Page 4 of Your Worst Fear
Why was that so—No, Grace. He could send you to prison with the DNA on that towel. He isnothot.
When he made no move to toss it in the trash, I decided to take matters into my own hands.
I walked around the island, grabbing it in a fist. My Doc Marten slammed on the lever of the trash, the lid hitting the wall with a smack. I threw it in, then let the top shut.
With a huff, I left the room.
Fuck him for getting under my skin. I knew damn well he could reach into that trash and ruin my life, but if McKenna’s words were anything to go off, Henley had secrets of his own. He wouldn’t risk it.
Yet when I sat at that table and dined with the rest of them, I couldn’t bring myself to meet his eyes as they burned into me every now and then. For some reason, it felt like if I did, he’d uncover every piece of me I wanted to keep hidden.
“Someone is finally taking the management position at the diner,” Brynne spoke up, interrupting the growing irritation building inside me. The annoyance wasn’t aimed at her—it was for Henley.
McKenna’s attention moved to her friend. Austin’s chair was shoved up against hers, his arm around her waist. “And thankfully they’re renaming the joint,” McKenna added.
“To what?” Booker asked, pausing his eating to narrow all his focus on his girlfriend. The man always seemed so broody, his big stature and facial hair making him look even more of a grump, but he was always sweet to her.
“Whiskey Diner,” McKenna answered, a scrunch to her nose.
Austin snorted. “They don’t even sell whiskey there.”
McKenna shrugged, popping a green bean in her mouth. “It’s a part of the town name, smartass.”
My brows rose slightly, but Austin offered no reaction to the name. If anything, it appeared he liked her sass. I guess he had to, knowing McKenna wouldn’t drop the attitude for anyone. I loved her all the more for it.
Booker ignored them. “Who’s taking the position? Dan?” Dan was the cook at that place, but that was as much as I knew about him.
Brynne shook her head, swallowing before speaking. “He decided he’s not fit for running an entire business. Cooking is his real passion.” She took a sip of the cocktail Henley had brought her. “Some guy named Benny Pates.”
“Plates?”Austin asked for clarification.
“Pates.”Brynne enunciated it clearly. “But it would be more fitting if it were Plates.”
That earned a smile from McKenna.
Brynne went on, “I guess he has some big business plan for the place. He doesn’t seem to understand how small towns work, though. We’re not going to have patrons flocking in masses, but he seems to think he can do anything.”
Austin muttered something unintelligible under his breath.
A buzzing in my pocket pulled my attention from the conversation. I tugged out the burner phone, cursing myself for not remembering to leave it behind. I was getting too lazy lately, forgetting the systems I’d put in place to keep myself as protected from discovery as possible.
Keeping the phone hidden under the table, with my posture straight and my eyes downcast, I clicked on the text I’d received seconds ago.
There were no words, only a photo. I clicked it to enlarge the picture, my thumb freezing as I did.
I recognized the man, even if half his face was hidden as he turned his head. Henley was getting in his truck, glancing over his shoulder as he pulled on the handle.
I had what one might call a moment of weakness—my heart seemed to skip a beat, blood draining from my face, my hands growing clammy. No other target had made mefeel this way. They were all justified for one reason or another because they were all seemingly bad people.
A hundred different theories flew through my head as I shut the phone off and slid it back in my pocket. Slowly, I raised my head, unable to help the fact that my focus moved directly to Henley, who sat across from me at the table.
He was done eating, quietly observing the group as they droned on about something I didn’t have the capacity to care about right now.
His gaze moved from the four of them, sliding over to me as if he’d felt my eyes on him.
I forced myself to suck in a breath, not having realized I was holding it. I stared at him, unable to peel my focus off the man I was now going to be forced to kill.
But this was a good thing, right? Because he’d seen the blood on my neck and could very well have grabbed the towel out of that trash to use as blackmail—for some reason I didn’t have the energy to conjure up. He could ruin my life.
