Wicked Sinner (Dangerous Love 2)

“Oh yeah?” she retorted sharply, her fingers clenching the bedsheet tight. “I almost married a con man who was going to drain my bank account.”

“You’re the fourth woman he’s done this to,” Asher countered. “Damon was clever and cruel and chose sweet women who didn’t deserve this.”

Remy considered this a moment, then shook her head slowly. “I don’t even get how he knew about my inheritance. I never told him.”

“I doubt we’ll ever know that answer unless Damon tells us himself.”

“God.” She released the sheet and her hands curled around her middle, all the color draining from her face. “I just feel so stupid. You know this is going to end up in the newspaper, all over town.”

That was the shit-end of living in a small town: Everyone knew everyone’s business, but Asher had already considered this and thought up a good next step. It occurred to him that this was how he could help Remy move forward. From his years spent with the FBI, he’d honed his skills of thinking outside of the box and always being one step ahead of the media and criminals. Remy needed to turn this situation on its head, and he happened to know exactly how to do that. “The way I see it,” Asher explained, “you have two ways of handling this. One, hide away in your bed and hope that everyone just forgets this and moves on. Two, take control of the narrative and give the town something to talk about. Let everyone know that you’re not a victim.”

She went still. “How exactly do I do that?”

Asher gave slow smile, hoping to send his confidence her way. “Face him. Let the town talk about that.”

“Face him?” she repeated, tilting her head to the side, obviously mulling over the idea.

“Go to the police station. Let the townsfolk see you out and about. Word will spread, you know this. Give them something to talk about.”

A twinkle lightened her eyes. “I’ve got to say, I don’t hate this idea, but I also can’t go in there unarmed.” She shoved off the blanket and grabbed a perfume bottle and sprayed herself. “It’s a homemade protective and purifying blend featuring patchouli, frankincense, and dragon’s blood, which all help to feel grounded and prepared.”

It smelled good, that much he knew. He rose from the bed, and he watched her pupils dilate a little as he ended up right in front of her, very little space between them. “You ready?”

“Ready.” She gave a firm nod, looking a little like the Remy he used to know.

“Good.” He smiled softly. “When this is all said and done, we’ll see about that wine you wanted.”

She smiled back. “Well, I’d much rather Damon’s nuts served on a platter, but hey, wine will work too.”

* * *

The walk of shame was so much better than the walk of embarrassment. Remy hadn’t quite figured out why Asher was there by her side, totally cool and calm walking down Stoney Creek’s historic Main Street, but she was glad to not have to do this alone. They left her loft and then grabbed coffee at a shop a block away from the station, and the entire way, Remy had to fight to keep her chin up. Boutique shops lined the skinny road where cars were parked, and mature trees hugged the road. Burnt orange and dark red leaves scattered the sidewalks as autumn had settled into town. She wrapped her sweater tighter, telling herself that was from the chill in the air, not from insecurity. The last thing she wanted was to allow Damon to make her feel shamed in her hometown.

“Oh, my dear, Remy.”

Remy cringed at the soft, sweet voice. “God, please, no.”

Asher chuckled and hastily turned to face Heather Longfield, their old principal from Stoney Creek’s high school. “Hello, Mrs. Longfield, how are things?” he asked gently.

“Doing just fine,” she said to Asher. Then to Remy, she gave sad, pitiful eyes. “I

was so very sorry to hear what happened. That Damon is just an awful man.” She turned back to Asher and her lip curled. “I hope you will ensure he is punished to the full extent of the law.”

“Yes, ma’am, I will,” Asher said with a firm nod.

Mrs. Longfield’s brow wrinkled as she reached out to touch Remy’s arm. “If there’s anything—”

“I’m really sorry to interrupt you,” Asher interjected softly, taking Remy’s arm and tugging her forward, “but I’m afraid we’re on our way to the station and are already late.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” Mrs. Longfield said, taking a step back. “You must have things to do.”

Remy booked it forward, never taking her gaze off the police station up ahead, wishing she could blink and get there. When they were a few feet away from Mrs. Longfield, Remy said, “Thank you for that. I don’t think I could handle her pitiful looks for another minute.”

“She always was a bit dramatic,” Asher said with a smile, finally releasing his grip on her arm.

Maybe another day that would’ve made Remy smile too. Or maybe she’d think about how her tummy filled with butterflies at Asher’s touch. But now she didn’t want to think about anything or draw more attention to herself, so she kept her head down and didn’t give anyone else eye contact.

A few minutes later, when they entered the station, Remy sipped her coffee. Every single police officer, dispatch, detective…everyone…turned their curious gazes onto her before quickly looking away. A glance up revealed the reason. Asher had upped his glare game. She sighed away the tension in her shoulders and fell into the feeling of weightlessness that stole away the dread in her chest. One thing Asher did well was protect her. She’d always felt safe with him. Until he broke her trust.