Chasing Shadows (First Wives #3)(51)

“Why don’t you like the guy?”

Avery gripped her glass. “He has a strange affect. Like he watches and studies people. Then there is the fact that he asked me out.”

“You refused.”

“Of course I refused. I’m seeing Liam. Even if I wasn’t, the guy just gives me a weird vibe.”

Lori lifted a hand in the air and started clicking off facts one finger at a time. “So the guy likes you, asked you out, you turned him down, and then you show him these pictures. That does exactly what for your business relationship?”

Avery cringed. “Makes it even more uncomfortable. It forces intimate conversations about his family that I really want nothing to do with.”

“Right.” Lori dropped her hand and pulled her wine back to her lips. “This is a rock and a hard place. You want my advice?”

“God, yes.”

“You don’t tell anyone about the pictures. Finish the job. Once you’re off the payroll, you can give them to him. These kinds of things can be embarrassing even if the affair is decades old. It isn’t up to you to investigate the rightful heirs to Mr. and Mrs. Lankford’s estate.”

There was some relief in that route. “So do nothing.”

“For now.”

Avery sighed. “Thanks, Lori. I knew you’d have the answers.”

“Not all of them. I work with divorce, not this.”

The two of them sipped their wine in silence for a few seconds.

“Are you going to tell me about this haunting thing?”

Avery snapped her head toward her. “What?”

“You said the not knowing haunts you.”

Avery needed more wine for this. “You know it’s almost been a year.” She crossed to the kitchen, grabbed the bottle, and moved back to the living room.

“You’re thinking about what happened in New York. I’m guessing that’s normal.”

She refilled her glass, set the bottle down. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it. I’ll go down on the mat in krav and freeze. I think I see his face, something. Then it’s gone.”

“We’ll circle back to the krav thing in a minute. Although that does explain a few things. Why haven’t you told any of us this?”

Avery looked over her glass. “You were getting married. Trina was engaged and on cloud gazillion . . . and Shannon has her own demons to chase.”

“So we only get to be there for you when things are good? That’s not how friendship works.”

“If you haven’t noticed, I don’t foster too many friends. I suck at relationships. All of them.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. As Wade pointed out, you’re the blonde pit bull. You’re fiercely protective with your friends but won’t allow us inside to be there for you.”

Lori was right, but Avery didn’t want to admit it. “You guys know me better than anyone.”

That seemed to satisfy Lori. “I know. Don’t be afraid of talking to us. It’s why we formed the club to begin with.”

“We formed the First Wives to deal with dating after divorce. Somehow that has turned into a murdered husband, assaults, spies, and all kinds of soap opera drama.”

Lori refilled her glass. “Krav. Seriously, you’ve been taking krav?”

Avery found her smile. “Yeah. That gym I said I met Liam in . . . krav studio.”

“Why the secret?”

“Didn’t want anyone to worry about me.”

Lori narrowed her eyes, lips flat.

“Okay. Got it. I’ll try.”

“You do that.”





Chapter Twenty-One



For the first time in six months, Avery’s haunts woke her in the middle of the night.

Cold sweat, racing heart. She shot straight up in bed, screaming. Her hands went to her face, and she expected them to fall away soaked in blood.

The vividness of the recurring dream was palpable. She could smell the stench of cigarettes and asphalt. And blood. Her blood. She tasted the salt in the back of her throat and gagged.

The clock by her bedside flashed 2:20 a.m. She swung her legs off the bed and padded into her bathroom. She switched on the glaring light and turned the water on hot. When she looked in the mirror, she briefly saw the image of her face the first time she was allowed to look at it after the attack. The bandages covered nearly everything, her eye swollen shut, the other just a slit. No wonder she needed to use reading glasses a decade sooner than normal age would have suggested.

She peered closer to the mirror. Almost forgetting what her nose had looked like before the surgery to correct the break and stop the bleeding. Nothing had been wrong with her other nose. This one was smaller. The scar underneath was a little bigger than most since the bastard that had kicked it in shredded it with his boot. Razor sharp tread, like they were new. Work boots. She closed her eyes to capture the image. Pants. Not jeans. Tan pants, frayed at the bottom. Dirty with her blood splattered on the leg.

The vision vanished.

She opened her eyes. Her pale image stared back at her, hands gripping the sink as the water flowed down and steam filled the mirror. “Holy shit.” She remembered something.

Avery ran to her kitchen and yanked open her junk drawer to find a pen. She found a notepad and frantically scratched down her thoughts and images. What she’d smelled. Anything.