Once Upon A Half-Time 2(160)

“Just replace the goddamned plates,” Sam said. “Now.”

And risk my fucking certification? Hell no. “Screw you. You set your own death trap.”

“No one’s asking you to play fire marshal.”

“You’re lucky I don’t call him in here.”

I flipped him off as I stormed out. My record was ruined already. If I got pinned to a job with another electrical fire?

Fuck it. Once was enough.

Hell, I still couldn’t believe Josie’s shop burned the way it did. She never had an issue with the building or health codes. All her equipment was top of the line, too new for fraying cords. How the hell did the arsonist even set it on fire? Not like Matthias left him a detailed instruction manual on the store’s outdated circuits.

My chest seized.

I nearly walked into traffic and got my ass kicked by a bus.

In that moment, I knew exactly what had happened that night.

I knew how the arsonist did it and why I was framed.

Revelation felt a hell of a lot like a screwdriver touching a live wire. What the hell was I supposed to do? I had to get back to Josie. She deserved closure. I needed…

Anything.

Just an excuse to see her again. She held my heart, and the aching pit in my chest festered and ached without it. I couldn’t think straight when I was separated from her.

How the hell was I going to tell her the truth?

She hurt me, betrayed me, but I couldn’t protect her anymore. She had a right to know what had happened—even if it killed her.

It was late when I made it to her apartment, later by the time I worked up the courage to approach her steps. Like a ball-less asshole, I twisted with cowardice and shame.

How had we fucked this up so badly? She forgave me when I offered my services to Nolan, even when she knew I was in danger every second I let that bastard near.

She had been scared. Helpless. And she understood me better than I knew myself. No matter what I said, no matter how much I swore, nothing would have stopped me from murdering Nolan a year ago.

She didn’t put me in jail to stop Nolan. She did it to protect him, to save me from myself because I was too consumed with rage and now too consumed with revenge to see clearly.

I lost her because of it.

No. It ended now. I let time and prison and people separate us for too long. I wasn’t letting her get away. I promised to marry her before. I’d make good on it now.

I took the steps to her porch two at a time, but my fist stilled before I pounded on the door. Saint Christie was a quiet town, and not everyone locked their doors.

But even Josie knew better than to leave it wide open.

I stepped inside. Her lights were on. Chinese food containers cluttered her kitchen—usually pristine and orderly. Papers and plans littered every available surface—anything and everything pertaining to her shop.

Josie wasn’t in her bed. She wasn’t home, but her purse hung by the door. I searched her bedroom and found her phone tossed under the nightstand. I scanned through it, reading texts I never answered. Plenty from Delta. Some from Willowbend.

One text from Nolan.

Something was wrong. Her reply was hostile and accompanied with a sound clip. I listened to it, my stomach churning as I realized she threatened a man who would murder to protect his reputation.

This wasn’t about revenge anymore. Anger and rage no longer consumed me.

A new terror threaded my veins. Nolan Rhys had taken Josie.

And if I didn’t kill him first, Josie would die.





19





Josie





“We need to talk.”

The voice blurred in my ears. Could a voice blur? He didn’t slur it. The words just sludged together in my head. Wavering. Bouncing.

Leeching into my thoughts.

I knew that voice. It was one that required the restraints on my hands and legs.

Mayor Nolan Rhys bound me to a chair with ropes, and hid me in a dusty, flickering cabin.

No, barn?

And he wanted to talk?

“I never should have baked cookies for you,” I said.

My tongue felt fat, like someone made bananas foster in my mouth. I didn’t let him see me tremble, and I didn’t dare get enraged. I needed a clear head for this. Needed to stay calm. God only knew what he used to knock me out, but it wasn’t confectioners’ sugar or cocoa powder.

Would it hurt the baby?

Nolan knelt before my chair. His three piece suit was as impractical in the streets of Saint Christie as it was kneeling in his barn—even if he refused to let his pinstriped slacks touch the weathered floorboards. Not like he ever did a day of hard work here.

Except when he torched his campaign signs and framed Maddox for the crime.

“Josie? Are you awake?”

I was now. I didn’t want to imagine what he did while I was out. I still wore my tank top and panties, but that was it. Not my most modest moment or anything I trusted around Nolan. His gaze lowered one too many times. The shivers slithered over me, one wave after another.