AllFreeNovel
Share Us
There was no “kind of” about it. “I don’t think he had a type before he set the fire at your place. But after you got away, I believe he did.”
“He’s been burning me over and over? Those poor women have died in my place?” She choked back a sob. “I hate this.”
He surged off the couch. Beau could not just sit there and watch her pain. It ripped him apart. His arms curled around her, and he yanked her against him. She struggled for just a second, and he was already preparing to let her go when she suddenly locked her arms around him and held on as if she’d never let go. The same way he was holding her.
“I was scared,” Avalon confessed. “So scared in the prison. Scared when we were running through all those corridors. Scared when I was in my bedroom and that jerk in the mask was attacking me. Scared when I was a teenager.” Her head tilted back. “I am so sick of being scared.” A tear tracked down her cheek.
His hand lifted. Caught the tear. He hated it when she cried.
“Everett was the key. He knew things about our past.” Another tear slipped from her eye.
Tenderly, he wiped it away.
“He knew about the Jag. About your gang involvement. He knew so much.”
Yes. “Because he knows the killer.” The only conclusion Beau could reach. Correction—knew the killer. Past tense because Beau was sure Everett was being loaded up into a body bag about now.
Her head turned. Her lips skimmed over his hand. The briefest of caresses, before she backed away. “Tell me everything. No secrets. None. Understand? You tell me everything you’ve been holding back, or I walk.”
“You’ll be afraid.”
A broken laugh escaped her. “Didn’t I just cover that I’m already scared all the time? And I’m sick of it. Nothing you can say is going to make me fear more.” She blinked away tears. “I hate crying.”
“I know.” Soft.
“Because you know everything about me?”
“Not everything. I feel like I could be with you for a hundred years, and I’d still not know enough.”
“Do not say freaking sweet things to me right now. Talk to me about the past.”
There was certainly nothing sweet about the past. “I was in the Garden District that night because I was supposed to boost a Jag. I was inside the vehicle, ready to ride into the night, and then I smelled smoke. Heard the crackle of fire. Heard a voice calling for help.”
This time, she was the one to swipe away the tears on her cheek. She wiped them away even as she stiffened her spine.
“I went into the house to save you.”
“Why?”
“Because you wanted my help.” Simple. Because you were going to die, and I couldn’t just stand there. “I hadn’t done that before. Helped someone, that is. Mostly, I just tried to help myself.” A shrug. “My old man was in prison. Serving two murder convictions. He still is, by the way. My mom left me in a church when I was ten. Found out that she died three weeks later of a drug overdose.”
“Beau…”
His shoulders tensed. “It is what it is.”
“No. It’s not.” She surged toward him.
But he lifted his hand. “Sweetheart, you touch me again, and you’re not gonna be hearing the rest of the story right now. You’ll be getting fucked. Because you might want to offer me comfort—and believe me, I do appreciate it—but I want you. Always have. Always will. And I’m riding one insane blast of fury and adrenaline due to what happened at the prison. My control is razor thin. So, just…thanks for the sympathy. But it’s really better if you keep your distance.” Safer for you, sweetheart.
She froze in place. Was that a flash of pain in her eyes? Sonofabitch.
I’m the sonofabitch. He cleared his throat. “Where was I? Oh, right. Saving this terrified teenage girl. We were on the third floor of her house. I’d realized someone locked her in to die, and all I wanted to do was make sure that we both didn’t get burned alive. I had this crazy idea to climb down the old pipe or gutter or whatever the hell it was near her window. But it broke. And we fell. And when I woke up in the hospital, for the first time in a very long while, I wasn’t alone.”
“I was at your bedside.”
He nodded. “Every time I opened my eyes, you were there. Your parents were there. People were coming in and saying how grateful they were. How much of a hero I was.” His lips curled down. “Like the hero could admit he was only in the right place because he’d been in the middle of stealing a fancy ride. I already had a rap sheet at that time. Lots of fake IDs. Giving a false name was easy. But they still tracked me down.”
“They?”
