up at me. A frown makes his eyebrows dip under the rims. "Can I help you?" he asks.

But I keep looking. There were two trucks parked outside, meaning at least two people are in the store. It takes me only a second to find the other person.

Balanced on a ladder is a man my age – mid-thirties. His build is similar to mine, but that's where our appearances' similarities end. Where he has short-cropped dark hair, I have long, light brown hair. Stubble lines his jaw, but I keep mine clean-shaven.

He's screwing in a lightbulb, but even from here, from the set of his hard eyes to the flex of his jaw, I can tell he has demons. People like us know when we see one of our own.

As if finally aware of my presence, he glances down at me. If he's curious about me, he doesn't give it away in even a flicker of expression.

"Sir?" the man behind the counter calls again. "Is there something you're looking for?"

"Yes," is all I say. I shoulder my backpack higher, step forward, and make my way to the men's section. I hear the man call the guy down from the ladder, giving him the name of Cole as he summons him to his side for a private chat. Probably about me. I look up from browsing shirts and find two sets of eyes on me. Definitely about me.

Ignoring them because I really don't give a shit, I pick up a plain black shirt that'll do. It's broad in the shoulders and, therefore, will fit mine.

In my backpack, I only have one change of clothes, and those need to be washed. Despite my leather jacket, the clothes on my back are wet from the drizzle. I have no intention of being soaked while I search for a place to stay.

There isn't much else in my backpack. A picture, a phone charger, some food, a bottle of water, and shower supplies. I don't need much. Never have.

Shirt in hand, I head to the counter under the watchful eye of both men. I set it down on the surface and flick my gaze between both men while I dig in my pocket for a few dollar bills.

The one called Cole crosses his arms over his chest and leans his spine against the wall as he studies me. The other man scowls while he rings up my shirt. "New to town?" he asks.

I give a curt nod.

"Here for business? "

I raise one eyebrow at his questions. "Pleasure." Sort of.

He gives me small nods while he types in the amount of the shirt into the cash register. "Don't see many guys like you around here. Derek," he introduces himself, holding out a hand for me to take. I decide to play nice and shake it. His hand is too soft against my calloused palm, and I have the sudden urge to wipe it on my black jeans. "And you are?"

"Killian," I answer gruffly.

"Well, Killian," he says, blowing out a breath and pushing his glasses farther up his nose, "that leather jacket won't hold up to our spring. Can I interest you in a raincoat?"

The tip of his head in the direction behind me makes me slowly turn to look at what he's gesturing at. By the front door sits a rack of bright orange raincoats. Their material shines under the light of the store.

Just as slowly, I turn back around. "Orange isn't my color."

He shrugs indifferently. "Suit yourself."

I hand over my money and wait for him to give me the change. While I'm waiting, Cole grunts, "Where are you staying?"

I meet his blank expression square on. He may give nothing away on his face, but his tone says it all. It's guarded and protective. "Haven't decided yet."

"Tori Townsend just opened a B&B," Derek states while he passes me back my change. I pocket it and watch as Cole stiffens. He continues, "As far as I know, it's not currently reserved. Do you want her number?"

A bed and breakfast is a hell of a lot better than anything I had planned. I give him a curt nod, and he pulls a pad of paper from beside the register. He must have her number memorized because he jots it down quickly and passes over the paper.

I take it, study the number, and mutter my thanks as I pick up my shirt. I turn and head toward the door, listening to the two of them bicker quietly at my back. When my hand is on the door handle, I pause as Cole grunts at my back, "Killian? What's your last name?"

The corner of my lips rises. Wouldn't you like to know?

The bell dings when I shove the door open and step back into the drizzle. As I walk back down the sidewalk, I bring out my phone again and make the call to the B&B woman.

She answers on the third ring.