Page 170 of Craving Consequences
I push to my feet. “Fuck Brewer. Everly is mine and yours. She’s our person. She’s hurt, probably scared to death. She’s alone and she needs her men. So, get the hell up or I’ll drag you up.”
To my surprise, he does. He pushes his stool back and gets to his feet. His expression is still broken and defeated, but Iknow that will change once he sees Everly. I know the second he’s near her, he’ll forget all the stupid thoughts in his head. I just need to get him there.
I drive. Lachlan doesn’t stop me when I snatch his keys and climb in behind the wheel. He says nothing at all as I pull out of his driveway and start a very fast, mildly reckless drive to Everly’s house.
Her car isn’t in the driveway. The house itself is still and silent. Darkness presses out from the windows, seemingly vacant and abandoned in the settling late afternoon.
But it’s the small crowd of women clustered along her porch and walkway that give me pause.
“Fuck...” Lachlan mutters under his breath.
I share the sentiment. “Stay here,” I tell him as I push open my door.
He does not listen. He jumps down and joins me at the hood to face down the watchful eyes of the women judging him.
“Ladies,” I begin.
I am not at all surprised when Candace Ferguson steps forward. Beautiful and immaculate in her white trousers and loose, floral blouse, she’s the very definition of elegant. But her usually warm, brown eyes are hard chips of ice set deep at the center of her otherwise calm expression.
“Mr. Weaver. Mr. Shaw,” she barely gives Lachlan a fleeting glance. “What brings you here?”
I know she knows why we’re here. I’m not at all upset by the show of support or their protective instinct. I am annoyed that they’re standing between me and Everly.
“Just came to check on Everly,” I say, keeping my voice respectful and even.
She offers me the hint of a smile. “It’s been a long day for Miss Cavanaugh, as you can well imagine. Perhaps right now isn’t the best time.”
“Is she inside?” I press, ignoring her subtle dismissal.
The fine line of her chin tilts, cocking her head slightly to one side in a very clear,you’re not getting past megesture. “She’s resting.”
“We’re only here to make sure she’s okay,” I tell her, not feeling it’s her business, but understanding their cold shoulder.
“She isn’t,” Candace states smoothly. “She’s had a horrible ordeal that no one should have to face. Sheriff Brewer should have kept that boy behind bars after the first time he attacked her, but justice can be flawed. However, at this moment, I think it’s best if you and Mr. Shaw give Everly time.”
That isn’t going to happen.
I get the whole hierarchy of order. I get that they have Everly’s best interest at heart. I even applaud and respect their dedication to protecting her. But I haven’t seen her all day. It’s nearly sundown and I am not waiting for another day to hold her.
“With all due respect, ma’am, I am not leaving until I see Everly.”
Candace doesn’t move. She never so much as flinches. She stares straight into my eyes with all the warnings of a mama tigress prepared to rip my throat out.
“I think you misunderstand, Mr. Weaver. I am not asking you. I am telling you, you are not seeing her.”
I feel Lachlan’s hand on my arm. It makes me aware of the fingers curled at my sides that I quickly relax.
“Then you better call the sheriff, ma’am.”
Without waiting, I charge past her, past the stunned faces of Thelma and Florence. Maisie and Daisy. Even Dolores and her small cluster of busybodies. I shoulder up the front steps, glower down at Olive standing arms folded in front of the door, expression defiant.
“Move,” I warn her.
“She’s not home,” the girl mutters, still not moving.
I want to believe her, but I don’t. I raise a fist and beat into the door just over her head.
“Everly!” I call.
