with him, hand-in-hand, not only felt good, but it felt natural. Savannah might not have felt like home to me, but being with Bradyn was, more and more, starting to feel like home as much as New York did.
Less than a half hour later, we saw a cop car turning into the driveway a few yards ahead of us, and all that peace we’d gotten in New York vanished. The car didn’t have its lights on, but there wasn’t really a good reason for them to be at the ranch. Every muscle went stiff, and Bradyn grabbed my hand.
“They’re not rushin’, and there’s no ambulance.”
I wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure himself or me.
Maybe if I’d had a better life growing up, I’d have been more optimistic, but all I could think right now was that something had happened to one or both of the Huxleys. I didn’t say anything, though. Bradyn didn’t need to deal with my shit right now. I liked Brew and Shadae, but they had been friends – almost family, really – to him.
When the driver got us closer to the main house, however, we saw Brew and Shadae standing outside, and the grip on my heart eased. They were okay. And then I saw Isaac too. I wasn’t interested in him, but I wouldn’t want him to have been hurt either, so I was glad to see him standing there too.
“They’re okay.” Bradyn’s hand tightened around mine.
“This where ya’ll want out?” the driver asked as he parked behind the cop car. “Cuz I don’t think I can go around them.”
“This is fine.” Bradyn held out a couple bills. “Here.”
“I’ll get the bags,” I said. “You go to Brew and Shadae.”
“Thank you.”
By the time I got our luggage, Bradyn was hugging Shadae and listening to whatever the Huxleys were saying. I put everything on the grass, out of the way, and went to join them. Shadae was in the middle of a sentence when I got close enough to hear them.
“…we got home, and it was like this.”
And that was when I saw the reason why the cops were here.
Go back to Africa you fucking n-
Fury flooded me. Who the fuck had done this? If the cops couldn’t figure it out, I sure as hell would. This sort of racist bullshit would’ve pissed me off no matter who the victims were. The fact that someone had done this to people like Shadae and Brew made it personal. If I had to stay in Savannah for a year to figure it out, I’d do it.
“I need you to stop right there, miss.” A uniformed officer stepped in front of me. “This is a crime scene.”
“It’s all right, officer,” Isaac called. His expression was tight, and even from where I was standing, I could see rage simmering just under his skin. “She’s a guest here.”
“Are the cabins like this too?” I asked, looking back and forth between Isaac and the cop, figuring at least one of them would answer me.
“I need to ask you a few questions,” the officer said, moving so that he was between Isaac and me. “Your name?”
“Nyx Phoenix.” I wanted to repeat my question, but I kept my attitude in check. The Huxleys didn’t deserve to suffer for me being a smartass.
He jotted down what I assumed was my name. “And you’re stayin’ here?”
“I am.” I put my hands in my pockets and wished I’d thought to wear a dress that could handle the change in weather rather than jeans. “I’m from New York.”
“The state in general or the city?”
Smart question, I’d give him that. Most people, when they heard New York assumed it was the city, even if it wasn’t specifically said.
“City.”
“How do you know Bradyn Traylor?”
It took me a moment to realize that he was asking because Bradyn and I had just arrived together and not because he was being an ass. Well, at least not all because he was being an ass. I’d wait until the conversation was done before I decided anything else about him.
“I met him when I first got to Savannah, and he recommended the ranch as somewhere for me to stay while I’m in town.”
“Where were the two of you comin’ back from just now?”
“New York.”
He raised an eyebrow. “The city again?”
“We were in Rochester first and then went to the city for a few days.”
“Why were you there?” He did a decent job of not leering at me, but it didn’t take a mind