Page 42 of Executing Malice (Jefferson Rejects #4)

I touch the pulse at her throat with the tips of my fingers and run them down to the hollow. “You had a locket with my hair in it. I tried to grow my hair out for a bracelet, but you were impatient.”

“A locket?” She touches the spot where my fingers lingered, brows creased. “I didn’t have a locket when they found me. Maybe it fell off?”

“What were you wearing?” I ask, remembering the video footage of her leaving school that day.

I watch her frown and shake her head. “Panties and a torn shirt.”

“Was it a gray T-shirt?”

Her eyes widen. “Yes!”

“It was mine. You wore it to school that morning.”

Dejection softens her features, and she exhales heavily. “Sheriff Brewer asked if I wanted it back and I said no. He probably threw it away. I’m sorry. ”

“I don’t care about that.” I smooth the pad of my thumb along her cheekbone. “And we’ll get you another locket if that’s what you want.”

The hint of a smile lightens her eyes. She reaches up and tugs on a piece of hair hanging over my brow.

“Could almost make a bracelet.”

Rather than answer, I capture her wrist and tug her to me. I loop her arm around my neck and drop my face to her chest. Nuzzle the spot where her heart patters lightly.

“I’ll find out what happened,” I promise her. “I don’t care how long it takes.” My head lifts and I peer into her eyes. “I’ll find the person who took you.”

If.

I don’t say it out loud, don’t voice the tiny sprinkling of doubt that she ran on her own. But if someone took her, hurt her, nothing is going to stop me from finding them and burying them alive.

She lets me take her to work on my bike. There’s no custom-made seat dildo for her to enjoy — I offered, she refused. But I pull up in front of the bank and cut the engine.

Leila slips off. She hands me her helmet and waits until I’ve removed mine before leaning in and kissing me lightly.

“You really don’t have to sit out here anymore,” she tells me. “Go home. Go do whatever it is you normally used to do. I’ll be off soon. ”

“And I’ll be waiting for you,” I tell her simply. “I lost you once because I wasn’t there to protect you. I won’t do that again.”

With a soft sigh, she presses her brow to mine. “You’re making it very hard to think straight.”

“Good. Now, go on. I’ll be here.”

She gives me a slow, amused shake of her head before pulling away and hurrying to open the bank.

I watch her while she goes through her routine, but my mind keeps cycling back to our conversation over breakfast. The importance of Jefferson to her.

I meant what I said about making this my home if this town is where she wants to stay.

In the several weeks I’ve been here, I hadn’t really surveyed the place beyond a simple recon mission to assess what I’d be facing once I arrived.

I know the layout. Where everything is. I know the very basics, but. ..

Leila wants me to assimilate.

She wants me to know the people and understand the rules. I did not prepare for that.

My gaze travels over the faces passing by. Some are familiar, especially the shop owners along the block, but the majority are unfamiliar. I might have seen them in passing, but they were never my objective. Now, I need to make friends with these people .

I need to figure out how to make friends.

I never had any growing up. Most kids at school were terrified of Everett or their parents warned them to stay away because of my dad. At home, the foster kids never stayed long. After a while, I convinced myself I didn’t need anyone. I liked being alone.

Then Leila stepped into my life and all I wanted was her. She was enough.

I scratch the back of my head and try to find an easy victim. Theoretically, it shouldn’t be so hard; everyone is always smiling. I just need to find one and ... smile back?

Fuck.

Okay, maybe I need to treat this like a job, a highly encrypted mainframe with firewalls. If I get the walls down, I can scan for vulnerabilities. Test the ports. See where the weakest openings are.

That’s what people are basically. Coding and defenses. Firewalls designed to keep other people out. But even firewalls have backchannels. All I need is the right entry point. A glitch in the system. A common password to worm my way into Jefferson. I just need to be careful not to trip the alarms.

I need to install trust like malware and let it run in the background until one day, they realize I’ve been here all along and I’m not dangerous. That they can trust me .

Essentially, friendship is like social engineering. I have to convince these people I belong in their system, so they don’t lock me out.

Easy.

And I think I know exactly which wall to knock to the ground first.

Abandoning my bike so Leila doesn’t worry, I shove to my feet and stand a moment amongst the flow of pedestrians.

No one really glances at me, but the ones who do, immediately eye my arms where my T-shirt doesn’t hide my tattoos.

The displeasure as they look away has me reaching into the side compartment and dragging out my jacket.

Normally, I wouldn’t give a shit, but if I want this wall to crumble, I need to give them as little to be angry about as possible.

I even smooth my hands through my hair, dust my top for invisible particles. Certain I’m as tidy as I’m going to get, I stalk in the direction of Mama May’s Diner.

Mable is at the counter like she has been for months with her sour expression and Orphan Annie curls. Our eyes meet and I see hers narrow, but I’m glancing in the far corner of the diner where a small cluster of women sit, heads bunched together like some Saturday morning cartoon villain meeting.

I already hate this decision .

But I remind myself this is for Leila and stalk around the other tables to approach the Lady’s Tea Garden.

The leader of the gnomes, an emaciated vulture dressed in a satin blouse with jungle print notices me first. Her beady eyes narrow, pulling all the skin around them into deep creases that mirror the ones collecting around her pursed lips.

Too late to turn back, I reach them and incline my head.

“Morning ladies.”

Five heads pivot in my direction. Maybe they were waiting for someone else, because none look happy to see me.

“You again,” the leader snips, long fingers folding together on the table. “We were just discussing you.”

I doubt it was anything good, but I don’t ask.

I don’t care.

“I feel we’ve gotten off on the wrong foot,” I try, doing my best to keep my tone even. “I’m hoping we can try again.”

“And why would we do something like that after the atrocious way you’ve treated our town?”

I don’t think telling busybodies prodding for personal information to fuck off is atrocious, but I let them have it.

“Because I’m not going anywhere and I would like to coexist in a civilized manner with the people of Jefferson.”

I may as well have spewed profanities for the way the group recoils at my announcement.

“Move here?” Dolores cries, extra loud so the people in the back can hear. “To our quaint little town? Why on earth would you do such a thing?”

“My decision is my own. The only reason I’m here offering you an olive branch is because we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other and one day, you might find yourself in a situation you can’t talk your way out of, and you’ll need someone like me to be there for you.”

Skeletor huffs. “I have plenty of people I would call upon before I ever—”

“Not for this, Mrs. Winslow,” I cut in, tone even and heavy with warning.

“You see, I know you’ve been trying to dig up information on me.

The person you hired,” I reach for my phone and pull up the files I unearthed on my walk over, “Richard Parks.” I meet her wide gaze.

“He’s your grandson, isn’t he? Twenty-one.

Pretty smart. Graduated top of his class.

He used to work in Mayfield as an analyst at a startup.

But he was let go for getting pulled over for drinking and driving .

.. three times.” I tuck my phone back into my pocket.

“Hasn’t been able to find work since, isn’t that right? ”

Dolores stares at me like she’d swallowed a bug. “How...? That’s a lie. Richard would never—”

“You had Sheriff Brewer sweep it under the rug the first time, but the officers in Mayfield who pulled him over the following times had no loyalties to you, so they did their job by writing the reports which were filed and, well...” I give a shrug, “are public record.”

“Dolores?” one of the women squeaks, horror etched in her big eyes.

I don’t recognize her.

Truthfully, I don’t recognize any of them. I did look over each of their files, but my main target was Dolores. The rest aren’t a threat on their own.

“It’s a lie,” Dolores huffs, face the color of a ripe plum. “Absolutely slanderous. I should have you—”

“You won’t,” I cut her off. “You see, Mrs. Winslow, my talents are very unique. Some might call it a superpower. In minutes, I can unearth every dark, dirty secret you’re trying to hide, and I will use them to their fullest if it means getting through to you that I am staying.

I will be part of your town. I will attend events and BBQs.

You don’t have to say hi to me, but if you try to run me off, or hurt me, or God help you, if you so much as pull a hair on Leila’s head, I will ruin you.

I will destroy your entire world and piss on the ashes.

” I pause to make sure my words are sinking home before adding, “Do we understand each other?”

I don’t look at the others but keep my focus level on the woman gaping at me like I smacked her. I don’t expect her to answer, but I take her silence as submission and incline my head .

“Excellent. It’s been a pleasure having this talk with you, ladies. I’m glad we’ve come to an agreement. Breakfast is on me.” I reach into my pocket, pull out a handful of bills and set it on the table. “Enjoy your day.”

I ignore the multitude of eyes boring into me as I turn on my heels and start in the direction of the door. The bell overhead tinkles with my exit and I let myself smile slightly once I’m outside.

That wasn’t so hard.

I thought making friends would be more challenging, but so far, so good. Now, Leila doesn’t have to worry about me anymore.

Feeling pretty good about myself, I start back in the direction of the bank. I tuck my hands into my pockets and keep my strides slow and unthreatening. I tell myself I’ll smile at the next person who smiles at me first.

But I don’t get that far.

“Now, that was fascinating to watch.”

I start at the familiar voice behind me. I don’t even need to turn to know exactly who it is.

Reed Weir. The non-brother. In all his official glory. I swear, even his damn badge looks shinier somehow.

“Officer,” I mumble .

Hands set loosely on his hips, he ambles closer until there’s only a foot of space between us. I know an intimidation tactic when I see one, so I hold my ground.

“Nice pants,” he says, baffling me.

I glance down at them, then at him. “Thanks.”

“They look remarkably familiar.”

I know I’m staring at him like he’s lost his mind, but I’m beginning to think maybe he has.

My silence has him swaying the remaining step closer.

“You were in my sister’s bedroom yesterday morning.”

Temper prickling, I frown. “She’s not...” I stop myself. This is not the thing to fixate on. “That’s none of your business.”

“Wrong, asshole.” He’s so close his nose nearly bumps mine. The scent of his peppermint toothpaste tingles over my mouth. “You think I’m going to let you mess with her?”

“I’m going to marry her,” I tell him flatly, wishing he’d take a step back or kiss me already. Preferably the former.

Could have announced my plans to sacrifice Leila to my chipmunk gods for the way the man recoils, face morphing into one of abject horror.

“The hell you are.”

His outrage is nearly comical, if his hand hadn’t twitched in the direction of his holster.

“Leila isn’t your concern. ”

“She is my sister,” he snaps again like that’s supposed to scare me into running. “You so much as breathe wrong around her and I’ll ... what’s your name?”

Obviously, he’s going to look into me. He’s going to dig up my name and only find the breadcrumbs I left behind after wiping my past clean. I’m not worried about it, except I don’t like people trying to pry into my life, a fact I’m going to need to get used to if we’re staying in Jefferson.

Fuck.

It’s fine. I’m doing this for Leila.

I open my mouth to tell him when his radio crackles to life with the sound of a woman’s tired voice.

“Reed, respond. Domestic disturbance on Ashford Lane. Officer requested.”

But he’s too busy staring at me like he’s debating whether or not to put me in cuffs just for existing. Unfortunately for him, the dispatcher is more insistent, calling his name and demanding he respond.

“Damn it,” he mutters. “This isn’t over. You hear me?”

I give him a mock salute. “Loud and clear.”

He hesitates just long enough to make me think he’s debating just arresting me on principle alone. His glower is personal and visceral. The kind that could curdle milk.

“This conversation isn’t over. ”

I give a slow nod. “Well, you know where to find me.”

He bares his teeth. “You—”

I don’t get to hear whatever is on his mind when his walkie chirps. Loudly.

“Reed!”

I can almost understand his frustration when he blows out a snarl through his teeth and yanks the device from his belt.

“Goddamn it, Mandy, I heard you.” I watch him visibly struggle to calm himself before bringing the walkie back up to add gently, “Thank you.” Then it’s just us once more and he’s frowning again. “I will hunt you down like a rabid animal if you hurt her.”

With that, he turns to stalk with wide strides towards his cruiser. I watch him climb behind the wheel and tear out of the parking lot, tires spitting gravel.