Chapter 2: River Escapes and Reckless Lies

My head felt like it’d been hit with a hammer. Buzz! Panic started to rise in my chest.

Crap! Why is Carter Vance here?

Half the whiskey’s effect vanished instantly. My hands went cold.

There are thousands of fine whiskeys in the world, but I don’t want to die here. Figures—my luck.

To save my skin, I suddenly jumped up and let out a shrill scream. My chair scraped the floor.

All eyes on me. Everyone in the bar looked over.

I threw myself at Carter, almost knocking him and his stool over.

It happened so fast, he didn’t dodge. Guess I caught him off guard for once.

With red eyes, I wailed at him, tears welling up—real or fake, even I wasn’t sure:

“Honey!”

His body stiffened, and he reached for something at his chest. I braced myself.

I thought, oh no, and with a yank, tore open his front, scattering little bottles everywhere, shouting and making a scene so nobody would think twice about us.

“You heartless man, leaving your new bride at home to run around with some floozy!” I played it up for the crowd, really laying it on thick.

As I yelled, I tugged at his clothes and pounded him with my fists, acting like a hysterical, wronged woman. I let my voice rise and fall, hoping the drama would distract everyone.

His chest was totally exposed; if I’d had a knife, ending him would’ve been easy. Not that I’d do it in public, but the thought crossed my mind. Ha.

“You!”

Through the mask, I saw confusion in his eyes, but even more murderous intent. My nerves were shot, but I kept up the act.

Ha, I’m not so easily scared!

“I want to see what marks that southern floozy left on you!” I shrieked, going all in on the performance.

My shrieking echoed through the bar, bouncing off the walls. The air was thick with tension and cheap perfume.

I was threatening him: if he killed me here, I’d make sure to expose his identity before I died. Blackwater Lodge already had a bad reputation; if one of their folks killed someone in public, everyone in the underground would want his head. No way he’d risk it.

“Fine! Look, look, the floozy’s mark is so obvious!” I taunted, my voice mocking.

“Honey, you still want to deny it? Huh?”

When he chased me before, I’d slashed his chest—now there was only a faint red mark, looking just like a woman’s scratch. I made sure everyone saw.

Every word I said was full of tears and grievance—or at least, I tried to make it sound that way. I was really putting on a show.

The other drinkers looked at him differently now, full of contempt. I could feel the sneers and whispers in the air.

Carter couldn’t take it anymore, about to draw his knife. The tension was so thick you could slice it.

I gripped his knife hilt with all my strength, knuckles turning white. My face went pale, using every ounce of inner strength I had to keep the act up.

“If my man is unfaithful, there’s no point in living!” I wailed, melodramatic as a soap opera.

I laughed crazily, tears soaking my clothes. For a second, I wondered if I’d finally lost my mind.

“Might as well die together!”

I dragged him toward the window, slapping his chest for all to see, hamming it up for the audience.

Just as we were about to fall into the river, I kicked off his body and, thanks to my decent parkour skills, landed back on shore. My heart was pounding, but I stuck the landing like a pro.

Carter got kicked into the river.

I ran for my life.

Leaving behind a bar full of stunned drinkers and the heir of Blackwater Lodge, pale and furious in the water. I couldn’t help but smirk. That’s what he gets for chasing me over a bowl of bugs.

Who told him to chase me over a bowl of bugs?

I can’t beat him, but my escape skills are top-notch. Not to brag, but I’m the Houdini of the bayou.

When I was a kid, Dad taught me that the most precious things in life are whiskey and life. Everything else is just an illusion. That lesson stuck with me, maybe more than anything else.

Later, the old man passed away. It still stings, even now.

Leaving behind Noah, who treasures his life and fears death. He’s always been the cautious one.

Leaving behind me, Jolene, who’s crazy about whiskey.

So for me, what’s dignity worth?

Besides, Carter still doesn’t know who I am. I’ve got that going for me. For now.

The years of friendship with my big brother only bought me three days and nights of rest on Pine Hollow before he told me to get lost. Not even a full week.

Before I left, he gave me a couple hundred bucks for travel expenses. Not much, but it was something.

Hmph, at least he has some conscience. I’ll give him that.

The world is vast—where’s the farthest place from the Louisiana bayou? I pulled out a map in my mind, tracing the lines as far as they’d go.

The capital, of course!

If I can’t win, at least I can hide. I let out a sigh, resigned to my fate.

So I hurried off to Washington, D.C. Caught a bus, then a train, then another bus—anything to put distance between me and Carter Vance.

The whole way, I was sneaky and cautious, like a fugitive. My nerves were shot, sweat sticking to my back, always glancing over my shoulder.

Luckily, I didn’t run into Carter, that killer. I breathed easier with every mile.

After arriving safely in the capital, I realized I was broke. The cash was gone. All spent on whiskey. Typical me.

To avoid starving, I stood in front of a restaurant, lost in thought. Actually, it was because their whiskey smelled so good I was drooling. My stomach growled so loud, I thought folks would stare.

The restaurant was called Skyview Grill, elegantly decorated. There was a notice posted at the door—they were hiring a cook. Good pay, room and board included. Fancy place, too. I wondered if I could ever fit in.

I tore down the notice and went in to find the manager.

The capital’s so busy, even dumping trash is a job people fight over. If you’re late, you won’t even get the freshest leftovers. That’s how tough things are.

Dumping trash isn’t a big deal. But Noah would say I’ve lost all of Dad’s dignity. I could almost hear his voice in my head, scolding me with that old, tired sigh.

...

The manager saw me—a dirty little girl—and his face soured, ready to kick me out. I could feel his eyes crawling over my muddy clothes.

Damn it!

I put my knife to his neck. Quick and quiet.

The manager immediately changed his tune. His eyes went wide, voice shaking.

“Spare me, ma’am! Spare me!”

Why would I kill you? You’re my future boss. I grinned, letting the blade drop.

After I explained myself again, the manager asked cautiously, half-believing, “So, what dishes can you cook, miss?”

“A lot.”

“Fried grasshoppers, fried crawfish, fried spiders, fried centipedes…” I rattled off, watching his face turn greener by the second.

Seeing the manager’s face turn ashen, I quickly added, “Those are just my specialties—I can learn other dishes!” I tried to sound hopeful, maybe even a little desperate.

And so, I had a place to stay in the capital. Working in the kitchen, I barely had to go out, hiding in plain sight. I didn’t believe Carter could find me. I could finally breathe easy. Or so I thought.

...

On my day off, I swiped a jug of Kentucky bourbon, leaned on the second-floor railing, and listened to Old Man Wyatt tell stories. The scent of bourbon mixed with the sound of laughter below, making the place feel almost like home.

His tales are always fresh, and Skyview Grill’s guests love them. The tips he gets make his granddaughter, who plays guitar, very happy. Sometimes I wish I could just listen to stories and never worry again.

“Bayou hoodoo bugs—there are so many kinds. Even the people of Blackwater Lodge can’t say they know them all…” Old Man Wyatt’s voice carried through the room, everyone leaning in to listen.

At the mention of Blackwater Lodge, the crowd’s whispers grew louder. The air buzzed with gossip and curiosity.

Tch, what’s so great about them?

I survived being hunted by their heir! If anyone’s impressive, it’s me. I puffed up a little, feeling smug.

Seeing the crowd’s excitement, Old Man Wyatt waited a bit, then continued, drawing out the suspense.

“All hoodoo masters raise a life bug. Its poison is strange and hard to guard against. Snake bugs, golden silkworms—everyone’s heard of those. But today, let me tell you about a rare one.”

“This bug is called Destiny Beetle. It feeds on the host’s blood, isn’t poisonous, but its effect is unique in the world.” He paused, letting the crowd hang on every word.

Interesting. I wonder if Carter has one. I bet he does, knowing his luck.

That guy wears a mask all day, cold, petty, vengeful, and violent. Any girl who falls for him must have something wrong with her head. I snorted to myself.