Page 21 of Hunted by the Headless Horseman (Roars and Romances #5)

“What exactly are you accusing me of, Sheriff?”

BELLE

Ihave a notifiable spring in my step as I prepare the shop for closing time . Twenty minutes till.

Heat tangles in my cheeks, and I feel like I’m glowing. I guess that’s what happens when you’re having mind-blowing sex every night for the past week. My insides grow warmer when I think of Jack arriving soon. Sometimes, he lingers all day, a regular fixture sitting in the back chairs with his knit pumpkin head, looking like a realistic Halloween decoration. He scared the stuffings out of Mrs. Kravitson once when he turned his head as she checked out a nearby shelf.

This evening, I’m wearing a dark blue flared skirt with double-lined, large buttons extending from my waist to my thighs. A red, lightweight, short-sleeved cardigan. Black stockings I can’t wait for Jack to peel off and find the surprise thong. Red, lace-up Oxford heels, vintage, complete my ensemble. Well, and the fun newsies cap.

I’m just picking up the dishes when the bell jingles above the door, signaling a customer. Setting the dishes down, I leave the sitting area and wander back toward the front.

I stop in my tracks. My blood chills. My face pales. Swallowing a hard knot, I try to keep it together as Sheriff Tanner practically marches into the bookshop, in full uniform, and lips pressed into a grimace. He’s definitely not here for pleasure.

“Good evening, Sheriff Tanner,”

I say respectfully, moving toward the counter.

“I’m afraid it’s almost closing time.”

Tucking his fingers into the waistband, his gun a few inches from his hands, he says gruffly, “I’m here on official business, Miss. Crowley.”

I stiffen, unable to help but wince at my former last name. Mimi helped me officially change my last name, and I took hers.

I do busy work, determined not to let him ruffle me. His greasy black strands are slicked back and curling just under his ears. But it doesn’t make his eyes any less intimidating. Or his 6’2 bulky frame.

“I’m not sure what official business you may have with Belladonna’s Bookshop.”

I scrunch my brows, refilling the caramel candy jar and straightening my business cards.

He advances toward the counter, carrying the scent of cigarette smoke with him.

“I was recently apprised of a criminal act when you were present. Something you failed to report.”

His brows draw low, prickling me more.

“And who informed you of this?”

I lift my chin, deadpanning with him.

“I believe you know very well who, Miss. Crowley.”

“Holloway,”

I correct firmly.

“Belladonna.”

He makes a sucking noise with his teeth, barely acknowledging me, his eyes centered far lower than they should be. Another pig of the patriarchy. One well connected with the Covenant.

Sheriff Tanner’s lips curl into something that isn’t quite a smile, more a sneer.

“You can call yourself whatever you like,”

he drawls, “but you’ll always be Miss Crowley to me. Can’t run from your roots, now, can you?”

I clench one hand on the other side of the counter, fantasizing about using the taser I have hidden under the cash register. I find it’s a very effective stress-relieving coping mechanism.

I keep my hands steady, gripping the jar a little tighter.

“What exactly are you accusing me of, Sheriff?”

He leans in, and angry sweat breeds on the back of my neck.

“A week ago, there was an incident in the woods during that Halloween haunted walk the town likes to put on. Several men were injured—seriously injured—and I have it on good authority that you were involved.”

I don’t flinch. I fucking glare.

“I was attacked by those men. And I have the evidence to prove it.”

Of course, I saved the photo evidence of the wounds. I reach under the counter, snatching up the envelope I’d prepared with the photos and an SD card with the video I recorded showing my bruises. And the record of my visit to the doctor, along with a medication prescription receipt.

The Sheriff takes the envelope, opens it, and takes a cursory glance before tapping it against his palm.

“I will take them back to the station and have them analyzed to make sure they weren’t doctored.”

Then, he snorts, the sound thick with disdain.

“Do you have any proof that these were the very men who attacked and wounded you?”

“No, but is there any motive for someone else?”

He chuckles, the tone sick and twisted.

“If you were out alone during the haunted Halloween walk, it could have been anyone from performers to the occasional drifter we get. And who knows if this isn’t some silly fantasy from you women in the village loving your gossip.”

Before I can so much as huff, his eyes narrow, his voice dropping to a dangerously low tone.

“Funny thing is, Miss Crowley,”

he drawls, “the men who respectfully confronted you about returning to the Covenant mentioned someone else showed up.”

I don’t know what infuriates me more. The “respectfully”

line or the idea of Jack being discovered.

“They said he wore a three-piece suit, a deadly cane, and a knitted jack-o-lantern head. Beat the hell out of them, left one bleeding and unconscious, near dead.”

He taps his fingers on the counter, each sound a heavy, deliberate thud.

“But when we went to investigate, there was no body to be found. Almost like it up and vanished. Now, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

He cocks his head, his eyes boring into mine.

“You’re not harboring some vigilante, are you?”

I raise a brow.

“And you say I have wild fantasies!”

I couldn’t resist. It was just too good. And worth it to see him getting edgy with a perturbed leer.

With a heavy sigh, I play the role of a traumatized girl, sniffing and shedding a tear.

“Sheriff Tanner, I understand you’re just doing your job. But those men attacked me. They weren’t trying to rob me or scare me; they were trying to take me back. You know exactly who sent them.”

“Do I?”

He crosses his arms, emphasizing the bulk of his frame, his gun just inches from me.

“Or were you just where you shouldn’t have been, alone and unprotected? You’re a smart girl, Belle. You should’ve stayed where you belonged, with your family, with your husband.”

It can’t be helped. My blood boils, and I almost lurch with feminine fury.

“Sorry, ex-husband,”

he corrects, but his smirk is longer, more crooked.

Anger surging in my veins, I firmly declare, “Thaddeus is not my family, and he never was,”

I snap, unable to help my rising voice.

“He lost any right to call me that when he cracked my rib and broke my arm.”

For a moment, something dark flickers in Tanner’s eyes, and he leans in even closer, dropping his voice to a near-whisper.

“Well, Thaddeus doesn’t seem to agree with you. He has made it quite clear that you fell off the swing in your backyard when it broke. Seems you’ve got some unfinished business with him, and he’s looking forward to setting things straight.”

My breath catches, my heart slamming against my rib cage. All my blood congeals. Tears burn acid in my throat. It’s enough to make me run right out of the shop until I find Jack, find my home’s arms, and stay there forever.

Before I can respond, the door swings open, and Mrs. Kravitson sweeps in, her eyes piercing into the situation. Her eyes snap between me and the Sheriff, and her lips tighten into a thin, determined line.

It’s the first time I truly gravitate to her, moving around the counter until I arrive at her side. She has suddenly gone from annoyance to ally. My emotions run away with me, and I throw my arms around her neck and cry.

“Sheriff Tanner,”

she says, her voice like iron wrapped in velvet, “unless you’re here to purchase some literature, I suggest you make your way out. This is no place for intimidation or threats. Whatever business you have here, Belle is an upstanding member of this community, and I won’t have you treating her like a criminal.”

She strokes the back of my hair before releasing me, stepping forward to the Sheriff, shrinking his presence beneath the gravity of her matriarchal energy.

Everyone knows she is the mouthpiece of the town.

Tanner stiffens, straightening as if he might push back, but Mrs. Kravitson holds up a hand.

“Now, I’ve got half a mind to inform the town Council that you’re harassing innocent citizens, or worse, aiding in the pursuits of that vile Covenant.”

Her eyes flash.

“Unless you’d like to tell me otherwise?”

Everything inside me is cheering her on because, while the police force under Sheriff Tanner may be Covenant-allied, the Council most certainly is not. One or two might be on their side, but the majority are outliers. They won’t quarrel with them, but they won’t entertain them either.

The sheriff grits his teeth, nostrils flaring. But Mrs. Kravitson doesn’t waver, and I watch in silent awe as his confidence crumbles. He huffs, muttering, “Just doing my job,”

and turns on his heel, stalking out of the shop without another word.

I can’t help my lingering apprehension. Thaddeus once told me he would never leave the Covenant grounds. But if he has “unfinished business”

with me, and his first attempt at reclaiming me failed, what will he do?

I can’t think about that. Jack. Jack will come. He always comes.

As the door shuts behind him, Mrs. Kravitson turns to me, her expression softening.

“You all right, dear?”

I nod, threading my fingers together, my heart finally slowing.

“I am now,”

I say, my voice shaky but honest.

“Thank you.”

“Men like him,”

Mrs. Kravitson scoffs, “are all bark when faced with a woman who knows her worth. Don’t you ever forget that.”

I part my lips, a little undone.

“I want to apologize to you.”

She scrunches her brows.

“Whatever for, Belle?”

I step toward her, my palms open to her.

“I haven’t truly appreciated how…influential you are, Mrs. Kravitson. I might know my worth, but you—you made him cow! People listen to you, respect you. And I am so sorry if I have not done the same at certain times, and I truly hope you forg?—”

“Bless my soul, child!”

she exclaims in a deep southern twang and cups my shoulders.

“You, Belladonna Holloway, are far more influential than I, as you say. Oh, they might fear and respect me because I’ve always been a force of nature, which my quiet husband loved all his days till he passed. But you, Belle!—Oh, our precious Belle, as far as our town is concerned, you are a national treasure.”

I’m at a loss for words. Utterly speechless.

She reaches out to finger my curls.

“You came out of that dreaded cult. The first to ever do so following Lizzy’s egress.”

Both words ricochet inside me…in a positive way. She called Mimi Lizzy. Not Elizabeth. Perhaps they were closer than I ever realized. And seriously? Mrs. Kravitson knows words like “egress”? Anyone looking at her would assume she’s simply the old-town, frumpy gossip with her worn dresses, peasant skirts, and vintage blouses with unashamed gray buns.

“Um…”

I manage to recover and lower my hands to squeeze hers.

“I suppose you didn’t simply come in to be my knight in shining armor?”

She beams at me.

“Our astute girl, yes.”

She knows “astute”? “I came to see if you might know where a certain book is. I loaned it to Lizzy many years ago.”

Suspicion prickles me at first, but it could be any book. Lifting my shoulders, I squeeze them together, hoping she doesn’t mind my next question.

“If you don’t mind if I interrupt for a moment, could you share why you call her Lizzy?”

Mrs. Kravitson smiles warmly.

“I don’t mind for a moment, sweet Belle. But if you wouldn’t mind…I’d care for a spot of tea.”

I blink—then immediately excuse myself for the kitchen.

As soon as I open the swinging door, I come face to face with Jack’s pumpkin head. I dart my eyes to the front and give him the pronounced “shh”

finger to my lips. Loud enough he may hear in our bond before I take him by the arm and direct us to the tea kettle. Electric, it brews in less than 60 seconds.

As I brew the tea and carefully select the china teacups for the moment, I whisper, “I have so much to tell you, Jack. I just need to speak to Mrs. Kravitson. I will tell you everything soon. Wait for me, please? You can eavesdrop as much as you can.”

Jack slides a hand around my waist, and I can sense every ounce of his possession, his eagerness from his hardness throbbing against me. I would be able to eavesdrop much better if I released inside you first, my Belle.

I part my lips but can’t help my blush and my smile.

It won’t take long, he whispers in our bond and fingers my curls with his other hand.

I turn off all the lights, but I still need him to clamp a hand around my mouth as he fucks me against the nearest wall while the kettle sings its finale. When he plays with my clit, I fall apart, biting as much of his palm as I can to prevent my shrieks from penetrating the air.

As soon as he finds his release, I grip the sides of his face, kiss him hard as I’ve done every night this week, and then un-mount. As soon as his extensive length leaves my center, it takes everything in me to leave the sanctum of his fullness.

He remains close while I adjust my stockings, then prepare the tea. I love his nearness. He should never feel like he needs to give me space. I don’t care if it’s not befitting an “independent”

woman like myself. A thread of space between us would be too much. Maybe it’s more independent to make that choice for myself.

I turn with the two teacups in my hands. He’s still shrouded in darkness as the curse dictates. I often wonder if I turned on the lights, would the Curse vanish his face? Would I see him but for a moment?

Too curious about Mrs. Kravitson’s connection to my grandmother, I carry the tea to the main sitting area where she waits. I’ve never taken a moment to appreciate how kind her features are beneath the news-mongering facade. She must have been a beauty when she was younger, too. Sometimes, she gives me this sense of…déjà vu. I’ve never been able to figure it out.

After setting the tray down on the coffee table, Mrs. Kravitson helps herself to peppermint while I select a black, cinnamon-spiced tea. Late-night activities with Jack have me taking more caffeine than normal.

Scooting to the edge of my seat, I join my hands, meeting Mrs. Kravitson’s knowing brown eyes. In some ways, she reminds me of Mimi, but Mimi was strong and wise with a matronly charisma. Mrs. Kravitson is shrewd, cunning, and far more perceptive than I’ve given her credit for.

“Thank you for staying, Mrs. Kravitson,”

I tell her, steeping my teabag.

She waves a hand.

“Please, call me Mrs. K. Or Mrs. Cassie. Your Mimi used to call me Cassie.”

My chest warms because I don’t know if I ever caught her first name until now.

Once she sips her tea, Mrs. Cassie settles into her chair, the familiar creak of the old wood filling the small room. Her eyes soften as she looks at me, tracing memories that seem to stretch back lifetimes.

“You know,”

she begins, her voice husky with age, “your grandmother and I go back further than you know. I was just a little girl on a farm outside a small town with high fences all around it.”

I raise my brows at how close Mrs. Cassie was to the Covenant.

Curious, I lean forward and ask, “You knew her when you were kids?”

Mrs. Cassie nods, a faint smile curling her lips.

“Oh, yes. Your grandmother and I met when we were about ten years old. I lived on the farmhouse just outside the boundary of that cult, and Mimi was supposed to stay within those fences, you see. But there was this spot, right on the edge of the woods. It’s where Lizzy found a break in the fence line. She was always a free spirit, you must know.”

I nod, folding my hands around the warm mug with nostalgia creeping into me along with the heartache.

Mrs. Cassie sets her mug on the tray and smiles shrewdly.

“One day, she slipped through and wandered into the forest, and I may have stumbled upon her because a bee stung her, and she was caterwauling like a crazed banshee!”

I laugh softly because I can imagine her like that as a girl. It makes perfect sense that my grandmother was a bold and defiant little girl, stepping beyond the life she’d known.

“What happened then?”

“We became fast friends,”

she says, eyes twinkling.

“Every chance we got, we’d meet in those woods, always at the same old oak tree on my family’s property. We’d play for hours, pretending to be queens of a hidden kingdom or witches brewing potions. We even buried a little box there, filled with our greatest treasures—some pebbles, a broken locket, a feather we swore was from a magical bird. I reckon the box is still there, somewhere beneath those roots.”

My heart swells with the image, a pang of longing and wonderment mixing in my chest.

“I never knew she had a friend outside the Covenant…”

Her smile falters, her eyes lost in a distant memory.

“She wasn’t supposed to. The rules were strict—cult folk weren’t meant to mix with us ‘outsiders.’ But Lizzy was different. She was hungry to learn, to live. My family…well, we were the kind of folks who lived off the land and knew every herb and root in those woods. My mama and her mama before her taught me the secrets of the forest—the plants that could heal, the ones that could harm. I taught Mimi all I knew. She soaked it up like sunlight, and it wasn’t long before she could name every leaf and berry just as well as I could.”

My lips part in awe, knowing my grandmother’s midwife history in the cult. Throat tightening, I ask, “That is why she was so good with herbs and remedies. It was you…?”

“Yes,”

she says, straightening in her chair, pride evident in her voice.

“That’s why she became the midwife she was—helping all those women, even when others turned their backs, believing some were beyond saving. She was a healer, through and through. But when she reached marrying age, everything changed. It was a novelty, but your grandfather was a good man. She loved him fiercely, you know? And between her own children and those babies she brought into the world—they became her life. For a long time, she was lost to me.”

“But then her husband passed…”

I utter softly, hardly noticing my steeping tea.

“Yes. And once the children were grown, she found her way back to me. We picked up where we left off, just two old girls laughing in the woods again. I was a widow by then as well. And when she had this idea for a bookshop…”

Her lips tug into a knowing smile as she appraises me.

“I may have helped her take out a loan. She poured her heart into this place. Made it a refuge for all the misfits, the wanderers, and those looking for a bit of magic in the everyday.”

Tears rise in my throat, burning my eyes.

“You helped her start Belladonna’s?”

“I did.”

Mrs. Cassie reaches out to squeeze my hand.

“Because that’s what friends do. And before she passed, she made me promise I’d look after you, Belle.”

I lower my head, studying her hand in mine, inhaling the scent of her—rosemary oil with hints of sage. That’s when I notice the familiar herb nestled alongside the chrysanthemum in her bun.

“Why didn’t she ever tell me?”

My voice cracks with my emotion.

“I asked her not to. It was…for both our sakes. And yours. I can’t go into all my reasons, but your grandmother asked me on her deathbed to watch over you, Belle.”

“And the book?”

I circle back.

“It’s a book that has been in my family for four generations, handed down from grandmother to mother to daughter. What you have, dear Belle, is the original. I recently lent it to Lizzy. Your grandmother made her medical notes in the copy, which is buried in our little treasure box. But I was hoping to bury both and unite them again…”

she hints, her shoulders lifting.

My pulse thuds when I remember how I dripped that blood right onto the summoning spell page.

And Mrs.

Kravitson is intelligent and cunning enough to put two and two together when it comes to the “mysterious stranger with a knit pumpkin head”.

Regardless of her promise to Mimi, since she likely knows of the criminal act, would she be duty-bound to tell the Council that I am harboring a vigilante? Or worse, she would be so protective and concerned for me, she could tell Jack to stay away or expose him.

“If you wouldn’t mind, Mrs. Kravitson,”

I straighten in my seat, folding my fingers, “now that I know about the book’s history, I would love the opportunity to study it more.”

I hold my breath, knowing I could replace the page. I have all the tools for it.

She tilts her head, scrutinizing me before nodding her consent, and relief fills my lungs with oxygen again.

“Of course, sweet Belle. And rest assured, I will do everything in my power to ensure you do not fall into the hands of the Covenant again. And if that pesky sheriff comes back to confront you, or that sorry asshole for an ex-husband, call me. I will inform the Council immediately. And I have a proper pistol for said situations.”

She cursed?

Oh, it can’t be helped. I get up. She draws her brows low in suspicion over her intelligent eyes. In seconds, I’ve closed the distance between us and thrown my arms around her neck.

“Bless my soul, child!”

she exclaims, but I hear the affection in her voice. With a soft laugh, she strokes the back of my hair.

“Now, now, don’t you go about fussing. You truly have your grandmother’s spirit.”

She stands with me, and I shrug, squeezing my shoulders.

“I’ve always wanted to be as bold and strong as her, but my heart isn’t up to the task, which is why I’ve trained my mind so much more.”

“Belladonna Holloway…”

Mrs. Kravitson says sternly while cupping my shoulders.

“Your heart is stronger than you believe. It may have scars, but it beats with a courage your grandmother always saw in you. Strength isn’t just about muscle or bone, child—it’s about how you keep going, even when the world tells you to stop.”

A shiver courses up my spine at the thought of Thaddeus coming here. Mrs. Kravitson’s words wrap around my wounded heart like a protective blanket.

“But what if it’s not enough?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

She smiles at me, the lines around her eyes softening.

“To remind you that you never have to carry the weight alone. You have roots now, just like the ones Mimi planted, ones you have nurtured. You will not wither if the storm comes, our dear Belle. Your roots will strengthen you when the time comes. Trust in that.”

I may not know quite what she means, but my heart is bursting.

“Thank you,”

I manage, my voice thick with emotion.

“For everything.”

Mrs. Kravitson’s eyes glisten for the first time I’ve known her.

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s been my pleasure.”

She tucks a few curls behind my ear.

“Your grandmother would be so proud of you. And I’m proud to keep my promise to her—because you’re as fierce and wonderful as she ever was.”

Once Mrs. Kravitson departs, I rush back to the kitchen in a fluster, hopeful that Jack and I can figure out what to do about the book together. I’m eager to see what he thinks of the conversation.

But when I swing the door open, fear slams my heart against my rib cage. He’s gone. Where did he go? Bolting for the stairs, I hurry up to my bedroom, praying he is there. I can picture him waiting in the darkness with his riding crop, ready to lower my body on the bed, gather my skirts up, and turn my ass red.

As soon as I see the note left on my pillow with a pink rose, I practically lunge for it, unfolding it. My eyes race over the words.

My Dearest Belle,

You will remain here. You will be a good girl and wait for me to return. I have some business to tend to. If you leave, if you try to follow me, I will whip your ass so hard, you won’t sit down till next October.

Your monstrous love,

Jackson Elias Moore

Oh, god, Jack, what has he done? Where is he go?—

He heard everything. Is he going after the sheriff? Or worse…is he going to the Covenant?

Blood thunders in my eardrums as I grab my scarf and coat, fly out the back door, and head in the opposite direction toward the manor.

I need to get to Revenant.