Page 5 of What’s Left of Me (What Left #1)

My back stiffens, and every muscle in my body suddenly locks up at the sound of his voice.

I don’t really know how he crossed me since this is the one thing I didn’t want happening today, but Sterling promised I wouldn’t have to speak with him when we agreed to the meeting.

Supposedly the FBI just wanted an updated statement to see what I know.

What a load of shit.

“Keep moving,” someone else says, and I don’t turn back. As much as I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of my attention, part of me is curious. Convicted killers don’t do photoshoots. I don’t know what he looks like anymore.

“Joelle,” Alastair continues, his silky smooth voice matching the one from my nightmares. “I know you haven’t forgotten me.”

“Don’t acknowledge him,” Sterling advises me, stepping behind me and between us. “Keep moving along, Constantine.”

“I’ll do whatever the lady asks.”

Lady. That irritates me, maybe because we used to say lady sarcastically in high school when the three of us were all friends. Just me, Vinny, and Alastair. Before all of this.

Against my better judgment, I turn and meet his gaze.

Alastair always had a unique look about him, from his dual colored eyes to his pale blonde hair.

He’s kept his hair shaggy, letting it reach past his ears in an even messier look than Sterling.

I suppose as a patient he doesn’t have many people to dress up for.

He’s tall, taller than my husband by several inches. But it’s those eyes, one green and one hazel, that draw me into a false sense of comfort. He grins, revealing his dimples, and subconsciously I reach up and touch my cheeks.

I have dimple piercings. It’s something I added to my look years ago when we officially moved to Denver.

My hair is a strawberry blonde, long and loose down my back almost to my waist. The billowy clothing I wear helps cover the scars but I see the way his eyes sweep over me, possibly looking for signs of his handiwork.

Hopefully my blue eyes convey how cold he makes me inside. Nevermind the rush of something I can’t quite name shooting through me, I refuse to equate anything about Alastair to lust after he tried to kill me.

His chuckle is low as he watches me, his lip hooking up into that half smirk I used to love. “Copying me now? I like the piercings on you.”

“Fuck off, Alastair,” I growl, proud my voice doesn’t wobble as we stare at each other. Sterling remains between us like a precaution, but he doesn’t stop us from interacting either. “Your face was the last one I pictured when I had these piercings done.”

“Ah, but you still picture me?” he asks, a nurse and a guard remaining around him. It’s interesting how they all watch but no one cuts in. “You can pretend you don’t think of me, Joelle, but you’ve spoken your truth. I’d rather be the face in your nightmares than fade into oblivion.”

My mouth pops open at that, but I don’t know what to say. Between hearing him call me Killer and that insane remark, I can’t form a response. Instead I huff and turn away, intent on finding Vinny for real and getting the hell out of here.

His voice rings down the hall, following me even as I try to escape the institution. “See you soon, Killer.”

“This is what they brought us back to Citrus Grove for?”

Vinny cuts me a glare as we leave the penitentiary, his hand low and protective against the small of my back. The dark ink across his skin bounces in the sunlight, and I tug self-consciously at my sleeves again.

The moment he spots the motion, the annoyance in his dark eyes disappears and I immediately regret doing it.

He’s attuned to my habits after almost twenty years together, and guaranteeing that the scars are hidden is something I do when I’m nervous or uncomfortable.

This isn’t the club we co-own back in Denver.

This is the place that birthed my nightmares, and so far it feels like we’re being dragged around on nothing more than a wild hoax.

Someone died, and that’s a tragedy. But how the FBI decided that two losers from Alastair’s past could possibly help out is beyond me. No one cares about his two former high school lovers when he’s the serial psychopath that escaped a Supermax to sit and take up space in a penitentiary.

Vinny’s phone rings, and a string of curses slip free from his lips.

I’m only half listening, looking around the outside of the building as he huffs and answers the call.

I know tensions are high for everyone, but there’s literally only two people I can think of that he would answer a call from right now.

Which means either something is happening with the club, or the two people we left behind to watch it have absolutely no idea what they are doing and how to manage things so they’re calling us. Our longtime friend Emeric is capable but has a short tolerance for ignorance, and my cousin Serenity…

Well, I threw her into the deep end when it comes to managing a BDSM club. We wanted someone in the family watching the club to help keep our members at ease. We dropped the news that we would be leaving the state for an undetermined amount of time back around the Christmas holiday.

That feels like a lifetime ago, but it’s only been a few days. I miss Colorado, and Florida in February is too warm for my tastes. I long for mountains in the distance and being as far away from Citrus Grove as possible.

“Emeric, you have to work with her, not just lose your temper on her,” Vinny groans, rubbing a hand over his face.

I force a smile in his direction before stepping further away.

We’re on the outskirts of the building, and I can see guards just inside the mirrored doors.

No one is going to casually escape from inside there, but I don’t know if I can handle any drama from the club after that exhausting meeting and the unfortunate moment with Alastair.

“Pardon me.”

I jump, surprised someone snuck up on me that easily. Usually I’m painfully aware of everything around me, but when I turn and eye the man standing just behind me I do a double take.

He’s got the telltale tanned skin and sun-bleached highlights of a person who likes the outdoors.

Florida seems to suit him, and the thin t-shirt and loose shorts give me the impression he’s laid back, maybe even a surfer or into outdoorsy hobbies.

He’s pretty much everything I do not look for in a guy, but he seems nice enough when he smiles.

In fact, he reminds me a tiny bit of Alastair, and that just makes a shiver shoot up my spine again. I step back instead of responding to him, and a memory surges through my head in place of a response.

“I got in!”

Two heads lift at the sound of my voice, watching as I dart back into the living area. Vinny’s home is my favorite place to meet after work, and he’s become my home away from home. A smile splits across Vinny’s face, and he’s up from his seat before the other man moves.

His hands grip my waist, and he lifts me like I’m nothing. The acceptance letter slips from my fingers as we twirl around, and I throw my head back to peer up at the ceiling with a laugh.

We’re leaving Florida. I’m going to get as far away from here as I can.

As Vinny sets me down I turn my attention to the other occupant, and Alastair’s smile is more forced than Vinny’s is. “Congratulations, Joelle.”

Smiling, I gently shove his arm. “You could try to be excited for me, Al.”

“I am excited,” he tells me, reaching out to stroke my cheek. I lean into his touch, feeling as Vinny steps in closer behind me to kiss my neck. “We both are.”

“And you’re both coming, too,” I remind him, reaching out to grip his hand as my other moves to slide down and grip Vinny's arm that’s banded around my waist. “Right?”

“To Denver?” Alastair clarifies, his hand never leaving my face.

“Boulder,” I correct. “The University of Boulder. I got into CGU too, but that’s not where I want to go. We have to get out of Citrus Grove.”

The two of them exchange a look over my head, and it’s only a tad annoying. We’ve had the same plans since junior year when things changed between our little trio, but we all believe in one simple thing:

Citrus Grove is Hell.

“Of course,” Alastair says, but his voice sounds distant. “We’re nearly high school grads, Jo. Our lives are about to change forever.”

“Is this normal?”

Blinking, the memory scatters. I stare straight ahead, but the guy from before is only half in front of me.

Vinny is there too, his brows knit with concern, and he reaches out to grip my chin.

His dark chocolate eyes meet mine, and it gives me something grounding to focus on.

I’m intimately familiar with his features, from the short buzzed black hair to his flawless complexion and the dark facial hair that I love feeling against my skin.

His face is what I use to ground me when nothing else seems to matter.

His fingertip brushes over my chin, and the firmness in his tone when he says my name helps to drag me back to the moment. “Jo.”

I shake my head and rock back on my feet, feeling his hand release me without question. Vinny doesn’t hesitate, stepping around to clutch my hand so we face the other man together. He isn’t tucking me away against him, but I feel his strength when he stands beside me.

Then I zero in on the stranger again. He’s looking between us curiously, then a smile slowly works its way across his face. “ Oh. So you two are Jo and Vinny.”

Glancing at my husband, I realize he’s as lost as I feel.

We haven’t had a chance to talk since I stormed out of the meeting room with Sterling and Jensen, but from the look on his face I know he’s just as confused as I am.

Thankfully Vinny responds, because I’m still reeling from the memory. “And who the hell are you?”

“Oh, sorry,” the guy says, shaking his head as he holds out a hand. “I’m Jace. Jace Brocavich. I’m one of the grad students who sits in and speaks with Alastair for credits. You wouldn’t believe the stories he has about the two of you.”