Chapter 29 | THE RETURN OF JANE SMITH AND INTIMIDATED SILENCE

I lock eye(s) with him as soon as he enters the place.

"Thor!" I smile brightly. "Hi!"

He lets the door shut behind him as he stands right in front of it and frowns, looking intently at my face. "I don't know who you are."

Oh. That's right.

"I'm Mikaere, we met like a week go. I'm John Agner's niece."

His eye widens. "Still don't remember you, but how could I forget your uncle? Good friend! I lost my eye when I went looking for him."

I nod, "Yeah, that's what you told me."

"Really? What else did I tell you?"

"How you got bombarded with ravens and arrows only to lose your eye to a twig."

He nods, looking a bit uncomfortable all of a sudden. I notice his eye flickers back and forth between me, the floor, and Luna, and his cheeks are soon a deeper shade of red than before. Luna doesn't even notice him, though, as she checks things off on a list.

Well, that's my cue to leave.

Before I can ask Thor to move, though, the dark wooden store door tries to open. But, since Thor's still right in front of the door, it just swiftly hits him.

I expect to hear an apology of some sort come through the door when Thor goes, "Oof!" and moves back; however, there is only silence.

And, that gives me a heads up as to who has also decided to show up.

He steps through the door fully this time, eyes moving from me to Thor to Luna, who is suddenly trying to disappear towards the back room.

And then it's just us three as he moves to stand away from the door, eyes focusing solely on Thor now.

The air is tense, and I recall how Thor talked about the arrows being shot at him out of nowhere. The ones that led to him running into that twig...which then caused him to lose an eye...

And then I recall how Vaughn justified scaring the people away with arrows by saying that the people were only there for him.

I really should leave.

"Thornson."

"Westergaard."

I roll my eyes slightly at the greeting as my arms grow heavy from holding the bags. And, to make things worse, I can't even escape because I'm trapped between a large bookshelf and Thor.

Could they maybe hurry it up or something? I'm tired.

"Mikaere..."

I look at Thor. "Yeah?"

"You should stay away from this man. He's dangerous."

Before I even have time to process those words, Vaughn raises his eyebrows slightly and says, "Ironic, coming from the man who helped Matthias."

His voice remains steady, but his tone is slightly biting. His facial expression seems passive, for the most part, but his eyes show that he's at least a bit pissed off.

"Thor, why is he dangerous?" My curiosity asks before he can respond to Vaughn.

"He shoots arrows at people. Isn't that enough?"

Oh. Well, I kind of already knew that...and for some reason accepted it.

I look at Vaughn, but he keeps his gaze steady on Thor.

"I've never hit any," Vaughn says, sounding uninterested, and immediately the other man asks: "Your aim's really that bad?"

Vaughn tilts his head to the side slightly. "Contrary to that little narrative you've made up, I'm not some sociopath. I'm not attempting to hit any."

Thor nods condescendingly. "Get out."

Vaughn lifts an almost amused eyebrow, "No."

Thor clearly wasn't expecting to be told that, so there's silence for a few moments as they stare back and forth at each other.

Vaughn's got two inches on Thor, but the latter is bulkier and more heavyset. Either way, I don't want to be near them right now.

In the end, Thor looks away first and turns to look at me.

No! Keep me out of this!

"You don't care that he shoots arrows at people?"

I yawn, despite not feeling tired or necessarily stressed. "I...don't really care to think about it right now."

"I'm just trying to watch out for you, Mikaere."

I glance up at him weirdly. "...Why though? You didn't even remember who I was until like ten minutes ago."

"Your uncle was a good friend."

I raise an eyebrow. "Then how come my uncle never mentioned you?"

He doesn't say anything.

So, I do, even though I'm still confused and don't know what I'm doing. "Well, I appreciate you 'watching out for me,' but I can watch out for myself. Also, I'm leaving now."

Looking a bit confused, he steps out of my way, and I grip my bags before walking past Vaughn and out the door, avoiding making any eye contact.

As I step out, the air immediately begins to freeze my face. Walking back to the tavern, I notice there are a few other people on the street who all turn to watch as I walk by.

I try my best to ignore their stares. But, after a while, I get tired of it and decide to lift my head and meet their gazes head-on. And, when they see that I'm not going to look away, they do.

By the time I get back to the tavern, there are even more vehicles in the parking lot. After scanning for Roan's truck, I walk inside after making sure it's not there.

Much like the street, I first ignore all of the people in the room as I immediately head upstairs.

After bulky winter clothes are off and everything except for the snacks are stuffed in my bag, I'm laying on the marvelous bed like ferromagnetic material to a magnet.

Closing my eyes, I revel in the peace I currently feel at the moment. The faint sounds of voices below fade from my mind as every part of me starts to relax, and I suddenly feel very exhausted.

Next thing I know, I'm waking up after a thirty-something-minute nap.

The room is cozy and heated, and the thought of knowing this is my own space currently, with no Vaughn to share it with, makes me feel all the better about it. I feel secure, with my own private area, which includes a locked door.

I stay laying there in the position I woke up in, loving the current calm state of my mind.

However, inner peace doesn't last very long.

Frantic footsteps faintly flow to my ears, and as they resonate with me, I realize they're coming up the stairs. I sit up and look to the door just in time to see it open, and Nina steps through.

"Mikaere...you might have a problem."

My brows furrow right away, "What do you mean?"

"There's a man here, Richard Wilson's boy. Claiming he's the one who dropped you off here a week or so ago."

I feel the anxiety start to rise within me. Crap...does Roan know about the accusation? Is he here to try and bring me in, now?

Instead, I play confused rather than worried. "Why would that be a problem?"

"He's asking about you. He knows you're here."

I close my eyes as I calmly take a deep breath. "What exactly is Wilson asking?"

"Just if he can talk to you."

I nod, "Thanks, Nina. I'll be right down."

Nodding back, she turns and starts heading downstairs again.

I really don't want to talk to Roan. What if the moment I step down there, he handcuffs me and tells me he's bringing me in for murder?

Then I'll most likely never say goodbye to anyone, especially Vaughn and Moose, and I'll never find out what happened to John.

However, I told Nina I'd be coming down. And, it's a risk I have to take, I guess. This was bound to happen sooner or later.

Rising, I swiftly walk out the bedroom door, closing it behind me. Then, I start to make my way downstairs. I move out to the bar and restaurant area, immediately seeing Roan sitting at a table with an older man.

I've never seen the older one before, but he definitely looks like Roan's father to me. There's definitely a resemblance there.

Except, what hair he has left is gray, and he has a full gray beard.

I walk over to them, worrying about how my acting skills will be, and Roan greets me as soon as we make eye contact. "Jane! This is my father, Richard. Dad, this is...Jane."

I stick out my hand to shake Richard's, smiling as sweetly as I can manage. "Hi, it's nice to meet you."

I need to be pleasant, I guess. Especially if Henry's right about what he's heard, at least.

I mean, I have basically nothing so far to paint him as the bad guy except hearsay and maybe just wanting him to be the culprit. I'm going to blame it on me and my childhood binge-watching Scooby-Doo days and hours spent reading Nancy Drew books, but wouldn't it be so...climactic if the bounty hunter's father was responsible? Imagine!

But then I think of how the main goal should be to find out what happened to my uncle, and I immediately feel guilty for feeling any sort of prior excitement.

"It's nice to meet you also, Jane. Please, join us."

"Alright, thanks."

It's a square table, and the two men are sitting opposite each other, which places Roan to my left and Richard to my right.

"So, Jane, where are you from?" Richard asks.

As I sit down, I remember that I am, in fact, inadequate at conversation.

I can't believe I forgot that I don't know how to start conversations that well. I was so caught up in trying to begin my searching that it didn't even register that I'd have to talk about other things, too. They still think I'm Jane, also. I can't have them knowing I'm John's niece. What if Nina or someone else uses my real name, and they find out?

Breathe. Focus. You're taking too long to answer.

So, I look up and say the first place that comes to mind. "Seattle."

I've been there a few times, so I can think of a few places I can mention if he asks about it.

I need to create a narrative for myself...or Jane, rather. This is very unfortunate because I've never been good at improvising. Or lying, for that matter. Explains why I've always planned everything out to the best of my ability, and why I'm usually pretty honest.

But now I have to lie and act in front of practically everyone, including Henry and unfortunately Nina. The only person who I honestly trust at the moment is Vaughn.

"And how about you?" I ask him. "Have you lived in this tiny village your whole life?"

He'll probably ask why I'm here. What should I say? Think, Mikaere, think. Why would you come to this little Alaskan town in the middle of nowhere? You told Roan you were visiting a friend, remember, so your answer has to go along with that.

He smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Used to live in Vancouver, but when Roan here moved out eleven years ago, I moved here."

Okay, so since he's lived here 11 years, he'll know just about everyone. That's really inconvenient because now you can't just blurt out any name.

And, if I answer 'Vaughn,' he'll probably ask how I know him.

What's my answer to that? Lie and say childhood friend or something? But then again, he's 8 years older than me. And, with that beard, he looks older, too.

"This is actually my fifth time visiting," Roan adds. "Haven't been here in a couple of years."

I nod, pretending to look interested.

What if I say Vaughn is a family friend and leave it at that? What if that won't work, though, considering I know nothing about Vaughn's family? But then again, how likely is it that Richard knows anything about Vaughn's family, either?

"So, Jane, may I ask what brought you here to this tiny village?" Richard inquires.

Well, here it is.

I hear the tavern door open and close as someone steps through, but since the door is behind me, I don't bother turning around to look. However, by the intimidated silence that occurs throughout the rest of the tavern, I think I have an idea about who it is.

"I'm here visiting a friend," I answer simply, internally still panicking over what I'm going to say next. And, with the thought of him being here now, that panic only escalates. What if he says something about my real name? But then again, he's never said my name before. And, maybe he won't even come near me.

"Oh, who's your friend?" Richard asks, and I notice Roan's eyes flicker behind me for a split second, and he shifts slightly.

I open my mouth to answer, but before I can, someone does for me.

"I am."

Well, there it is.

I somehow simultaneously stiffen and relax when I hear that very familiar voice.

While I'm relieved he answered for me, because I really don't know what I was going to blurt out, I'm left with one thought: What?

Richard and Roan's gazes match my own while our eyes follow Vaughn as he moves around the table to the last seat, which is the one in front of me. "May I?" He asks Richard, completely ignoring Roan's existence so far.

Richard and Roan are a bit startled for whatever reason they have. I, however, am surprised by his new appearance.