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I nod, but I'm terrified. Trevor's here. He found me again. After everything, after feeling safe, he's back.

Kieran kisses me once, hard and fast. "I'll call you as soon as I can. Lock the door behind me."

Then he's gone, and I'm alone in the cottage wearing his t-shirt, and all the warmth and safety and pleasure from the last few hours has been replaced by cold, sharp fear.

I lock the door like he said. Check all the windows. Turn on every light even though it's still afternoon.

Then I sink onto the couch with my phone clutched in my hand and wait.

And I pray that Kieran knows what he's doing.

Chapter 6 — Kieran

I'm barely out of her driveway when my phone rings. Ethan.

"What's up?"

"Trevor's still at Ray's. Still asking where Lyla lives. Ray's stalling, but Trevor isn't taking the hint."

Every muscle in my body goes tight. "I'm ten minutes out."

"Want me to engage?"

"No, wait for me."

I push the truck faster than I should on these roads. The late afternoon sun cuts through the trees at sharp angles, throwing shadows across the asphalt.

My hands are steady on the wheel but there's a cold anger building in my chest that I haven't felt in years. Not since that checkpoint outside Kandahar. Not since I learned what happens when you miss the warning signs.

Ray's store is on Main Street, windows bright against the gathering dusk. I can see Trevor through the glass before I even park—leaning over the counter, invading Ray's space in that aggressive way men like him always do. Making themselves bigger. Taking up more room than they deserve.

"How long?" I ask Ethan as we cross the street. The air smells like wood smoke and fallen leaves.

"Almost half an hour. He's been pushing pretty hard."

The bell over the door chimes when we walk in. The store smells like coffee and newsprint, and the lemon cleaner Ray uses on the counters. Ray's relief is visible the moment he sees me. Trevor straightens, and recognition flashes across his face.

"Sheriff." His tone is pleasant but his eyes aren't. "Didn't expect to see you again."

"I told you to leave town yesterday." I keep my voice level. Professional. But I position myself between him and Ray, and he notices.

"I did leave. Just came back to visit. It's a nice town." He spreads his hands like he's reasonable. Like he's harmless. "Thinking about staying at that bed and breakfast on Maple Street. The one with the blue shutters."

He's lying. There's a bed and breakfast on Maple Street, but he hasn't been there. He's been here, hunting for information.

"Ray." I don't look away from Trevor. "What's he been asking you?"

Ray clears his throat. "Wanted to know where Lyla's staying. What kind of car she drives. If I've seen her around town. If she's been with anyone."

"And did you tell him?"

"No sir."

Trevor's jaw tightens. "I'm trying to find my girlfriend. That's not a crime."

"She's not your girlfriend. She ended that relationship two months ago."

"We had a fight. She left. That doesn't mean we're done." He takes a step toward me and I catch the cologne he's wearing—something expensive and too strong. The smell of it makes my skin crawl. "We need to talk. Work things out. That's what people do."