by Alyssa Day
Eye of the Storm
Tiger’s Eye Mysteries
Alyssa Day
Holliday Publishing, LLC
Contents
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
EXCERPT: DEAD EYE
About the Author
Books by Alyssa
Author’s Note
After living through more than a decade of Florida hurricanes myself, I decide to send one to Dead End. Thanks to lovely reader Laurie Raab-Hunsaker, who named Hurricane Elvis for me and won herself a feuding family and a Fae ancestress. Congratulations, Laurie!
1
The tiger on my porch froze in place and started to make choking noises, like he'd swallowed his tongue. Luckily, he was in human form, so I didn't have to worry about how I'd do CPR on a five hundred pound tiger.
"You wore the red dress," he finally said, his eyes lit up like Christmas morning.
"I wore the red dress."
He stared at me and made another incoherent noise.
"Either you've got something caught in your throat, or you really, really like this dress," I said nervously, smoothing down the tiny amount of fabric in the too-short red dress that I'd somehow let my best friend Molly talk me into buying.
"You—I—we—" Jack stopped trying to talk and stared at me, his eyes transforming from summer-grass green to a hot, glowing amber.
Uh oh.
"Yep. Pronouns, good job. Maybe we can move on to verbs at dinner?" I grinned and tried to move past him, but he snapped into action, put his big hands on my waist, lifted me into the air, and carried me back into my house, where he immediately set me down and backed away.
I narrowed my eyes. This was not going to plan.
When my former boss's extraordinarily gorgeous nephew came back into town, helped me solve a few murders, and asked me out, I'd considered saying no. After all, his office was in the adjoining space to my pawnshop, and mixing business and pleasure wasn't a good idea, right?
Oh, who was I kidding? I'd been a big chicken, because Jack made me feel things I'd never felt before. Hot, shivery things. So, I'd finally agreed to go out with him, when he'd asked me just after I'd been shot, and then—a few weeks later—I'd even set the date.
Tonight.
So far, as I mentioned, it was not going to plan.
"Are we not going out, then? Because, if not, I'm going to put on my shorts and a T-shirt, wash off this makeup, and sit around with Lou eating ice cream and watching The Great British Baking Show for the rest of the night." I sounded annoyed, but I was actually starting to feel a little bit hurt. I'd really gone all out for this date, and Jack was still silently staring at me like he'd forgotten how to talk.
Lou, my cat, would love it if I stayed home. She was sitting on the back of the couch watching us like a silky gray-and-white-coated spectator at a tennis match, except instead of the ball going back and forth, it was her tail, swishing like a metronome set to high speed.
"Well," Jack finally managed to get out, in a rough voice I'd never quite heard from him before. "You can't go out wearing that."
Now, I was mad.
"What's wrong with it? I spent a fortune on this dress. A 'going to be a month of eating Ramen noodles' kind of fortune." The scarlet silk looked amazing with my long red hair and blue eyes, and I loved it. It was the most perfect dress I'd ever owned or worn, and that even included the bespelled Cinderella gown I'd tried on when we'd briefly had it in the pawnshop.
(Took three weeks for the mice to quit coming into the shop and trying to sew things. Mice can be very determined little creatures, let me tell you. And they're terrible singers.)
"This is a fantastic dress, Buddy, so you'd better have a good reason for—"
"Looking at you is making me forget how to breathe," he said simply, his eyes still glowing amber so hot they were nearly the color of fire. "You are the most beautiful woman I've even known."
I inhaled—almost a gasp—as his words hit me like tiny darts, piercing my nerves and my doubts.
"I'm not—I don't—okay." I blew out a long breath. "Thanks. You're beautiful, too."
A grin quirked at the edges of his sensuous lips, and the glow in his eyes banked, glimmers of green showing through the amber. "I'm a guy, Tess. We don't do beautiful."
"You are so, so wrong," I blurted out, which made my face go hot, but it also made him laugh, so the tension that had been crackling through the room like a downed power line calmed down a little bit.
He was beautiful, though. Six four, all muscle and broad shoulders, great bone structure, bronze hair, changeable eyes, and kindness and a sense of humor that trumped everything else; Jack Shepherd was exactly who I'd order up for my Dream Date, if I'd ever thought something like that would come along for somebody with my … problem.
Curse.
Gift.
Whatever.
"Okay." He shoved a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry. You … you caught me off guard. I'm dressed for dinner and a show, and you're dressed to go to a party at the British embassy."
He may have been dressed for dinner and a show, but he looked edible. Black linen pants, a pale gray long-sleeved shirt, and black dress shoes—simple, elegant, and so gorgeous on his muscular body that I probably would have to put up with women staring at him all evening long.
Wait.
What?
"Party at the British embassy? That's oddly specific. What do you know about—"
He shrugged. "Only once, and it was strictly off-book."
Nope.
"I'm sticking to my policy of not asking you about your activities in your past, rebel-leader life, until you volunteer details. If I have to hear about Cleveland and the 'sacred clown trust' one more time, I'll sic Uncle Mike on you."
He winced. "That's a low blow."
Point to me. My Uncle Mike was a tad bit overprotective about me, considering the fact that he and Aunt Ruby had raised me since I was three years old and had no children of their own. Uncle Mike and Jack had a sort of détente going on right now, but every time Aunt Ruby gave Jack more slices of cake than she'd allow Uncle Mike, who had high cholesterol, the battle escalated.
"Okay, how about this?" Jack took a step closer to me.
I took a step back.
A slow, sexy, smile—one of his specialties—spread across his unfairly gorgeous tanned face, and he took another step.
I held my ground.
He took a third step and stopped in front of me, close enough that I could smell a hint of sandalwood from his aftershave. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath.
"Are you sniffing me?" His voice held amusement and something else; something darker and more sensual.
"Nope. I'm using Lamaze breathing to attempt to cope with how badly wrong this date is going so far." I opened my eyes, which was a mistake, because he was so close I was staring right at his mouth.
Which I wanted to kiss.
Again.
Memories of kissing him suddenly swept through me, leaving a flare of heat lightning dancing in their wake like fireflies at dusk.
"Jack?" Maybe we could skip the date. Maybe we could stay right here and see if that other kissing had been a fluke, or if we really had such insane chemistry, and if kissing him really would magically make my panties disappear, which was maybe going a bit too far, but …
My ph
one rang.
I reached in my tiny evening purse and silenced it.
"Not answering," I said. "It's Sunday night, the shop is closed, everybody knows we're on a date, and I swear if this is Uncle Mike calling to make sure you're being a gentleman—"
"I already got that call," Jack said, grinning. "About an hour ago. He asked me how I'm doing and then casually mentioned how he'd always 'sorta, kinda' wanted to go on a tiger hunt, but he figured tigers had never done anything to him, so he'd left them alone, but that could always change."
I blew out a sigh. "I'm almost twenty-seven years old. I wish they'd quit treating me like a child they need to protect. Bad enough my long-last dad came back into town and tried to do it. He's gone for a while now, though, because Alejandro wants him to testify against the Irish mob."
"He'll be back soon, Tess." As usual, Jack could tell what I was thinking and knew I missed the fragile peace that my father and I had begun to build between us.
"And, anyway…" Jack caught a strand of my hair and gently tugged it, letting his fingers slide down the shiny length. I'd left it down and loose for the date, even though it was nearly to my waist now, because Jack had made a comment or two in the past about how he loved my hair, and I was vain enough to quite enjoy the compliments. "They'll never quit trying to protect you. They love you. I know exactly how they feel, because I—"
My phone rang again. I started to silence it again, but then Jack's phone rang.
And then the house phone that Uncle Mike insisted I keep in case all the cell towers suddenly got caught in an apocalypse started to ring.
"Not again," I groaned, thinking of the last time all the phones had rung at once, which had ended with a sheriff's deputy on my porch threatening to break down my door and an FBI agent on the phone.
Jack muttered something beneath his breath that didn't sound very nice at all, but then he took his phone out of his pocket and glanced at it.
"It's the sheriff," he said, frowning.
I pulled my phone out. "Mine says Dead End Sheriff's Department, too."
We answered our respective phones, simultaneously.
"Hello?"
Sheriff Gonzalez's voice came on my line, but with a lot of noise in the background. "Tess, it's Susan. I need you to come out to your shop. Somebody has broken in."
My knees turned to rubber, and I might have fallen if Jack hadn't suddenly been there beside me, one arm around me.
I stared into his eyes when I answered Susan. "There's not … nobody … Susan!"
She sounded distracted, and I could hear other voices in the background. "What? Tess, what … oh. No, I'm sorry. Of course you'd think that, after Jeremiah and … No. There are no dead bodies in your pawnshop this time. But I need you to come down and identify what's missing and give a report."
I told her I'd be right there and hung up, and Jack told whoever was on his line that we were on the way.
"Are you okay?" He touched my cheek. "I'm so sorry."
"Are you kidding?" I started to laugh. "I've been robbed! Isn't it wonderful? It's like I won the lottery!"
Jack's eyes narrowed, and I could see the concern in them. "Tess—"
"No, I'm not cracking up." I reassured him, tossing my purse on the couch, so I could go change out of The Dress.
The date would have to wait.
I didn't know if I felt disappointed or relieved.
"I can see how you'd think that, but Susan told me it's only a robbery, Jack. There are no dead bodies in my pawnshop, except for Fluffy, and he lives there. After the past year, this feels like a win."
He shook his head. "I feel like I should be able to argue with the idea that 'only' getting robbed is a victory, but you're right. It's the easiest thing we've had to deal with since I moved back to Dead End."
I headed for my room and made it almost three steps past him when his hand on my arm pulled me around to face him.
"Tess. I realize we have to postpone the date, but I'm still going to kiss you." He paused and swallowed, hard, and suddenly he looked almost shy, instead of tough and alpha and all those other rebel soldier things he'd been for so long. "I mean, if that's okay with you."
I hesitated, but only for a split second. "It's very okay with me."
I moved closer, which felt like one of the bravest things I'd ever done.
Jack put his arms around me and pulled me to him, and my heart beat faster, and my breath sped up, and I felt like I'd stepped into one of my favorite romance novels—I was surrounded by heat and strength and spicy, sexy, wonderful man …
And then he kissed me.
And I stopped thinking anything at all.
He kissed me, and I kissed him back.
On a scale of one to ten, his kisses were probably a twenty, and if my knees had felt weak before, now they seemed to be missing.
Or floating.
One of us was making tiny noises that probably translated into 'more, more, more' or 'oh, my goodness, this is better than chocolate,' or a harsh, buzzing noise …
A buzzing noise?
"What?" I pulled back, breathing hard, and was extremely pleased to see that Jack looked exactly as dazed as I felt.
"What?" He shook his head a little and then pulled me back to him, but I put a hand on his chest.
"Wait. That was, oh, wow, my brain is melting."
He grinned at me with such an expression of sheer male arrogance that I would have punched him if I didn't feel the same way.
Well, the female arrogance version.
"Kissing you makes my brain quit working," he said, his eyes widening. "I never—I mean, it's just …" He shook his head and laughed. "I guess, 'oh, wow, my brain is melting' really is the best way to describe it."
My phone buzzed again.
"So much so that we both forgot we need to go make a report about a robbery. Crap! What are we doing?"
Jack glanced at the clock on my mantel, and he winced. "We'd better get going. Now. We, uh, it's been almost ten minutes since the sheriff called."
"Ten minutes! How did we—never mind. Let's just go." I grabbed my purse, patted Lou on the head, and rushed to the door. "No time to change clothes now."
Jack followed, still shaking his head. "This might be a problem, Tess."
I yanked open the door. "Really? This might be a problem? That's what you have to say, after the most amazing …" I snapped my mouth closed. I wasn't about to tell him it was the most amazing kiss of my life, when he was all 'this might be a problem.'
He followed me out onto the porch, took my keys and locked the door for me, and then pulled me close for a quick, fierce hug. "It was the most amazing kiss of my life, too, Tess."
I rested my forehead on his chest for a moment and smiled a small, secret smile to myself.
Okay, then.
"Which is why it might be a problem," he continued as we walked to the car, because he was a guy, and they apparently never know when to shut up. I considered kicking him, but didn't want to damage the shiny new high-heeled shoes I'd bought to go with the dress.
"If there's another bad guy in Dead End, I can't afford to be distracted. I need to be sure you're safe." He opened the passenger door on his truck for me, and I marched right past him, because I was sick to death of everybody treating me like I was fragile and needed to be protected.
I'd proved I was pretty capable of taking care of myself—and other people, too—recently, and one little robbery was not going to take us back to 'protect poor Tess' zone.
"I'll take my car," I told him, opening the door to my beloved Mustang. "I'll meet you there. And, Jack?" I smiled sweetly at him.
He paused, although I knew he'd been on the verge of arguing with me. "Yes?"
"When I bend down to get into my car, try not to be distracted by the lovely, lacy underwear I bought to go with this dress, okay?"
He blinked, apparently speechless again, and I took advantage of the moment to get in my car, lock the doors, and back out of my driveway. I
even waved to my new vampire neighbor on my way down the lane.
And, robbery or no robbery, I smiled all the way to my pawnshop.
2
The freshly painted white door to my pawnshop hung askew, as if one of the hurricanes currently projected to be on track to hit our little town of Dead End had smashed through it. It felt like a punch in the stomach, and I hadn't even seen the inside yet. I rushed inside, ignoring Jack, who was pulling up between my car and Susan's sheriff-mobile.
Susan Gonzalez, who was sort of a cross between Sofia Vergara and Rambo, raised a dark brow. "Wow. So, is this what the well-dressed robbery victim wears these days?"
I glanced down at The Dress. I probably should have changed, after all. "I was headed out on a date when you called, actually. Didn't want to waste time changing."
She grinned. "Hot date with Owen to talk dental equipment?"
I groaned. "Didn't anybody like Owen? And I broke up with him, by the way. He's a very sweet guy—"
"But she likes bad boys," Jack interjected, walking up next to me. He smiled at Susan but then turned serious. "This looks like they went for a side of vandalism with their robbery."
"Well, you're looking good, Mr. Shepherd, so I don't think I need to ask who the date was with. Sorry to ruin your night."
I'd been scanning the shop, heart sinking, even as I half-heartedly bantered with Susan, and Jack was right. Two of my glass-topped display cases were smashed, and the neat rows of contents were now a jumbled mess. A shelving unit had been knocked to the floor.
I glanced at the floor. "No muddy footprints," I said, frowning.
Susan tilted her head. "What? It hasn't rained. Why would there be muddy footprints?"
"So you could take a cast of the footprint and track the culprit down by the shoe size and make, naturally." I started to gently pick my way through the mess of items on the floor—not that easy in high heels—and make my way toward the counter, where I saw that my lovely antique cash register had been bashed with something heavy, too.
