Page 17 of Beau

Beau met her gaze across the console. “I want you to get into the driver’s seat as soon as I close the door. If I’m not back in three minutes, drive to the sheriff’s office in town for help.”

“You’re scaring me,” Aurelie said, her voice shaking. “If you think someone might be inside my house, come with me to the sheriff’s office. Let them handle it.”

“Driver’s seat.” He closed the door and waited for a second before saying loud enough she could hear through the glass. “Now.”

Aurelie scrambled across the console, banged her knee on the steering wheel and let out a string of curses as she watched Beau circle around to the back of the house.

Her pulse hammered through her veins as she counted the seconds for the first minute. Then, the second minute. She’d made it halfway through the third minute when Beau emerged from the front door and waved for her to join him.

She flung open the door and dropped to the ground. Her knees shook so much she nearly collapsed. Then, she was running toward Beau. When she reached him, she hurled herself into his arms. “That was the longest two and a half minutes of my life. What took you so long?”

He held her for a moment, his cheek pressed to her temple. “You can’t stay here tonight.”

She leaned back and stared up into his face. “Why?”

He stepped back and pushed the door wide with the barrel of his handgun.

She stepped across the threshold, and her heart plunged to the pit of her belly.

Every piece of furniture she’d so lovingly selected for her little house was either shredded or broken, undeniably destroyed beyond any chance of fixing.

But worse...the red spray-painted letters on the walls made Aurelie shake with a combination of residual fear after being thrown in the bayou and white-hot, blinding rage.

DIE BITCH.

CHAPTER 4

“Come on. You can’t stay here.” Beau gripped Aurelie’s arm and urged her toward the door.

“This is my house.” She shook free of his hand and stared at the destruction, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “How could someone do this?”

“I don’t know. There’s plenty of trouble in this world without making more here at home.” He touched her arm. “We need to report this to the sheriff.”

“Damn right, we do.” She reached for a photo frame lying on the floor, the glass broken, but the picture still intact.

He stopped her before she could pick it up. “Don’t touch anything,” he said. “They’ll want to dust for fingerprints. Maybe they can find a match in the criminal databases.”

She stared at the photograph. “We took that picture of the three of us on our last vacation together before my mother died.” Her fists clenched at her sides as she drew in several ragged breaths. “Bastard!”

“Since neither of us have functioning cell phones, we have to go to the sheriff’s office.” When she didn’t move, Beau added, “I’m not leaving you here. You have to come with me.”

“Okay.” She drew in another breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t suppose I can grab some toiletries and clothes?” She shook her head even as she said the words. “Yeah. Probably not. Leave it as is and let the sheriff sort through the evidence.”

She spun on her booted heels and marched out the door without looking back.

Beau followed, using his foot to pull the door closed behind him, not wanting to touch the doorknob in case a print could be lifted off its surface.

Aurelie climbed up into the passenger seat of his pickup, her face set in stone, a muscle ticking in her jaw. “Bastard!” she muttered again. “I hope he burns in hell.”

Beau slid into the driver’s seat, backed out of the driveway and onto the street. After one last glance, he drove to the sheriff’s office in Bayou Miste. They spent the next hour with a deputy reporting the incident, giving their fingerprints and filling him in on everything that had led up to the break-in.

By the time they were done, Aurelie’s shoulders were drooping, and shadows had formed beneath her eyes.

Once they were back in his truck, Beau shifted into drive and headed out of Bayou Miste.

“I don’t even have my purse. It’s in my father’s car,” Aurelie said. “No phone. No credit cards. No house.” Tears welled and spilled down her cheeks. With an angry swipe of her hand, she brushed them away, her lips pressing into a thin line. “I guess I could go stay with my father. God, he’s going to be horrified and insist I move back in with him permanently.” She pushed her hand through her hair. “I love my father, but I want a life of my own.”

“It’s getting late,” Beau said. “You can stay at my place for the night. We can figure things out in the morning.”