Chapter Sixteen: Happiness

Chapter Sixteen

Willow

HAPPINESS

Performed by The Fray

My morning had started with a joyfulness that had been contagious.

After Mom had taken me and the trays of miniature desserts to the café on her way out of town for the decathlon, Hector had walked her out to the car. Shay and I had given each other a high five. And when Hector had come back, beaming and doing a little two-step as he said he was practicing for his date with Mom, we'd hugged each other and did our own dance.

"What made you finally ask her out?" Shay had demanded.

"Did you see how beautiful she looked? How could I not?" His grin had slipped as his eyes met mine. "I should have asked you first."

I'd shaken my head. "Of course you shouldn't have! And I'm thrilled. Honestly. Shay and I have been plotting ways to force your hand for weeks."

He'd brushed a hand over his hair in an awkward and endearing way, but a customer asking him about the new desserts had let him escape without having to respond. The smile on his face had remained, leaving happiness in its wake.

Shay had given me another one-sided hug, done the same with her dad, and then left for school. Even though I technically wasn't working, I'd spent a few more minutes futzing with the desserts and listening to Hector's conversation about them while pleasure danced through me.

As I'd stood up from the case, I'd come eye to eye with Poco in a black jacket with a black beanie pulled low on his brow. The look on his face had been all smug satisfaction that had slithered along my spine.

"You lied to me, Willow," he'd said with a hint of anger mixing in with a sneer.

"And what exactly did I lie to you about?"

"You said you weren't dating, and yet it seems you've got a man trailing your every move."

"Other than you?"

That icky grin had grown, and he'd replied, "Always surprising what you find when you start pulling back someone's layers."

My breath had caught as my mind whirled with questions. Had he found something out? About me? About my past?

"I thought I'd get a glimpse of the wild in you once you were off your leash." His tone had been full of the same dirty innuendos it had held in the graveyard. His gaze had dropped to my mouth and lower to my breasts. When his look had made it back to my face, he'd licked his lips, and I hadn't been able to help the shudder that had gone through me. "Maybe I'll get to see you beg instead. People do all sorts of things when they're pushed up against a wall."

My body had frozen, feet melding with the tile floor, and blood had pounded in my ears.

What does he know?

But then, the truth had settled over me. He knew nothing. He couldn't. The Marshals had never lost a witness following protocol. Not once. And while we were no longer in active protection because the trial was over and done with, we were still following all their rules.

Poco had just been tossing out taunts because he was pissed Lincoln had saved me and had been there every time he'd whistled his stupid tune, attempting to frighten me. That knowledge had finally loosened the panic that had sealed my tongue and allowed me to respond, "You don't know me, but I can promise you'll never see me beg."

His laugh had been a dark one, scathing and harsh. Then, he'd narrowed his eyes and said, "Maybe, or maybe not. Either way, I'll get something more out of you yet."

He'd tapped his fingers on the counter and then sauntered out the door, leaving a trail of foreboding tripping along my veins.

And instead of running for home, instead of going to the place that had been safe for me for six years, I'd run here…to Lincoln. I'd seen his Range Rover parked outside the gallery when Mom had driven me to the café, and I'd reacted on instinct once Poco had left. My feet had led me straight to the gallery's door, looking for the comfort I'd felt every time Lincoln had been at my side since he'd rescued me in the cemetery.

But those notions of safety and comfort were as ridiculous as the jealousy that spiked through me the moment I stepped up to the gallery door and saw Lincoln hugging a woman. He had that wide grin on his face I'd stupidly thought he'd only sent in my direction. The one I'd thought I'd been responsible for bringing to his face.

But I had no right to the jealousy. No claim on him. The opposite was true. I needed to let him slide from my life entirely. I shouldn't have even been standing at his door.

I hesitated there for a moment too long, wavering between proceeding and retreating, while gripping the pink bakery box with the treats I'd promised him just a hair too tight. I should have left them at the café where I'd told him they'd be. I should have stuck to the decision I'd made not to see him again after our enchanting dance in the street had dissolved into a scare with the car zooming by us.

When Lincoln looked over at the door and saw me standing there, the smile on his face grew impossibly wider. It turned from something stunning into something out of this world. Magic and beauty twined. And I realized he hadn't given her my smile after all, hadn't even come close to giving it to her, because the one beaming from his face at that moment was the one I'd claimed.

His gaze shifted, taking me in, and I automatically felt that connection again, that pull, that zing of attraction and want and hope that traveled through me each time I was in his presence. I shouldn't have come, not because of my idiotic jealousy or because he'd been hugging a woman after flirting and dancing with me, but because I couldn't have him for all the reasons I'd already told myself.

Panic welled. A different kind than Poco had brought. This alarm was because I didn't trust myself anymore to give him up in order to protect my family.

"Just dropping off some desserts so you won't harass me anymore about not getting any." My words sounded stilted and tight, just like my body felt.

Lincoln took a step toward me, but I knew if he closed the distance completely—worse, if he touched me—I wouldn't walk away. I'd stay just to see if I could get another tantalizing dance. If I could get a hug. A kiss. Anything. Something. Simply more.

So, before he reached me, I set the box on the windowsill and backed out of the gallery. "I'll just get out of your hair. I hope you like them."

I spun around, heading down the sidewalk at a frantic pace.

"Willow, wait!" Lincoln called from behind me.

But I didn't. I couldn't. If I did, who knew what might happen.

Mom was finally happy again. I was happy again. I couldn't ruin that.

I'd thought it had been Poco who'd ruined the joy of our morning, but I could ruin it even more.

I was already near the corner of our street before the memory of the look Poco had given me made my feet slow to a more reasonable pace. I made myself take a deep breath in and out and look around. I couldn't be running headfirst anywhere right now. I had to keep my wits about me, especially with Poco's half-assed threats hanging over me.

I'd made it to our street when the sound of a meaty engine made my pulse leap, and with a hand jumping to my cat-eared key chain, I turned to see Lincoln's Range Rover whip toward me. My feet stalled as he pulled up to the curb. He swung the door open, stepped out, and thundered, "You're by yourself. You said you wouldn't be alone today!"

The accusation wound through the air, but it was full of a concern that had my insides fluttering for all those same wrong reasons. "I told you Mom was driving me to the café, and she did."

"She's not here now," he growled.

I blew out a frustrated breath—at myself and at him. "It's the middle of the day. I'm walking a couple of blocks. I'm fine. Go back to the gallery and whatever you were doing there."

He stared at me for a moment, brows burrowing together. "Whatever I was doing there. Wait. Were you jealous?"

I had been. For a brief moment. But it wasn't why I'd left. "No."

He closed the distance between us, hand going to my chin and forcing me to meet his gaze.

"Little liar." The tone was soft, sensual, daring me to deny it again. The simple touch of his fingers had those flames licking through me again. Heat pooling deep in my belly.

I wanted to kiss him. Yearned for it with every nerve ending in my body in a way I'd never yearned to kiss anyone. Not like this. Not with an overpowering need that had me forgetting everything else. Had me forgetting Mom, and her safety, and the promises I'd made in the dead of night that she'd only be happy from now on.

"Try again." His voice was all sexy command, the syllables sliding over me like a soft caress.

I couldn't talk. Not when his touch was lighting me up like sparklers that had sat on a shelf too long and were now in danger of exploding.

When I didn't say anything, he filled the void, a tiredness entering his voice that instantly made me want to fix it. "I'm used to the media making assumptions about me, Sweetness. But my friends, the people I care about…they know to ask before they assume."

My hand went to his wrist, intending to push him away, but the smooth caress of his thumb along my jaw had me stilling. Aching. Wanting him and all the beauty that could come with it.

I closed my eyes as pain ratcheted through me.

I couldn't have it.

None of it.

The banging of my heart was so strong, so loud, I wondered if he could hear it…feel it. His gentle caress continued for several long swipes, and then he was cupping my face with both hands. Tender strokes of skin against skin. I'd never known it could feel like this when two people touched. Like they were slowly blending together, fusing like a flambé melting sugar into something new. Something smoky and rich and vibrant.

That thought brought reality crashing in.

I really was ridiculous if I was equating his touch to flambé.

I stepped back, and I thought I saw disappointment course over his face before it disappeared. Or maybe it was me who was disappointed. In myself. In him for letting me go.

I spun around, heading for our gate, full of conflicting emotions as Lincoln followed me.

Every single one of those tantalizing and confusing feelings disappeared when I reached our front step. Shock and fear took its place as I stared at the piece of butcher paper taped to our door. Dark-red paint dripped down from the words scrawled over it.

You don't deserve a fairy-tale ending.

Just as my knees buckled, warm arms surrounded me, stopping me from hitting the ground. Every emotion from the last few days collided together, the roller coaster of desire and regret and panic and terror finally allowing the tears I'd refused for so long to surface.

Was this Poco? His little threat from this morning delivered with more force?

Or had the Viceroys finally found me?

We were supposed to be safe! God. Mom! I had to call Mom.

We'd have to call Deputy Marshal James.

Her date with Hector would be a thing of the past.

A sob ripped out of me.

I didn't want us to lose everything we'd built, but even more, I didn't want evil to find me again. I knew what it did. I'd seen it firsthand.

Without thought, I turned into the warmth and comfort of Lincoln's embrace. I pressed my face into his chest. The rich anise and clove scent of him and the soft cotton of his sweater was the balm my soul needed. He squeezed me to him, chin resting on the top of my head, murmuring words I couldn't hear because of the blood pounding in my ears.

I wasn't sure how long we stood like that, with him soothing and me trying hard not to throw up. But finally, the sounds of the birds and the buzz of the bees filtered in past the blinding alarm.

And with the fading fear came anger. I was so tired of suffering because of other people's messed-up souls and whatever darkness drove them. Tired of being forced to hide. Tired of not being able to have who I wanted and do what I desired without wondering if it would let some asshole win.

I jerked out of Lincoln's embrace and ripped the paper from the door. I stuffed my key in the lock, twisted it open, and slammed my way inside.

Lincoln caught my arm. "You shouldn't have touched it. There could be prints. And you need someone to clear your house before you go in farther."

The alarm beeped incessantly. I flung off his arm, stalked over to the box, and jammed in my code.

I brushed at the tears that had defied my attempt to stem them. "No one is here."

I crumpled the paper and tossed it on a side table. Lincoln shut the door behind us as I threw my bag on the couch.

"Call the police, Willow."

Not the police. The Marshals. I knew I needed to, but every part of me was still revolting at the idea. Those stupid, silent tears leaked from my eyes once more, chasing each other down my face and dripping off my chin. I sank onto the couch while Lincoln watched. His silence was a wall of indecision, frustration, and sadness that I could practically feel touching me.

Finally, he moved to sit next to me, pulling me up against him. I let him, easing myself into the warmth of him and tilting my head onto his shoulder. I'd known the man mere days, and yet he felt like…safety. Like home.

Until I remembered who he was.

Until I remembered the ugliness peeking at the shadows of our life wasn't something that should darken the door of the president's son.

Until I remembered that one photograph with him could lead the Viceroys to us.

Is that what had happened? Had someone taken a picture while we'd danced on the street? The person in the car? Some college student who'd seen us together at the café?

And still, I didn't move away from him. I let his warmth and kindness hold me up for a few more seconds.

"Tell me what's going on. Believe it or not, I really do know people who can help." He said it in a self-deprecating way that broke through my anger and fear enough to make my lips quiver upward momentarily.

God, I wished it was that simple.

I pushed away from him, hoping the space would help me remember all the reasons telling him the truth was a bad idea.

"Just tell me."

It was the raw plea in his voice that did me in.

"We're not supposed to tell anyone. Not anyone. Not even boyfriends or future husbands or kids. Because if any of those relationships go sour, they could ‘out' us in spite. But I don't know that it matters now. Whether this was Poco or if they've found us, the Marshals will still want us to move. We'll have to start over again."

The words burst from me fast and furious before trailing away at the end. I watched as his eyes widened in shock. Then, he said, "You're in witness protection?"

I nodded. "If we move, I won't be able to bake professionally, as it would tie me to who I am now. Mom will lose the second career she's worked hard to build. She just agreed to a date with Hector after years of being on her own…"

My voice cracked, and Lincoln reached for my arm, pulling me into him once more.

"That's why you wouldn't tell the police about Poco. You were afraid the Marshals would catch wind and want to relocate you."

"If it was just Poco being overly aggressive, I could handle it, but if it's…"

Lincoln rubbed my back, a soothing gesture.

I took in a deep breath and said, "Poco came into the coffee shop this morning. He thought…" It was embarrassment that had my words fading away this time. Saying out loud what Poco thought made it seem like I thought it too.

"He thought what?"

"He thought I'd lied about not wanting to date anyone. He was angry because he thought you and I were together, and he said…he said he'd make me beg…and that he'd get something else out of me."

Goosebumps broke out simply remembering his words and the look that had accompanied them. Lincoln's eyes darkened, fury radiating from him. He shoved up from the couch to pace in front of me. His warmth slowly bled away, leaving me trembling from head to toe. Not quite as bad as I had been that awful night in Chicago. My entire body had hurt from shaking that night. This time, when those dark memories threatened to overtake me, it was almost impossible to keep them at bay.

"Let's check both our security systems. We might catch Poco at work. If it's him, I have a few friends who can stop him from coming at you again without telling the Marshals."

"Isn't that, like…misuse of federal resources or something?" I said, giving him a watery smile.

"First, you're a citizen needing protection, so I don't believe so, but I wasn't talking about the government. I have friends who can hook us up with private security." He stopped his furious pacing in front of me. "You have the alarm app on your phone?"

I nodded, digging through my bag until I found it buried at the bottom. Lincoln squatted in front of me, watching as I found and opened the app and ran backward through the morning. Only minutes after Mom and I had pulled out of the driveway, a person in a ski mask showed up. Flat chested, muscled arms, a square body. Every inch of him was covered in black from the mask on his head to the boots on his feet. Even his gloves were black. As if aware of the cameras, he kept his face turned down and away.

It could have been anyone at that door.

It could have been Poco, as he'd been wearing black this morning, and the person at the door was shorter than Lincoln, but nothing on the video really revealed who the person was. Neither the police nor the Marshals would be able to do much with this.

I had to call Mom. I had to make sure she hadn't been followed. I had to make sure she was safe. And she needed to hear this from me before she saw it on the app. She'd leave the decathlon, and that made me sad for her and the kids who'd worked so hard for an entire school year, earning their spot at the state competition. She'd have to wait for another adult to get there, but she would leave. If push came to shove, she might even leave them alone in order to get to me.

But what if this was really just Poco? He'd just given me those weird, vague threats. It seemed much more likely to be him than the Viceroys. As the first wild edge of panic left and reason started to take over, I knew it couldn't be the Viceroys. It couldn't. The Marshals would know if Aaron Vitale had left Chicago. They'd know if he'd sent any of his men after me. Wouldn't they?

I'd just call Deputy Marshal James to check. I'd call Mom to make sure she was okay and that she hadn't been followed. Once they confirmed what I already knew, I could decide what to do about Poco trying to frighten me.

I hesitated for two seconds, saved the video to my phone, and then deleted it from the security app. I wasn't stupid enough to erase it without backing it up. I knew we might need it, but this way I could tell Mom in my own way and on my own time table.

"I don't think you should stay here. Let's go across the street and have a look at my cameras. Then, we can decide who to call," Lincoln suggested.

I met his concerned gaze with a much calmer one. "What's the point of looking at your cameras? No one is going to be able to tell who this is. And since they wore gloves, there isn't going to be any prints either."

"First, whoever this is may not realize I had cameras directed at your house, and they could have taken the ski mask off as soon as they left your yard so as not to draw attention to themselves on the street. Second, they may have worn gloves while sticking the note to your door, but they may not have worn them while writing it. So there may be prints. And if there isn't, just the paper and ink might be able to tell us something."

He waited for me at the door, and my old fear about leaving the house hit me in the stomach. It had taken me weeks before I'd been able to leave the hotel we'd been moved to while the Marshals disbanded our lives in Chicago. Once I'd gotten to Cherry Bay, staying at the cottage while I'd finished high school online hadn't been a problem. Leaving had been. Mom had encouraged me step by step, first with work on the garden and then with shopping for ingredients to make some of the recipes from the food shows and videos I'd been watching. Short trips blended into longer trips until I'd been able to enroll in classes at Bonnin and leave for hours at a time.

Lincoln held out his hand. "I've got you."

The statement was sure and strong, just like him. But still, doubts plagued me. Could he really keep me safe? Could anyone? Didn't I know personally just how easy it was to break into a house? A single gunshot could dismantle a lock. A second gunshot could disable you before you had time to move. Would that happen again? To me? To Lincoln?

My throat seemed to close.

"Willow. I promise. No one is going to hurt you while we cross the street, and I'm not leaving you here alone."

It was the absolute resolve in his tone as much as the words themselves that allowed me to breathe again. That had me reaching out a trembling hand to take his. His grip was firm. Sure. Warm. His eyes were full of compassion. As we went by, I grabbed my keys from where they'd landed next to the balled-up paper on the side table. I shuddered just looking at it, but Lincoln picked it up with two fingers.

I armed the system and locked the door all while Lincoln held my hand. His thumb rubbed along my skin. Reassuring and also terrifying in its own way. That soul-stealing attraction humming even now with evil tapping on my shoulder once again.

Across the street and through his door, he repeated the process in reverse, disarming his system in a grand entryway full of shimmering, incandescent surfaces. I barely had time to take it in before he led me into a bright office done in beautiful shades of blue and white and silver. He flicked a light switch, and an antique chandelier sparkled to life, leaving patches of rainbow confetti along the surface.

As Lincoln left me and walked over to his desk, the cold pushed at me. It let in the darkness and memories that tried to pull me into the shadows.

I concentrated on the room instead. The walls were lined with antique white shelves, and while all of them had books and knickknacks on them, it wasn't crowded, leaving room for new additions. The office was calm and soothing just like Lincoln himself. It fit him. When I'd seen the bright-yellow kitchen, I'd wondered if the rest of the house would be as forcibly cheerful as that singular room, pushing at the shadows Lincoln had clinging to him, but I didn't see that forced brightness here. Only serenity.

Lincoln opened his laptop, clicked through some screens, and then shook his head, face grim with frustration. "He must have hopped a wall before he got to your gate, because there's nothing here."

Dread filled my stomach.

If we'd had video proof it was Poco, it would have been so much simpler. Even though I still believed it had to be him, I'd make the calls I needed to make. Once I confirmed with the Marshals that the Viceroys couldn't be here, and once I'd confirmed with Mom that she was okay, I'd tell her about the note and our suspicions about Poco. I'd reassure her I was okay and tell her I was with our neighbor.

Maybe just that would ease her concerns. She'd be happy I was with someone, wouldn't she? She'd told me she wanted me to have someone in my life, just like I wanted her to have Hector. She'd be thrilled as long as she didn't know who Lincoln really was. How just his name could shred our safety even more. But maybe if I could keep her at the decathlon and I had time to figure this out before she came home, I wouldn't have to rip her life away all over again.