Beneath These Scars (Beneath #4)(55)

Not Yve’s place.

Relief came hard and fast until Hennessy added, “But the weird thing is that the lady whose apartment it was? She says she won the ticket to go visit her sister in a radio giveaway . . . from a station that doesn’t exist. No record of it. The ticket was couriered to her house the same day she won it and had to be used within forty-eight hours, which doesn’t sound like any radio giveaway I’ve ever heard of.”

“Hell no, it doesn’t.”

“What it sounds like is someone trying to make sure the place would be empty to potentially rig the stove and cause the explosion.”

“What about the other tenant? What did she have to say? Did she have any enemies?”

“From what I’ve been told, she worked at the postal service until she retired a couple months ago. Got bored and decided to take a job working third shift a couple weeks back. I need more time to dig, but from what she told me, she lives a pretty quiet life. So, the question is . . . what about Yve?”

“Have you started digging?”

“You know this isn’t my case, right? I’m just telling you what I’ve gotten from my contacts.”

“Come on, Hennessy. You can’t tell me you’re not curious now.”

“Sure I am, but I’ve got a ton of other shit on my desk that is my job that needs to get done today.”

“Fine. I’ll ask her myself.”

“Let me know what you find out.”

“Yeah, I will.”

We hung up, and I wondered if Yve would tell me any more than she’d told me last time, that night in my study after I’d found her in my pool.

Now that her life could have been the price, the time for bullshit answers had passed. This all felt way too planned, and Yve’s fear made her the most likely target.

I opened the door and crossed over to the bed. I’d let her sleep for a little longer, and then I would get some answers.

Even if I had to fight Yve herself, I would keep her safe. She didn’t need to know it, but she’d joined the small circle of people I’d kill to protect.




Jerome still hadn’t returned an hour later, and Yve hadn’t woken, but my patience to figure out what the hell had happened was wearing thin. I retrieved shorts and a T-shirt from my room and went back into the guest room.

I was still six feet from the bed when Yve’s eyes snapped open.

“I wonder if I’ll ever be able to sleep through any noise again,” she murmured, clearly talking to herself and not me. Sitting up, she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes before dropping them to her lap and meeting my stare.

“What?” she asked.

I crossed to the bed and held out the clothes. “Here. Put these on. We need to talk.”

Her expression shuttered immediately. “Can’t I just keep forgetting for a while?”

“Forgetting isn’t going to help us figure out who tried to kill you.”

All the ease that had remained in Yve’s body drained out instantly, and for a second I regretted it—but only a second.

I needed to keep her alive. That was my first priority here. She could hate me as long as she was still alive, and I’d be happy with that. For now.

She rolled to her side and snatched the clothes from me. Sitting up, she shook out the T-shirt and held it up. She’d be swimming in it, but it was the best I could do at the moment.

“They’ll work until Jerome finds you something else,” I said.

She slipped the shirt over her head, covering all of her gorgeous honey-colored skin. The shorts followed next.

Standing, Yve straightened her shoulders and faced me. “Don’t put Jerome to the trouble. I’ll take care of that myself.”

So damn stubborn.

“Do you ever let anyone help you, Yve?”





THE QUESTION HUNG IN THE air between us. Do you ever let anyone help you, Yve?

It wasn’t the first time Lucas had asked it. I’d let Elle help me the night I found out that Jay was getting paroled. Well, sort of. I hadn’t wanted to be alone that night, and she’d offered a place to stay. I’d been her boss once upon a time, even though we both knew she’d only worked the job because she needed something to do and not for the money.

“I feel like you’re the last person who should be judging me about this. When was the last time you accepted help? And by the way—why do you even want to help me? Again, you’re you. You’re not exactly the kind of guy who helps people like me.”

“And if I want to help you?”

I pointed to the clothes I wore. “I consider myself helped.”

“You have a plan?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

The man wouldn’t drop it. “Are you going to stay with your family?”

The word family never struck a particularly happy note in my heart. “No.”

“Friends?”

I’d already considered that. Charlie and Simon had room, but they were crazy into wedding planning right now. Elle and Lord lived in Lord’s little house not far from Chains, and they didn’t exactly have extra room. Vanessa and Con would probably offer, but that felt weird to me given my brief past history with Con before they’d gotten together.

And that was the end of my list of friends. Six of them. Seven, if I counted Levi, who lived here.