Water’s Edge (A Series of Sharp Edges #1)

21. Mattie

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

mattie

T he Foxfire back door feels like it weighs a thousand pounds as I drag it open. Electricity sizzles through every nerve, and I let out a shaky exhale. I need to get my shit together before I make my presence known. My stranger is right—I still hold all the power over my fate. I just have to not fuck it up. A warm rough hand wraps around my elbow, and I about jump out of my skin. “Shit, Wiley. You scared me.”

“There’s no boogers in here, darlin’,” Wiley chuckles. His deep voice sends waves of calm through my nervous system. My wide eyes relax and take him in. I’ve always suspected he could see through the mask I put on each time I step through the door. “Whatever you’re going through, girl, this too shall pass. You cain’t keep a bird from flyin’ over your head, but you can keep it from buildin’ a nest.” With those words, he gives my elbow a squeeze and heads off to the front. He’s mostly right, except I can keep that bird from flying over me if I get rid of it.

I roll my head around in a circle, roll my shoulders back, and shake out my arms. I can do this. I’ve come back to the bar more than once after a kill. I can face whatever is out there waiting for me. I’ve done this act before, and I can do it again. I blow out one last breath through my teeth and head out to the bar.

The night’s already in full swing. The jukebox is blasting some old outlaw country song. Tally is busy as a bee, sliding drinks across the surprisingly busy bar top. Before I can even take it all in, I feel a heavy gaze lock onto me. The sheriff is sitting on a corner stool, his dull brown eyes already glazed with an empty glass in front of him. I try to look busy and head to the other end, but I see him raise two fingers at me from the corner of my eye.

Shit .

My mouth strains at the corners as I plaster on my biggest smile. “What can I get ya?” I push out my hip and lean into the back of the bar. Should I try to oversell it, flip my ponytail and bat my eyelashes like I’ve seen Tally do? I’d probably end up looking like a pig wearing lipstick if I tried. My thoughts race, and I realize his mouth is moving, but I haven’t heard a single word. Noncommittally, I mumble out a hum, hoping like hell he will repeat himself.

“I said I was drinking beer, but now that you’re here, I think I’ll switch to bourbon,” the sheriff drawls out in lazy, half-drunk words. He taps the empty beer glass in front of him for emphasis with a smirk.

“We don’t have anythin’ fancy, but I’ll pour ya the best we got,” I say, swiping up the glass and heading to the wall of bottles behind me. I try to keep my voice sweet, but the effort of it has the glass slipping on my sweaty palms.

Tally strides up next to me, bumping me with her hip and tossing her head behind her. “That him?” Her eyebrows dance, and she sashays away again, giggling to herself. If only the ground would open up and swallow me right now, it would be a kinder fate than working the rest of this shift.

I fill the glass until it’s half-full of amber liquid. Maybe if I keep pouring with a heavy hand, I can make our interaction less painful. The sheriff smiles and swirls the glass, examining it as though I might try to poison him. It’s not such a bad idea. Uneasiness settles in the pit of my stomach as he locks eyes with me and pulls the glass to his mouth. He smacks his lips after he swallows, and I fight back the bile in the back of my throat.

“So, Miss Gibson.” How the fuck does this guy know my last name? “How long have you been working here?”

I force a smile and lean back against the counter behind me. “For a good spell.” I need to keep my answers short but friendly.

“I see,” he says, taking a slow sip of bourbon. “Not a lot of people know you.”

Okay, I’m not sure how to take that. No, a lot of people don’t know me. Even fewer know I kill men and then dump them in the lake behind my cabin. Shit, I can’t say that, so instead, I shrug. “I don’t suppose I know a lot of people.”

He puffs his chest out with a laugh and raises an eyebrow at me. “I’d like to get to know you. Why don’t you take a break and come take a seat?” He leans to the side with a slight wobble and pats the stool next to him.

Panic and anger flood my body simultaneously. I can’t tell if he’s hitting on me or trying to interrogate me, but either way, I’m not about to sit next to him. I shake my head and laugh. Any inclination to continue to indulge his questions is long gone. “Let me know when you’re ready for another,” I laugh, whipping out my bar towel towards his glass.

The sheriff’s lean frame stiffens, and short, hard bursts of air come from his flared nostrils. Untamed strands of dirty blond hair are sticking to his forehead that’s now slick with drunken sweat. A perverse smile spreads across his face. “You don’t think I’ve looked into you? You don’t think I know exactly who you are? I’m the sheriff of this damn county, and I’ve got your number.”

My back stiffens, and I turn to look at him over my shoulder. “If you’re lookin’ to start a ruckus, Sheriff, then you can take your ass out of here, same as everyone else.” My cheeks burn, and my jaw clenches until my teeth crack together.

“I know who your piece of shit father was and all about that little cult he was headin’ out in the woods. By the looks of it, the apple didn’t fall far from that tree. No wonder your ma went out the way she did.” He snorts into his glass before finishing his drink, then slams it down on the bar.

Fire fills my veins, and my fingers twitch as my hands start to tingle. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes, only pissing me off more. He wants me to react and give him a reason to haul me out of here. “Keep my ma out of your fucking mouth,” I sneer through my teeth.

“Listen, you little bitch. You can either come sit your pretty ass down next to me and have a decent night, or I can throw you in cuffs right now and drag you out of here.” He traces his finger around the rim of his glass and smiles. “Either option is just fine by me.”

Every muscle in my body winds so tightly, I begin to shake. I suck my bottom lip through my teeth, willing myself to have the control to not gut this man right here in front of god and everyone. Before I can make my next move, Wiley appears like a guardian angel behind the sheriff. “Now, boy, I think you’ve had about enough. Why don’t I call someone to git you home, huh?”

Wiley’s weathered hand comes down firm on the sheriff’s shoulder. His eyes narrow towards me with a jerk of his head towards the door leading to the back. The message is loud and clear. I hurry towards the back and don’t take a breath again until I’m in the safety of solitude in the bar’s small kitchen. My heart is pounding hard enough to break a rib as my body finally catches up to the events that just occurred. What the fuck just happened out there?