I make my way into the store and grab a basket. Next, I find the potatoes, then head toward the meat.

“Oh my gosh, Archer, hi!” I turn and see Dana standing inches from me.

“Hey, how are ya?” I ask politely.

“Great! How ’bout yourself?”

“Can’t complain,” I say, lowering my eyes to the steaks. “Just grabbing a few things.”

“Ooh, meat and potatoes. Yum.” She places her hand on my arm. “Everleigh’s a lucky woman.”

“Uh, thanks.” I step back, creating space between us until her hand drops. She ignores my unease.

“So what have you been up to? Training lots of people?”

“Yep, staying busy.” I place two ribeyes in my basket.

“It’s a real shame Everleigh took you off the market so fast.” She inches closer. “But I can’t say I blame her.” She smirks, and I’m immediately uncomfortable.

Considering this is a small town, people will speculate if we’re standing too close. It’s enough for me to want to get my ass away from her and out of here.

“Well, I better go if I’m gonna have time to cook. See ya later.” I walk away before she says anything else. Not sure what the hell that was about, but I wasn’t staying to find out.

When I’m only a few minutes from the house, I get a text. My heart races when I see it’s from an unknown number.

I click on it and find a picture of Everleigh with Gemma and Katie. They’re sitting together at the deli, and though there’s no date on it, I remember the outfit. Everleigh was wearing it the day Natasha nearly ran her over. That was a month ago, so why is Krystal just now sending this?

And does that mean Krystal was here, or is someone else watching her? Were Natasha and Krystal somehow working together?

A dozen questions run through my mind as I unlock the front door. Sassy greets me, then follows me to the back, where I let her outside. After I set the bag of groceries on the counter, I stare at my phone.

I realize she sent it with a message.

Unknown: It’d be a shame if all three of them got hurt because of something you did.

My blood boils, and I grind my teeth as my finger hovers over the keyboard. I’m tempted as hell to tell her to fuck off, but I don’t want her to get pleasure from knowing she gets under my skin. Instead, I pocket my phone and try to breathe.