The Truest Thing (Hart's Boardwalk 4)

I think she was trying to ask if I was a virgin.

I avoided those hinted questions because it would mean telling them about Tripp, and I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to talk about him.

While Bailey seemed ecstatic about the idea of “Jack finding his redemption with Emery,” like we were living in a romance novel or something, my other friends were less enthused. Jess and Dahlia were both concerned about my connection to Jack and urged me to continue to be cautious with him. Even Ivy, who wasn’t as close to me, seemed a little perturbed and agreed. Bailey was annoyed with them all, especially when I promised them I was done with Jack Devlin for good.

I said the words—and I wanted to mean them—but they still hurt. It still ached deep inside me to think of never kissing Jack again. Even if it was best for me. I needed to remind myself continually how much it hurt to see him with those other women.

And I worried about him. I worried about his family’s tragic tale being splashed across newspapers, becoming fodder for this town’s gossips, of which there were many. Poor Rebecca. I didn’t know her. However, I didn’t want her to feel alone during all this. Perhaps I should talk to the girls about offering her support.

Or was that too intrusive?

Perhaps Jack’s sister just wished to be left alone.

She might be like Cat, Cooper’s sister. Jessica, apparently, had tried to invite Cat to many of our gatherings but as a single working mom, she was busy and had little free time. Jessica also suspected Cat was kind of a loner and liked it that way.

I sighed as I let myself into my house. This was why I closed shop early. My mind was so unfocused, jumping from one thought to the next.

That’s also why I didn’t sense his presence until I’d already stepped inside and closed the door behind me.

My heart lurched into my throat at the sight of the tall, distinguished, handsome older man standing on the edge of my kitchen, near my dining table.

Ian Devlin.

He had a gun pointed at me.

The first thought that crossed my mind was how I could reach inside the top drawer of the side table to my left. Inside that drawer was my loaded Glock.

My second thought was that Jack had been right all along. Ian was spying on Jack. Otherwise he wouldn’t be here, in my house, threatening me.

> In retaliation for what his son had done.

Because that’s what this was.

“You know why I’m here.” Devlin glared icily at me.

“I-I know why. Although”—I let out a shaky exhale as I tentatively moved to the sideboard, pretending I merely wanted to put my purse down on it—“I don’t know how you think this will help matters.” I turned my back to him and sweat rolled down my spine beneath my dress.

“She speaks.” Devlin snorted bitterly. “But she’s stupid enough to put her back to a loaded gun.”

Anger suffused me as I concealed my movements with my body and slowly opened the drawer. I winced as it made a slight grating sound.

“What are you doing? Turn around where I can see you.”

God, he was such a cliché.

As quickly as I could, I reached in, grabbed the gun, and whirled around, clasping it expertly before me, pointing it at Devlin’s chest.

He let out a chuckle of surprise but kept his gun trained on me. Lazily. With one hand raised. “You even hold that thing like you know how to shoot it.”

I did know how to shoot it.

I knew how to shoot extremely well.

“A lady has to know how to protect herself,” I replied. “Now, Mr. Devlin, I think it might be best if you leave before you make things any worse for yourself.”

Fury flared in his eyes. “You don’t get it. The feds took over the case against me. They froze all my assets. My attorney abandoned me. I’m fucked.” He waved the gun dangerously, but I refused to flinch. I was ready to shoot if I needed to, even though the thought made me sick to my stomach.

“Mr. Devlin, stop waving the gun around or I will shoot you.”