The villa was tucked away at the very end of the drive. Erin Lowell had been here once before. The night was still, the sound of the wind floating around them. She walked slowly, and Zane Jennings followed about a yard behind.
When they reached the door, Erin Lowell punched in the code. She turned and saw him gazing out into the night. "Come on in."
Zane finally looked away from the darkness, a half-joking smile on his face. "Is there anything in there I'm not supposed to see?"
'He figured a girl's home was private territory.'
Erin Lowell flipped on all the lights and stood in the doorway, a faint smile touching her lips. "Or would you rather I treat your wound while you stand out there?"
Zane Jennings immediately stepped inside. "I won't snoop."
The room was spacious, with large sofas. His wrist was covered in blood, and he wasn't sure if he'd gotten any on his clothes. Afraid of staining the sofa, he picked a chair to the side and sat down.
Erin Lowell closed the door. Just then, the phone in her pocket, which had been silent until now, suddenly rang.
She pulled out her phone and glanced at the screen. "Hang on a second," she said to Zane Jennings. "I'm going to get the first-aid kit."
"Okay."
The first-aid kit was upstairs. Erin had planned to ignore the call until after she'd treated Zane's wound, but the person on the other end was persistent. This was the fourth time they'd called.
Erin answered, putting the call on speaker. She set the phone on a nearby counter while she got out the antiseptic. "I'm fine," she said. "I got away."
"Erin, how many times have I told you? You are not to go rushing into danger by yourself. If there's something you want to know, I'll investigate it for you."
The voice on the other end was urgent, bordering on frantic.
"Ian Sheffield," Erin said, placing antiseptic and bandages onto a tray. She added a couple of adhesive bandages as well. "You were late today."
A silence fell over the other end of the line.
Erin chuckled. "So easy to tease." She finished arranging the supplies, then walked to the sink to wash the dried blood from her hands. Her tone was light. "Good thing I'm a fast runner. I got away."
What a relief.
This was Ian Sheffield's greatest fear. She had a gentle nature, but when it came to *that* matter, she was unflinching. She would charge ahead, no matter how difficult the path.
She wanted to find the killer. She wanted revenge.
Because of this reckless, almost suicidal, determination, he had no intention of letting her find the truth.
Hearing this, Ian Sheffield let out a breath he'd been holding. "Are you hurt?" he asked.
She was completely unharmed. "No."
He said, "If you need a bandage, it counts as being hurt."
"I'm not hurt." Erin pursed her lips, then said suddenly, "I met someone... a good person. He saved me. He's Chinese, like us."
The voice on the other end paused for a beat. "And then?"
"He got hurt."
Her personality was usually cool. She didn't laugh much, and she certainly wouldn't speak in such a stop-and-start way, her tone tinged with amusement and coyness. Ian Sheffield frowned. "A man or a woman?"
Erin didn't answer, asking a different question instead. "How should I thank him?"
Ian was silent for a long moment. "Use your own judgment. But you're in a foreign country. Don't get too close to anyone."
"Okay," she said. "I'm hanging up."
"Your flight is at noon tomorrow. I'll come get you."
"Okay."
Erin carried the tray out. At the top of the second-floor landing, the man stood tall and lean. His messy, dark hair fell across his brow. He was the ruggedly handsome type, with a wild streak to him.
The intimidating air he'd had at first was gone. He leaned against the railing, his posture casual and relaxed. He smiled, openly admitting he'd overheard her conversation. "I'm not a good person."
"Hm?"
"It's nothing." Zane Jennings walked over and took the tray from her. "And don't worry about how to thank me. I'm not interested in anything material."
With that, he headed downstairs.
Erin paused for a moment before following him down.
Zane's wound was on his wrist, a clean cut that thankfully wasn't too deep. After cleaning it, she applied a layer of antiseptic. While waiting for it to dry, she started to stand up—
He caught her hand.
Erin looked up.
Zane leaned in, his gaze fixed on her eyes for a long moment. Not finding what he was looking for, he straightened up. He seemed reluctant, but out of courtesy, he released her hand. "Do you really not remember me?"
"I don't think we've ever met." Her lashes fluttered as she suppressed the sudden jolt of alarm, her tone firm.
He gave her a roguish grin, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. "Are you some kind of heartbreaker? Already forgotten your promises?"
"A romantic debt?" she asked, growing more confused, her brow furrowing. "Are you sure you haven't mistaken me for someone else?"
'She'd never even been in a relationship, so how could she be a heartbreaker?'
"Maybe," Zane said, dropping the subject. He had been about to press her further, but he'd noticed she didn't like it and decided to back off a little.
The antiseptic had dried. Erin began to wrap his wrist with gauze. Her movements were professional and deft, each step clean and efficient. "Don't get this wet for the next two days. If the gauze gets soaked, go to a clinic to have it changed."
She gave him a few more instructions, dutifully, like a doctor with a patient.
Zane Jennings lifted his bandaged wrist. "Will this leave a scar?"
Erin told him the truth. "It will probably take a very long time to fade."
'In truth, he didn't really care. It wasn't a big deal for a man to have a few scars, and he already had plenty. What was one more?'
But he saw how tense she looked and couldn't resist teasing her. "See? The very first time we meet, and you've already left a mark on me that might last a lifetime."
Erin: "..."
She stood up, touching the tip of her nose, and began to clear away the used supplies. "It's late." She added, a bit more pointedly, "You should get some rest, too."
Zane didn't push his luck. "Can I come see you tomorrow?"
"What for?"
"To change the dressing."
Zane stood in the doorway, looking at her. Erin stood just inside. Outside, the trees were silhouetted against the moonlight, dappling the ground in patterns that looked like fallen stars. A breeze rustled the leaves, making the shadows dance.
Erin felt flustered under his gaze, her heart giving a little tremor. She simply went along with it. "Okay."
Without a backward glance, Zane turned and walked away. Outside, light and shadow flickered across his form. As a streetlight passed over his profile, it illuminated the smirk playing on his lips.
A cool breeze swept past, carrying a scent like wine on the air—intoxicating.
Four years ago, they had a chance encounter on Mount Valerius. She'd said she loved autumn in Brindleton and that she wanted to come back every year. He, accustomed to his freewheeling life, had suddenly insisted on making a pact with her: if they were both free next year, they would watch the Brindleton autumn together again. She, perhaps feeling a bit put on the spot, had casually agreed.
The first year, after waiting day after day, he came. She didn't.
The second year, he came. She didn't.
The third year, he came. She still didn't. By then, he knew she probably hadn't taken their pact seriously.
This year, he had resolved not to come to Brindleton at all. But business brought him back. He had been ready to finally forget their casual promise when, as if by fate, she delivered herself right to him.
Erin finished cleaning up and cooked herself a bowl of noodles. She had just sat down when the front door was pushed open and a woman bundled up in layers of clothing stumbled in.
"You're back."
"Yeah."
Jocelyn Lawrence had just gotten off set and was so tired she could barely lift her arms. She kicked her shoes off haphazardly. Her hair was a mess, probably from wearing a wig. She flopped onto the sofa and lay there, completely still, muttering curses under her breath.
"Aidan Lawrence is a dog."
"Aidan Lawrence is a little dog."
"Aidan Lawrence is a big dog."
"..."
Erin was perched on a chair, eating her noodles. After a couple of bites, she felt antsy, so she went to the fridge, grabbed two cans of beer, and returned to her perch to drink. "You'd better hope your anti-fans never see you like this."