Chapter 02

No… no… no… God, that fucking sucks… no… no… eh, maybe.”

What the ever-loving fuck?

Roan’s voice swam unsteadily in my ears as he continued to do… something. I didn’t have a clue. I struggled to open my eyes. The blast of fluorescent light hurt, and I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut.

“Hey, took you long enough,” Roan commented.

“Light,” I rasped, barely recognizing my own voice. The dryness in my mouth was horrific, and my tongue felt thick as fuck. “Hurt.”

“Yes, caveman, I’ll turn off the fucking light.” His boots scuffed the floor loudly, the noise making my ears ache. My wolf growled while I cringed. “Calm your furry ass. I’ve got it, I’ve got it.”

The lights dimmed enough for me to blink more comfortably. It took longer for my vision to clear than I wanted. I was in a hospital room with Roan. He sat with his boots up on the bed and a remote in hand. Dirty blond hair stuck out from under a backward baseball hat with loose strands falling into his vivid blue eyes. From the expression on his face, he was more bored than anything as he chewed on a plastic spoon with four jello containers balancing in his lap.

“Where am I?” I asked.

“Hospital,” Roan said. “You got yourself stabbed.”

Stabbed? That’d explain the pain in my stomach. But how? I frowned as I tried to remember. I couldn’t recall a fucking thing, only small flashes. Woods. Shadows. Pain. So much fucking pain.

“By who?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. He was too damn casual about the whole ordeal. It irritated the fuck out of me.

“How did they find me? Who found me?” I demanded.

“Someone dropped you off in the hospital waiting room and left,” he explained. “Non-fatal stab wound to the stomach. It means—”

“I know what it means. How long?”

“A day. I got the call and had to fly across the country for your non-fatal stab wound,” he said. “The cable is shit, and the fucking jello all tastes the same. You’d think they’d have better fucking jello here.”

“It’s a hospital, Roan,” I replied. “And the jello isn’t for you. It’s for patients. Like me.”

“Call it your non-emergency emergency contact fee,” he shot back. “For the record, I hauled ass to get here. They wouldn’t tell me everything over the phone. Just that you got stabbed. I thought you were dead.”

“I’m sorry you had emotional distress.” I rolled my eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I get stabbed.”

“Good.” He grinned. Asshole.

“You didn’t call Mom did you?”

“Fuck no!” Roan exclaimed. “Shit, your mom would burn down the country until they found who stabbed her sweet little itty bitty baby boy.”

“Fucker,” I interjected. He wasn’t quite wrong though.

“What do you remember?” He dropped the remote on the side table and crossed his arms, giving me his attention.

“I don’t…” Lavender and lemon. The strong smell weaved through my mind as I attempted to remember something. I was grasping at straws. I whispered, “Lavender and lemon. And woods. I remember lavender and lemon and woods.”

“So you got stabbed in a Yankee Candle?” Roan raised a brow, finding way too much amusement in the situation. I wanted to wipe that smirk off his fucking face. “Did you lose a fight to a housewife? Get your ass kicked by a Karen? Was she old? Oh my God. Did you get your ass kicked by a grandma?”

“I’m going to kill you,” I grumbled. “Dead. You’re dead.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “I could beat your ass with a candle right now.”

I laughed because what the fuck else was I supposed to do. The moron. Except it fucking ached. Non-fatal, sure. Non-painful would’ve been fucking nice. Granted, we wolves healed faster, meaning it wouldn’t be an issue for long.

“Can I check out?” I asked. He shrugged.

“I mean, you probably should,” Roan said. “At some point, someone’s going to check on your furry ass and realize you’re healing way faster than usual.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” I muttered. I threw off the blanket and immediately regretted it as Roan laughed. Jesus fuck. Why the fuck did they put grippy socks on me? It wasn’t necessary. I scowled at Roan while he pushed my leg with his boot. “Dick.”

“Grandpa.” He pulled out his phone with a wicked grin. I had no hope of stopping him as he took a picture. “Putting that one up in the bar. I’m going to call it Grandpa Killian. It’s a hell of a look on you.”

“Remind me again why you’re my emergency contact.”

“Because you love me.”

I snorted. Fat chance of that. Okay, I owed Roan my life, and he was one of my best friends. The man had been there for me at some of my lowest points and helped me back on my feet when I thought I’d never stand again. I just didn’t need to feed his fucking ego.

Moving slowly, I climbed out of bed. It knocked the wind out of me, but it could’ve been worse. Hell, I’d been through worse. A notion my mom never needed to know about. My job was dangerous. There was no hiding that from her. I’d gone from small-town cop to a bounty hunter. One quick internet search would’ve told her—and Mom loved googling the shit she didn’t know. I didn’t need her to know just how dangerous my job was. She’d lock me in a room and throw away the fucking key if she knew.

Not giving a fuck about who the hell might walk in, I fumbled through untying my hospital gown—who the fuck tied this thing? No knot should’ve been this fucking difficult to get undone. Shit. I didn’t need this crap.

“Where’s my knife?”

“It’s a hospital. You can’t bring weapons into the hospital.”

“Where’s your knife?” I glared at him, knowing full well the fucker had a pocket knife on him. “Don’t fuck with me, Roan. I know you’ve got one. You’ve always got one.”

“Don’t tell the hot nurse I’m sneaking you weapons,” he said with that stupid grin of his and pulled out his pocket knife.

“I don’t even know who the hot nurse is.” I cut myself out of the gown because fuck that shit. As a wolf, I didn’t have a shred of modesty. It came with the territory. Shifting in clothes wasn’t an option. Well, it wasn’t if I didn’t want to buy new clothes every time I shifted. Which I didn’t. I’d lived with Roan on and off for three years, and I’d grown up with him. There weren’t a hell of a lot of secrets between the two of us—including having spent quite a bit of time around each other naked.

Naked? Yes.

Naked in Grandpa grippy socks? No.

Fuck, I hadn’t thought this through.Roan fucking lost it, his head tipping back while he laughed his ass off at me. I scowled as he grabbed his phone.

“You take a picture of my dick and I’ll fucking fight you, Ironwood,” I growled, the sound vibrating in my chest. “Naked. Right here. Just fucking try me.”

I’d do it too. He knew.

“Buzz kill,” he retorted, feigning his upset over the whole thing. I knew him too well for that shit.

My clothes and boots were in a bag on the chair. What was left of them anyway, which consisted of my jeans, belt, boxers, socks, and boots. Made sense since I was stabbed and all.

“Do you have a shirt I can have?” I glanced at him as I pulled on clothes.

“Not one that’ll show off your nipples.”

“Fucker.”

“Yeah, but it’s in the car,” Roan said. “I’ll tell the nurse you’re awake. I’m pretty sure she’ll fight you for wanting to leave after being stabbed and all. She’s feisty.”

“They can’t hold me.” I shrugged and instantly regretted it. Pain laced like lightning through my torso. Okay, maybe recovery would take longer than I wanted to admit. Which was fucking weird, considering my wolf healing factor. “I’m standing, I’m in one piece, I have to talk to the cops I’m sure, but they can’t keep me here against my will. I’m not crazy—”

“Debatable.”

“I don’t have a legal guardian—”

“What a nightmare job that would be.”

“Are you done?” I asked. Nothing in my tone could hide the smile tugging the corner of my mouth. This was just how Roan and I were. Banter and bullshit. It worked for us.

“Not a chance in hell.” He groaned dramatically as he got to his feet. “I’ll be back. Need anything else?”

“Food,” I said. “But good food, not fucking hospital food, and someone ate all my fucking jello.”

“It’s my fee, Byrne, it’s my fee.” Without another word, Roan slipped out of the room. It gave me the time I needed to get oriented and look myself over.

Whatever the hell had happened, someone kicked my fucking ass. It wasn’t even the stab wound—though, that’d leave a hell of a scar as I peeled back the bandages. A shallow cut trailed down the length of my chest and stomach, deep enough to hurt but not enough to leave a lasting mark. I had bruises and swelling from taking a few too many hits.

Jesus fuck… what the hell had happened to me?

“You sure you should be up and moving?” A voice at the door drew my attention away. An officer in uniform waited patiently. At least I had on pants for this.

“Officer.” I nodded and attempted to restick the bandage on. It didn’t stay. I lied, “I’m fine. Isn’t the first time someone’s kicked my ass and won’t be the last.”

That part wasn’t a lie. I had the scars to prove it. I also had a metal plate in my arm and the X-rays on my phone to show it off. Getting hit with a metal pole? Not nearly as fun as it sounded.

The rest, though, was a lie. I was tired, hungry as fuck, and hurting head-to-toe. I wanted out of the hospital and back in my own bed for a long fucking nap.

“Officer Ryat. You’re a bounty hunter, right?” he asked, and I nodded. “That can be nasty work.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. “It can also be easy as fuck when dealing with idiots who don’t know a damn thing about running and don’t know how to fight back. Sometimes, I just have to be the bigger bully, you know?”

“Yeah.” Officer Ryat chuckled. “And whoever did this to you? Were they the bigger bully?”

“Apparently.” I sat on the edge of the bed, my legs welcoming the reprieve. “I’m assuming the hospital security cameras got nothing? Otherwise, you’d know something, right?”

“Cameras had a malfunction right about that time,” he said. “It’s the damnedest thing. Hospital security, traffic cameras, and even the ATM across the street all malfunctioned at the exact time you were left in the lobby.”

I frowned. What the fuck?

“I think I took a few too many hits to the fucking head.” I sighed and ran a hand through my dark hair. Gross. I needed a long fucking shower with some damn good soap. “I don’t remember anything.”

“Do you know what you’re doing in Boston?”

Boston? A headache blossomed behind my eyes. Jesus fucking Christ. What else couldn’t I remember? That was the million-dollar question.

“Work,” I told him, only eighty percent sure of my answer.

“Who were you hunting down?” Officer Ryat asked.

Lavender and lemon…

No, that wasn’t a fucking answer.

“I can’t remember,” I whispered. “The file would be in my car. I keep papers. I don’t like putting shit on my phone.”

I didn’t even bring it with me when I could avoid it. There was too much personal information on it that I worried about someone getting access to. Call me paranoid, but I refused to change my stance on that. Instead, I kept a cheap burner phone in case of emergencies.

“We have your car in impound,” he replied. “Someone found its doors jimmied opened, and it’d been ransacked.”

“Fucking hell.” This just kept getting better and better. Whoever did this to me really went all out to be a fucking asshole. I’d have to give Joey a call and figure out who the hell I’d been hunting down. Granted, I didn’t say that to Officer Ryat. When I figured out who the hell this was, payback was happening. And I’d make it fucking brutal. I glanced up as I realized Officer Ryat was still staring at me. I shrugged. “I don’t have anything else to give you. I don’t remember shit.”

“You should get looked at for a concussion,” he said.

“Nah, he’s just always that fucking ditzy,” Roan commented. He slipped around Officer Ryat and tossed a black shirt at me. I groaned as I pulled it on.

“Got it.” Officer Ryat nodded. He took out a business card and handed it to me. “Look, I’ll write up a report because I have to, but at this point, unless you remember something, I wouldn’t expect to figure out who did this. If you do remember anything, just give me a call.”

“Will do.” I wouldn’t. This shit I’d handle on my own. As he stepped into the hall and Roan closed the door, I grabbed my wallet. I had every intention of tossing the officer’s card inside just in case. You never knew when you’d need a good connection in a different city. I paused, though, and stared at the contents of my wallet. “Huh. That’s not where I keep you.”

My driver’s license had been carelessly tossed inside. Which was odd. I was meticulous about where I kept my shit. My license was always placed inside the first slot. The last thing I needed was for it to fall out. The way it just sat free in the centerfold was unlike me.

“What?” Roan asked while he flopped down in his chair again. “You lost your mind again?”

“Maybe?” I answered honestly. “My license isn’t where I always put it.”

“Is everything else there?” The serious tone in his voice wasn’t lost on me. After all the shit I’d gone through with whoever had stabbed me, was it really a long shot to think they’d gone through my wallet? I took my time going through each section. My frown deepened with every passing minute. “What’d they take?”

“My brothers’ business cards,” I said. Why the fuck would someone take Declan, Sam, and Nolan’s business cards? I kept rifling through my shit.

“There’s some fucking weird ass people out there, man,” he muttered, but I barely heard him as I hit the last slot in my wallet. The one fucking slot I hadn’t touched in two years. I didn’t want to look, but I had to. I had to know.

Two pictures sat in the back slot—two pictures I’d actively avoided because any time I saw them, it ripped out my heart all over again. The first was one of our wedding photos taken at Waverly Farms. Just a quiet moment of me and her surrounded by pumpkins at sunset. I loved that picture. I could still feel her in my arms, the heavy blanket wrapped tight around us as I sang to her. I hadn’t even known the photographer was there, to be honest.

The second was another picture of her, bright-eyed with a big smile as she sat on our porch swing. Despite the pouring rain outside our overhang and the cold weather, she was fucking glowing. She was sunshine and all good things wrapped up into one perfect woman.

I ran my thumb over the old thing, feeling the gut punch just as hard as I did every other time I looked at them. It’d been three years since I’d seen her in person. Three years and it still fucking hurt like it was yesterday. I was barely put together—a mess of proverbial duct tape, desperate prayers, and daily mantras telling myself I could get through the fucking day. Most days I got through just fine, but some days the hurt came right back with a fucking vengeance.

And I was gearing up to make it hurt all over again. I was going home. Back to Cedar Harbor. What the hell had I been thinking? Was I ready to face Genevieve again? I wanted to say I was, but the truth was I was a weak man where she was concerned. I’d let her carve my damn heart out with a spoon all over again if that was what she wanted.

I wasn’t sure how the hell I was going to survive her.