On My Way - Eve Langlais Page 0,74

I’d shot Jace.

“I’ve had enough of that prick! You should have let me hex him,” Trish huffed as she paced my living room. “What are we going to do about Martin?”

“Nothing. Martin is my problem. If he lives, then maybe he’ll finally get the message.”

“Wait, what?” Trish frowned and I realized my friend didn’t have the whole story.

Apparently, my daughter had neglected the most important part. Probably best, given who knew how secure a phone line really was? Anyone could be listening.

“Mom shot Dad,” Winnie stated.

“Shot him? Oh. Shit.” Trish grabbed the bottle of tequila and poured herself a shot. Downed it and poured another before sitting hard on the couch. “Are you sure you got him?”

I nodded. “I shot someone. At least once, possibly twice.”

“Meaning they might live.” She appeared pensive. “My mom used to say nothing’s meaner than a wounded animal.”

“In other words, I might have made things worse.” I slumped. “Great.”

“What should we do?” Winnie asked.

“Nothing,” my friend baldly stated.

I glanced sharply at Trish. “What do you mean nothing? I shot a man.”

“Did you? Only you and that person know that for sure. Where’s the gun?”

I pointed to my coat. “In my pocket.”

“I’ll take it with me and ditch it. No weapon, no proof.”

“I don’t know if you should take it. What if he comes back?” Winnie was the one to voice the main concern.

But I wasn’t worried.

The house would provide.

23

I didn’t want to go to bed. I also didn’t want Trish to leave, but she insisted since Marjorie was home alone. I paced until she called Winnie to say she’d made it since my purse went missing.

I think that was the most traumatizing thing of the night. The loss of all my cards, including identification. Maybe if I wandered the path back, I’d find it, but that might mean dealing with those wolves again.

What of that thing in the lake? How had I never seen it before?

The best reason of all to not leave the house? I had to guard it.

I spent a good chunk of that night spying out of various windows, convinced the arsonist would return. I didn’t keep vigil alone. At one point, Winnie and I ended up on the couch together, asleep under a blanket.

Waking up meant dealing with an epic neck crick. Joints cracked and popped. Screw this getting-old thing.

Winnie stretched and yawned. “Morning, Mommy.”

The return to my title from when she was little brought a smile. “Morning, my Winnie boo.”

“Bacon?” she asked, sliding off the couch, her body already loose-limbed. Ah to be young again when parts of me didn’t creak.

“As if that’s even a question. I’ll put on some coffee. I need a few cups.” Might as well just hook me to an IV. I had a feeling today would require copious amount of caffeine. As I sipped, I didn’t do a great job of hiding my furtive glimpses through the front cottage window.

“What are you looking for?” Winnie asked, sliding a paper towel with bacon on it toward me.

“The truth? I keep expecting to see the police.” I wished I’d kept my mouth shut, as her expression shuttered.

“You think he made it out of the woods?”

My shoulders lifted and dropped. “I don’t know.”

Which made it the hardest part of all. Had I killed someone? Was I a murderer?

Since sticking close to home and nervously twitching at everything that moved outside the window wasn’t an option, I went to work, my car somehow in the driveway when I woke up. The shop had survived the night unmarked, making me feel a selfish satisfaction that I might have solved the problem.

I spent the morning updating the website and building in shipping options for the online store. I had a few browsers.

That afternoon Kane entered the shop, alive and not covered in bandages, although he did have a slight limp and bruising along his temple. Had he been the person I’d shot? It seemed unlikely since I’d left him behind on the beach. What happened after we separated? Who was he really? Because a regular man didn’t run around the woods with a sword.

Only one of the things I’d ask.

He took a brief glance around before settling on me. “Hello, Naomi.” Nothing threatening or even seductive about the words, and yet heat rushed to my cheeks.

My hand went right to my hair. Then to tug at my shirt to make sure it covered the bulge I kept tucked in my pants. “What do you want?”

“Everything.”

My chin lifted. “I thought I told