Fury on Fire (Devil's Rock #3)(45)

In fact, North hadn’t been home a lot. At least not when she might have bumped into him. His bike or truck was gone when she woke up every morning, and he was never around when she got home in the evenings. He never did reply to her apology text. It seemed like he had stopped caring about her. He certainly didn’t miss her anymore. Or if he did he had a funny way of showing it.

She was brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed when her phone rang from where it was charging on her nightstand. A quick glance revealed that it was Hale again. She sighed through the bubbly froth of her toothpaste.

Turning away, she let it go to voicemail. It was late. He’d just think she was already asleep. Or that she was ignoring him. Either way was fine.

She finished brushing her teeth, rinsed her mouth and headed downstairs to shut off all the lights. It was Friday night. She was going to bed by 10 p.m. This was her life. Brendan had texted her sporadically throughout the week. Nice texts telling her he was looking forward to their date next week. Nice. There was that word again.

North Callaghan was probably just getting started on his night. She imagined him with Serena or someone else and an uncomfortable knot formed in her throat.

She poured herself a glass of water. Standing in her darkened kitchen, she couldn’t help drifting over to the large window that faced the driveway.

So much for waiting for her to step across that proverbial line in the sand.

She guessed he was finished with her. Understandable, she supposed.

She knew all the dirt on him and he probably felt weird about it now. Through all their interactions, she had known he was a convicted murderer.

And she was the sheriff’s sister.

As an ex-con, he’d probably decided he didn’t need that aggravation. That certainly made sense. She should forget about him. She should. But she wanted to talk to him. Although when she imagined what she would say nothing came to her mind. She couldn’t tell him his past didn’t matter. That would be a lie. It would always matter. It mattered to him, clearly, but it was as he said. He didn’t owe her any explanation or defense. If he wanted an explanation as to why she had investigated his background, then she could offer none other than that she was nosy. A busybody just like her brother described half of the women of Sweet Hill.

She peered out between her blinds.

It shouldn’t bother her so much that he was not at home. She shouldn’t be peeking out the window like a stalker. She winced. That ship had already sailed. By definition, that’s what she was. Ugh. This was what she had become, how far she had descended.

She should not be wondering so much about where he was . . . what he was doing. Who he was doing.

Grimacing, she let the blinds snap back into place and forced herself away from the window and the hope of seeing him.

It was for the best.



She was the sheriff’s sister. For days this reeled through his mind. She was also the daughter of the man who’d come out to the farmhouse and cuffed him and Knox in front of their aunt and uncle. In front of Katie. Already traumatized Katie. Already broken. Sure, he was just doing his job, but Faith’s father was a part of that past North worked so hard to forget.

Now Faith was a part of it, too.

The past was like that. Never really gone. Always there to sneak up on you and tap you on the shoulder just when you thought you were getting over it.

North put in a lot of overtime at the shop for the rest of the week. His boss was only too happy to pay him. They had more work than they could handle as it was these days. He might have gotten some funny looks showing up Saturday, but the few guys working didn’t say anything.

Home was the last place he wanted to be, which actually infuriated him. Getting his own place had been a huge thing for him upon getting paroled. It had been his number one goal. A place where he could be by himself and have the privacy he never had at the Rock. Something that belonged to him. A refuge for him alone. Now that was wrecked because he was avoiding the woman living next door to him.

North usually protected his weekends. It was his time. He worked in his shop, fished, took runs out along forgotten paths where birds sang in the trees, indifferent to his intrusion. Sometimes he just drove out to the desert mountains to stare at the expanse of wilderness. Because he could. Because he wasn’t locked up in a cage anymore.

The nights were his, too. Those he spent in typical fashion. Exorcising his ghosts by pumping into some willing female body. Only lately, getting laid did not seem nearly so important. At least random hookups weren’t. His sex drive hadn’t diminished. No, he hadn’t lost interest in sex. He’d lost interest in indiscriminate sex.

Now, however, he had to ignore her. She was an itch he would have to leave unscratched. Knowing who she was had changed everything. Fucking her was out of the question. She was trouble. For two years he had managed to avoid trouble. He wouldn’t start looking for it now.

Hale Walters’s hard-eyed face flashed across his mind. This guy went to prison for murder, Faith.

The words were true—and accompanied with such a contemptuous look. It still stung . . . the way her brother had looked at him. The look, however, said it all. He thought North was a worthless piece of shit and he didn’t want such shit anywhere near his sister.

Her father had actually arrested him. He didn’t have a hell of a lot of scruples left, but he figured that made Faith Walters a bad choice as a potential f*ck buddy.