Page 39 of Wrecked for Love (Buffaloberry Hill #1)

CLAIRE

It had been almost two weeks since the incident at The Willow, and life was inching back to normal—or as normal as it could be with Elia still playing chaperone and the constant unknown lurking in the background.

We both knew it wasn’t over. Armand Voss, that disgusting ass, was still alive.

Elia was certain of it, and so was I. He and his brother were hiding, waiting. Somewhere.

Today, I found myself at the hardware store with Annette.

The queen of local gossip, she was my best shot at figuring out if anyone had caught a whisper about Armand.

As much as I hoped she hadn’t—because a fifteen-year-old like her should never be tangled up in anything as dangerous as the Vosses—I needed to ask.

“The Vosses are exhausting!” Annette said, tossing her hands in the air.

“Just exhausting?” I questioned her choice of word.

“Okay, more than that.” She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping with the sharp awareness of someone who’d grown up knowing better. “They used to burn houses. Their enemies’ houses. Or beat the hell out of them.”

She flicked a glance around before continuing, “The sheriff’s tried to take them down, but they covered their tracks too well.

Now and then, they arrest someone—a small-time crook, the bottom rung.

But the Vosses? Untouchable. You know that feeling when everyone knows who the bad guy is, but there’s no proof? Yeah, that.”

It was easy to blame the sheriff, but Buffaloberry wasn’t exactly swimming in resources.

The sheriff himself was based in the county seat, miles away, leaving just a couple of deputies to keep an eye on things locally.

Even the NYPD struggled to stay ahead of crime in the city, so what chance did an understaffed rural outpost have against the Vosses?

Especially when those bastards had turned evasion into an art form.

Annette cleared her throat, then added, “These days, people just keep their heads down, say yes when they have to, and stay out of their way. That’s what I meant by exhausting.”

“Do you personally know any of them?”

“Hell no!” she replied, making a face like I’d asked her if she’d ever befriended a monster. “Though I heard they might’ve left town recently.”

So she had heard something. I knew she would.

“People actually saw them leaving?” I asked, keeping my voice as neutral as possible.

Annette shrugged dramatically. “No one’s seen them in a while, so that’s the theory. Before, you’d spot the Vosses skulking around, but lately? Ghost town. Maybe they finally made it big at Madison Square Garden.”

The mention of a New York landmark threw me. “Made it big as what?”

“Combat sports, obviously.” She smirked. “Though let’s be real, I doubt they have the kind of flair that gets you raving fans. No signature moves, no showmanship. Just general menace.”

“How did you know all this?”

“People know the Vosses are obsessed with combat culture. They tried to start something like that here. A fighting tournament called the Buffaloberry Rumble.” She rolled her eyes.

“It was all legal. Everyone knew about it. But it never took off. Turns out, watching two guys throw haymakers behind the feed store isn’t exactly high entertainment.

Even the Gladiator movies weren’t that popular here. ”

I chuckled at her deadpan delivery. “I doubt they left town to chase stardom.”

“I suppose not.” She sighed. Maybe they’re just taking a holiday like everyone else…except, well, we don’t. At least, I don’t!”

“That’s because you’re the good one, helping your folks out. When that year-end bonus and double holiday pay kick in, you’ll be glad you didn’t take time off.”

She nodded absentmindedly, then jerked upright. “Wait, what? Double pay?”

“Well, yeah, you get paid double for holiday shifts, right?”

“Damn! My dad’s been holding out on me!” she exclaimed.

I shot her an “oops” face. Maybe I shouldn’t have let that slip.

“I’m going to ask him about that!” she said before circling back to the original topic. “But seriously, Claire, why are you so interested in the Vosses?”

I leaned on the counter. “You’ve gotta know the bad guys if you want to really know the town, right? Just being nosy.”

Annette let out a laugh. “Well, I’ve told you all the good things about this place. You should stick to that. Why go digging into the sordid stuff? Most of it’s just rumors, anyway.”

“Like my house being haunted?” I teased. Even though I had officially moved out of The Willow, I continued to rent it, not wanting to alert the town to any sudden changes.

Annette’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “Exactly! See, you get it. Stick with the good. The sordid stuff will just drag you down.”

For her, I agreed. But deep down, I wasn’t sure if we could afford to stick with the good, not with Armand and Lucien still out there.

Suddenly, a cramp coiled in my belly, sharp and unexpected. I winced, my hand instinctively going to my midriff.

“Hey, you okay?” Annette asked, noticing right away. She moved to my side, her eyes filled with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” I brushed it off, though I wasn’t convinced myself.

“You look…kinda pale,” she said carefully, like she didn’t want to worry me, but I could tell from her expression that I must’ve looked worse than I felt.

“Go home, Claire,” she urged, her tone more insistent this time.

I hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, maybe I will.”

I cut my day short and headed back to The Lazy Moose. As soon as I arrived, the sound of rhythmic thuds caught my attention. It didn’t take long to figure out it was Elia—boxing. That was unusual. I walked toward the barn and found him going at the punching bag like it had personally wronged him.

“Since when did this become a thing?” I queried, stepping closer.

Elia wiped the sweat from his brow, throwing me a quick grin. “Bag’s been collecting dust. Figured it was time to put it to use. Gotta stay fit through winter.”

“Are you kidding?” I ran my hand along the hard line of his biceps, my fingers trailing down to his solid abs. “You’re more than fit.”

He chuckled and caught my wrist before I could distract him any further. “You’re home early.”

“Uh, yeah,” I replied, thinking fast. “Short shift. Deliveries got pushed to tomorrow.” The lie slipped out easily. In truth, the cramping had vanished as quickly as it came.

He headed inside to get changed, and that’s when I noticed the huge bruise around his ankle.

“Elia! What the hell?”

He froze, clearly not expecting me to catch sight of those nasty injuries.

“It’s nothing.”

“Those are not nothing!”

He sighed, his words reluctant. “Saddle came loose. I fell.”

“Jesus, Elia! Let me see! What else?—”

He cut me off with a shush and showed me the rest of his body. No other injuries—thank heaven.

“Hey, come on. I’ve fallen off a horse more times than you’ve said ‘Central Park.’”

I couldn’t help but laugh, though I tried to stay annoyed. “I’m not sure I’m loving this version of Elia.”

“Oh yeah?” He pinched my ass.

“Mmhmm. Cheesy! Like New York sausages,” I remarked. “What were you even doing on horseback? Isn’t it time to stay put? It’s fifteen degrees out there.”

“Ranchers don’t stay put, Chili,” he said, shaking his head. “Had to check the fence. The east ridge has seen some dodgy visitors lately. And I don’t think a little snow’s gonna stop them from trying their luck.”

Before I could get another word out—likely a warning for him to be careful—he hoisted me over his shoulder, and I giggled all the way to the house. Hank and the boys, including the newbie, Fritzy, grumbled something as we passed. They were either used to our antics or downright sick of them by now.

Elia settled me on the couch and sat beside me. “Rough day at the store? You look a bit worn out.”

I brushed his concern away with a touch to his cheek. He wasn’t wrong, but my tiredness wasn’t bothering me at the moment. A thought bubbled up. I wasn’t sure where it came from, but the need to share it with Elia was undeniable.

“I’ve been thinking. I don’t know when or how I’ll ever go back to New York—” I said, my voice trailing off.

“Claire, you promised to stay here.”

“I know, I’m staying, but—” I lowered my head. “I need to find where Cody’s buried. Since the night he died, I can’t even look at his photo. I don’t even have one.”

Elia shifted closer. “We’ll find his resting place. But for now, we need to keep you safe. Give it some time, and we’ll plan from there.”

I took a deep breath. Going back to New York would be suicide, and I knew it. His advice was probably the best option now—one step at a time.

“You’re right. I’m fine with putting it on hold. It was just a passing thought. One of those moments, you know.”

“I get it.” He brushed his fingers across my forehead. “Hey, how about takeout tonight?” He glanced toward the fridge with a complete lack of enthusiasm. Neither of us had managed to grocery shop this week.

“Good idea!”

“What do you feel like?” he asked, turning to face me.

“Pizza?”

“Sure! We’re overdue for that, aren’t we?”

As he placed the order, nausea blindsided me. Hardly my usual reaction to pizza.

I didn’t want to alarm him, so I stood up as casually as I could and made my way to the bathroom in quick but subtle steps. Once inside, I barely made it to the sink before throwing up. Great. I really hoped pizza wouldn’t be ruined because of this.