by Kay Maree
“So”—she sank into the seat across from mine—“I have questions. Are you up to answering them?”
“Try me.” We’d arrived on her doorstep with twenty-four-hours’ notice of a visit. It was only fair that I gave her some information. The main reason was too risky to share, though. That was between me, my sister, and the men who’d raided my home a few days ago.
“Tabby’s sentence is four years. Are you raising Benjamin? Parental responsibility and all that?”
I inclined my head. “I’ve got him until she gets out.”
“Doesn’t she get visitation? Why are you here?” She raised a fair eyebrow.
“Not that you aren’t welcome. You can both stay as long as you like.”
“There’s… Other stuff going on. It was better for us to be away,” I said, knowing how it must sound—like I was hiding a big fat secret. “I need to spend a few days here while I work out what to do.”
“How long do you need to be away from this stuff for?”
I opened and closed my mouth. “A while.”
Her gaze took me to pieces. I had nowhere else to go, she must know that. Dad had always insisted I live with him, even at the age of twenty-two. Over the years, I’d lived in half a dozen military bases, changing schools when Dad got promoted, getting my degree by distance learning when he’d relocated from England to the Scottish Highlands that had been our last home.
I’d never stayed anywhere for enough time to make permanent friends, and I had no one else I could turn to now in my hour of need.
“It’s Christmas in a few weeks. If nothing else comes up in the meantime, stay until then. We’ve got the space, and having you both here will make me feel less like an outsider. Promise me you’ll think about it.”
I didn’t want to lead trouble to her door, but her hospitality had me almost sagging with relief. Not that I intended to take her up on it. Staying in one place for too long felt too risky. “I will. Thank you.”
Lena grinned. “Great! Then let’s head into town and see about your busted car.”
****
Mid-morning, in Lena’s four-wheel drive—far more suited for the snowy conditions than my hired Toyota had been—we descended the hilltop suburb and entered Falls Ridge. A pretty tourist village, it had wide streets and a forest-and-mountain backdrop. Snow ploughs had cleared access to the hiking gear stores and cafés, and a healthy number of people milled about.
Lena pointed out the sites. At the end of the main street, she stopped the 4x4.
“There’s Hank’s auto shop. That looks like your car.”
Across the road, the Toyota sat on the forecourt of a well-kept garage. Earlier, I’d spoken to the Seattle-based hire company. Yesterday, I’d paid for the car for two weeks, not sure of my plans. They’d said they’d call Hank.
Lena’s phone trilled. She pulled over at the kerb and took the call. I indicated that I was going to the garage, and she held up a finger to make me wait.
“Now? Right, I’ll be there.” She hung up and blew out a breath. “That was Edward’s school. He’s complaining that he’s feeling sick. Can I leave you here while I go pick him up? I’ll be back soon. You can leave Benjamin with me.”
“Poor Edward.” I gazed at the street. A bar/café called Bhaltair’s sat the other side, across from the auto shop. Beyond that were a winter clothing store and a Christmas market. I needed to stretch my legs. To get my bearings and shake off the version of me that was still fearful. They couldn’t track us here, surely.
“I’d like to explore. Tell you what, I’ll make my own way back.” I could walk to Lena’s in under an hour if the car wasn’t fixed. The route was easy to follow.
“Are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure.” I twisted in the seat. “Benji? I’m going to go for a little stroll. Are you going to be okay with Auntie Lena?”
Benjamin gave me the sweetest grin then returned his attention to Stephi, strapped into the car seat next to his. I watched him for a moment, thinking on all he’d lost. All we’d both lost. At least here he was among familiar faces. My decision had been a good one.
“He’ll be okay.” Lena touched my hand. She took off her purple woollen hat and pulled it over my head. “Get a coffee and relax for an hour or two. Looks to me like you need it.”
I gave her a quick hug and left the warmth of the car, heading into the garage. Hank wasn’t there, and his staff member asked me to call back in ten minutes, so I ambled along the rank of shops, their windows jolly with festive cheer.
Despite the bright day, each of my breaths turned to a frosty cloud. My boots, designer, supple black leather with a short heel, leaked in the chill from the snow underfoot.
In my haste to get us away from Scotland, I’d packed light. Clothes for Benjamin and me tossed haphazardly into two suitcases, along with a parcel of keepsakes my sister had insisted on me taking after our last visit to her jail.
‘Take them with you and leave. People are going to be looking for you. And for Benjamin. They’ll want revenge. Don’t let them hurt my baby.’
I shivered at the memory of my sister’s words and headed back up the high street. At a hiking store, I picked up a pair of winter boots and checked the price tag.
Frick. Money.
Gripping the shoe rack, I performed a quick mental calculation. At the airport in London, for extortionate rates, I’d exchanged pounds for dollars. I had maybe a thousand left in cash but would need to withdraw more.
Which left a paper trail leading right to this small town.
Could people really do that? Trace you from a bank’s secure database?
I shuddered and shook off the feeling. Being on the run was messing with my mind.
The bell tinkled over the door, and I raised my gaze. The huge, black-haired man who I’d nearly run off the road yesterday strode into the store. His stare found me, and he did the same thing he’d done yesterday—performed a sweeping assessment.
I stood tall under his scrutiny.
Guys looked at me. A lot. They had done since I’d turned fourteen. With my glossy brown hair, hard-to-hide boobs, and heart-shaped face, I knew I was attractive. Not that I’d dated much; the men on the base feared Dad too much, and the one airman I’d thrown myself at hadn’t wanted me.
Yeah, that was an embarrassing memory.
Today, there was a difference, though. No lust haunted my huge non-vampire’s attention. He frowned at my coat—a nice, if not entirely practical, belted jacket—then curled his lip at my boots.
I replaced the shoes on the rack.
Yesterday, I’d sniped at him. He hadn’t spoken one word in response.
Two could play at that game. I drifted closer to him, stopped and, very deliberately, flicked my gaze down his massive body. I ogled his ridiculously broad chest, the gap in his open jacket that revealed a thick, ribbed jumper over a flat stomach. I took inventory of his belt, his crotch, and his long legs.
Then, a little warm, I returned my attention to his face.
“Morning,” I said, breathier than intended, and I turned on my heel and walked away.
****
Hank threw down the rag he’d used to wipe his fingers and gave me a happy smile.
“Just the woman I needed to speak to. I’m sorry I missed you earlier. Follow me, let’s get out of the cold.”
He took me into Bhaltair’s, the bar/coffee shop next to his lot, and bought me a coffee. Hank, I liked.
“The upshot,” he explained, “is it’ll cost too much for me to fix that car, so your hire company are sending a truck to take it away and bring you a replacement. They couldn’t get hold of you to leave a message so they asked me to pass it on.”
I hadn’t switched on my phone since we’d arrived in the US, the same vague fear that I could be tracked making me cautious. The hire company had Lena’s home number.
“Did they say when the replacement would be delivered?” I asked. My
coffee sent delicious tendrils of scent up my nose.
The man gave a shrug. “Nothing specific. Maybe give them a call if it’s urgent.” He eyed me. “Are you in town for long? We have an old Jeep, one my daughter uses when she’s home. But she has her own car now, so it’s just sitting there.”
I blinked, the generosity of this stranger unexpected. “I’m not sure.”
“It isn’t easy with a child in tow. Not for a young parent.”
He thought Benjamin was mine. Lena hadn’t said. Maybe that was for the best; I didn’t want to attract questions.
I fixed my smile. “That’s incredibly generous. I’ll let you know.”
Hank tapped the table. “That’ll do.” He rose. “Now, do you need a ride home to Lena’s?”
“No, thank you.” Then I added suddenly, “I’m a complete stranger. You’ve been so helpful.”
“You’re family to a local, that means a lot in a place like this. Talk soon.” Hank waved, then he was gone.
I stared after him, still blindsided. A white piece of paper, pinned to a notice board, fluttered as the door closed. Christmas help wanted, it read. Cash paid.
At the end of the room, an open fire crackled. Whatever they were preparing in the kitchen smelled divine. Over the bar, Christmas decorations glinted.
If Falls Ridge wasn’t in a vampire story, then it was a myth about small towns, perfect places with friendly people and nice ways. Somewhere around would be a handsome hero waiting for his lady love to stumble in, needing rescuing. And here I was, the secretive, improperly dressed outsider.
But I wasn’t a stranger to hardship. I was a pampered princess in name only; life with Dad had taught me how cruel people could be. Appearances were always deceptive, and I was no fool to believe in first impressions.
I finished my coffee and left the sweet, homely bar behind.
****
Two days later, and Benjamin had settled in happily with Lena’s family, at home with their brand of fun and noise, and glued to Stephi’s side. Never having had a dad, he surprised us all by taking to Mark, Lena’s husband, and they all seemed to be enjoying our stay. An overwhelming sense of safety finally had me relaxing. We’d done it. Fled. Got away with our lives.
Even so, I needed to keep on my toes. If we had to leave again in a hurry, I’d need more cash. Our plane tickets had fake return dates and, at some point, we’d have to buy new ones and hop on to another destination.
With no useful information from the car hire company, I borrowed Lena’s 4x4 and left Benjamin in her capable hands. Three hours later, I was a safe enough distance away to risk a cash withdrawal from one of my accounts.
At a national bank in a small city, I tried a machine, half afraid that an alarm would blare and the bank staff would run out to detain me.
Withdrawal denied. Funds unavailable, the screen read.
I swallowed, then tried again.
Withdrawal denied. Funds unavailable.
“Argh!” I grumbled at the machine.
I tried my separate savings account, which I hadn’t touched in forever but which had a healthy balance courtesy of Dad’s generosity.
I stomped my cold feet in my snowy boots while I waited.
The same answer appeared, flashing, in case I missed the implication.
Oh, for the love of God.
There was no reason for my money to have been frozen, I wasn’t under investigation. Unless maybe I was. Perhaps that was why two masked men had ransacked the whole of Dad’s home, including my bedroom.
I climbed back into the borrowed car and wrung my icy hands.
With no money, Benjamin and I were stuck. The cash I had left wouldn’t last long if we went on the run again, and there was no way I would borrow from Lena—she’d been generous enough with her offer to stay.
Stay in Falls Ridge…
At least we could do that. They’d invited us to spend Christmas with them. Maybe, with a bit of effort, our safe haven could last a few weeks longer.
CHAPTER THREE
All That Mattered
Bull
“We had a young woman come by earlier. She filled out a form for the bar job.” Denise leaned through the kitchen doorway. She held up a piece of paper and flapped it at me.
Busy, I stood over the two vats of stew and sampled each for taste. Nae bad. One was destined for the evening crowd who flocked to my bar, the other for another location entirely. “You manage the casual staff. Why are ye telling me?”
“Stop for a second and listen,” Denise continued, the only person brave enough to harangue me to my face. “I need someone to cover the hours over Christmas so the timing is good, but I doubt she’s legal. You’d need to make the call.”
This got my attention. “Why do ye think that?”
“She’s new in town, and British.”
I covered the bubbling, rich broths and stepped back from the stove, taking the page from my shift manager. Running my fingers over my beard, I studied the sheet. Autumn Smith, read the name. Denise was right, that was a fake last name if ever I heard one.
“Says here she’s English,” I muttered. “British isn’t a nationality.”
Denise snorted a laugh. “Okay, big man. Just read it.” She wheeled around to serve one of the regulars hollering for her attention out in the bar.
My gaze remained fixed on that name. Autumn. What were the odds she was the same Englishwoman who’d nearly crashed into me last week? The one who had knocked me on my arse with a single brazen look the following day.
“Bull! There’s a keg delivery,” a voice called, and I dropped the form and snatched the cellar keys from their hook. Striding out of the bar, I pulled my hair into a tie at the back of my neck.
“Yes or no,” Denise yelled as I passed.
“Aye, hire her if ye want,” I groused. It made no difference to me.
If it was the same lass, she had a bairn to care for.
I did not.
In all that was right or wrong with the world, that was all that mattered.
CHAPTER FOUR
Eye-opener
Autumn
My first shift at Bhaltair’s was an eye-opener. I’d never worked a day in my life, aside from running Dad’s social functions back at Lossiemouth, the airbase. I could organise a formal dinner, and I could drop money on his credit cards like no one’s business, but I’d never served a plate, never poured a beer.
Luckily, I was a quick learner.
Denise, the bar manager, was a doll, and overlooked every mistake I made. She even smiled when I returned the next morning, so I couldn’t have been too horrendous a new employee.
I certainly earned my money. The place had a reputation for its excellent food service. The evening menu was a simple three-item list: steak burger with fries, chicken salad, casserole with crusty rolls. No fuss, and no specials, but all great quality. The simplicity worked for the tourists who flocked in from their snowy walks in the woods, and the bar was knee-deep with people refuelling.
By late evening, it finally quietened down enough for me to take a breath. Staff ate for free, so I devoured a bowl of the casserole. The rich taste almost blew my mind, the beef melt-in-the-mouth.
“Who makes this?” I shovelled it in, too tired and hungry to care about the manners I used to so carefully watch. Ten minutes, and I was back on duty.
“The boss.” Denise placed a cup of water in front of me.
“I thought you were the boss?”
“Me? No.”
“Where are they?” We could’ve used the help. At times, throughout the early evening, the place had been overrun.
“He runs another eatery twice a week. You’ll meet him soon enough.” Denise scooted away to collect glasses and clear tables.
“Watch yourself when you do,” a voice came from down the bar.
I glanced up to see a wizened, grey-haired man glaring at me, his face set in a disgruntled expre
ssion.
“Watch myself? Why?”
“He’s one miserable son of a bitch,” the man replied.
“Don’t pay him any mind.” Another older gentleman in a baseball cap frowned. “Don’t you think he has a right to be unhappy after what happened with his boy?”
“Something happened to his kid?” I raised my hand to my mouth, my mind shooting to Benjamin. To the fear I had for his safety.
“No, no, nothing bad. The boy’s fine.” The second man waved a hand. “I didn’t mean that. It’s just a sad story, is all.”
“Whatever. I never met a bigger asshole,” the first guy muttered. “Fucking foreigners.”
Charming. “I’m a foreigner.” I smiled at him, my thoughts still caught on what might’ve happened to the bar owner’s son. “Or isn’t that obvious?”
Denise swept back to the bar, and I did a double-take at her, at the anger in her expression.
“You want to get kicked out of here again, you go right ahead and carry on running your mouth like that, John Devoy,” she snarled.
“It’s him that should be kicked out. What right has he got to take our money and spend it like he does?” the old man spat back.
“You mind your own business. Last warning.” Denise dropped her tray on the bar with a clatter of plates and cutlery.
The man grumbled but picked up his beer and took it to a table.
“What’s his problem?” I gawked after him then turned to the bar manager.
“Some people disagree with showing kindness to strangers,” Denise said.
She went to continue, but the door opened, and a stream of people came in, tapping the snow from their shoes and rubbing their hands in the warmth of the big open fire. I didn’t get a chance to hear the rest of her answer. Instead, I leapt to serve.
When the fuss died down, Denise vanished to change a barrel in the tap room, leaving me still hung up on the mysterious boss.
