Retaliate

by Kristin Harte

  A kiss fourteen years in the making.

  Unable to stop, unable to hold still, I rolled my hips against his, pressing against the hard ridge between us. Loving the little grunt he gave and wanting so much more from him. But the rain never let up, and the cold finally got to me. As lightning flashed from across the valley, I trembled, breaking the kiss and pressing my forehead against his as I caught my breath. As I fought to control the way my heart wanted to leap out of my chest.

  “Fuck, Anabeth,” Bishop said, panting as he let my legs slide back to the ground. As he held me tight and kept his big body against mine. “What are we doing?”

  That question pulled me up fast. What were we doing? Or rather, what was I doing… Other than making even more mistakes. I couldn’t hurt him again. I couldn’t take him down that same path only to walk away. Or have him leave me behind.

  “I’m sorry.” I pulled out of his hold, curling on myself. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

  Bishop’s face hardened and he looked away, his anger rolling off him in waves. “Shouldn’t have, but you did.”

  I did. And I wanted to do it again, which made me whisper another, “I’m sorry.”

  “You said that.” He pinned me with a hard glare, those steely gray eyes burning. “What do you want, Anabeth? What do I need to do here?”

  Kiss me again. Tell me it’ll be okay. Make me feel something other than pain and loss.

  All impossible things. So I lied. “Nothing. I want nothing.”

  “Nothing. From me.”

  The hurt in his voice killed me, but I held my tongue. Of course I wanted things from Bishop Kennard. I wanted more of his kisses, to see him look at me with love and affection, to have his warm body wrapped around mine at night. I wanted to share stories of our days over dinner and wake up to his smiling face. I wanted everything—but I didn’t deserve a single bit of it. I didn’t deserve him.

  When I didn’t speak again, he grunted a frustrated sort of noise, his lips twisting into a frown. “Fine. I’ll give you your nothing, Anabeth.”

  He spun on his heel and stormed off, heading for his truck. Leaving me behind just as I’d left him. And as I stood there in the rain, as the cold and the loss and the grief pulled me under the foamy waves, I knew the pain and heartbreak building inside of me was exactly what I deserved for lying to him. Again.

  Chapter Five

  Anabeth

  Do not think about kissing Bishop or the reversed nine of wands card you pulled this morning. Think about…

  “It will never stop raining,” I said to no one, frowning out the windshield at the constant sheet of water falling from the sky. One of the only things I didn’t miss about living along the Rocky Mountain Front was the rainy season. Sure, it rained in Vegas—rained hard enough to flood the streets sometimes—but not like in Justice. In Vegas, the rain came and went faster than dollar bills in a slot machine. In Justice, the rain clouds rolled in heavy and dark, blocking the top of the mountains as they settled in for days upon days of nothing but cold, wet skies. It often felt as if you’d never see the sun again, that the rain clouds would stay up against that mountain range and the world would simply float away.

  Or perhaps my mind wasn’t in the right place to be dealing with so much darkness while preparing for a funeral. I’d pulled some bad cards that morning, including my least favorite—the nine of wands reversed. It indicated hesitancy and being on edge in my life, things I definitely felt. Things I needed to confront and address if I was to move forward, but I couldn’t focus on that. Instead, my mind kept rolling through memories of the night before. Of a kiss that never should have happened and a fight afterward. Of a certain local with strong lips and even stronger hands.

  Quit thinking about Bishop.

  I drove through Justice, heading back from Rock Falls with a trunk full of grocery bags. I hadn’t been able to do any sort of shopping with Miss sick, the days leading up to her death too stressful to try. But life always moved on, which meant I needed supplies. And distractions.

  The old house had been too quiet when I’d woken up that morning. Too dark and empty. There was a lot to do there—clean out the closets and cubbies, rearrange the furniture so I could put it up for sale, prepare to say goodbye and grieve every single aspect of my former life forever—but all that could wait for half a day. I needed a couple of hours out of the house, away from the loneliness and the sadness that had infested it. At least, that’s what I’d told myself when I’d gone running out the front door that morning as if chased by a ghost.

  As I turned onto Main Street, I spotted a new sign along the strip of mostly empty buildings. The Baker’s Cottage. Catchy in a homey sort of way, and a complete surprise. A restaurant actually in town? A sign in the window said “Now Open,” and another said “Homemade Soup Daily.” A hot, hearty bowl of soup sounded like the perfect thing to combat the dreariness of the day, and I wasn’t ready to face the afternoon alone in that empty house, so I pulled into a parking spot.

  A bell chimed quietly overhead when I walked into The Baker’s Cottage, adding to the quaintness of the warm, ski-lodge style interior. Soft, muted grays made the perfect backdrop for the wood trim around the walls and ceilings, and the rocks stacked to form the bar fit right into the space. Someone knew the area well. The locals should have been flocking there, but the restaurant sat empty instead. Odd, even for a late morning in Justice. And a perfect issue to focus on so I could stop thinking about…other things.

  “Hi there.” A pixie-like young woman with her blond hair pulled up in a sleek ponytail appeared from the back. “Welcome to The Baker’s Cottage. Can I get you some coffee?”

  I slid onto a stool at the bar and reached for a menu. “No, thanks. I’m more of a tea girl.”

  “You and the owner must be kindred souls.” She pulled a wooden box from under the counter. “We’ve got options from some of the best tea blenders around the country. What’s your preference? Black, green, oolong?”

  “Green. I usually drink a spearmint tea.”

  “Then I know just the one.” She turned to add water to the electric kettle behind her, humming softly to herself. I’d learned early to trust my instincts about people, and that had paid off well for me in Vegas. I might not truly see someone’s future like Miss had been able to, but I could play the part of the seer. I could prod enough to get a reaction, to make the mark show a sign of positive or negative response, and build from there. My skills lay in reading tarot cards, but even that required an understanding of people to get a true and honest read on them.

  This girl? Happiness practically radiated off of her, and I found myself wondering if she was newly married or pregnant. Maybe both. I reached into my bag and pulled out my tarot deck, wanting to read her cards. Wanting to know more about her. I shuffled the deck quickly, fingering the edges before flipping one, then two, then three, all while focusing on the blonde across the bar. Me pulling the cards wouldn’t give me an exact read on her, but it’d be a start. Something unobtrusive and quiet I could do to learn more. And if she saw and asked me to give her an actual read? All the better.

  The first card came up as the knight of cups, indicating romance and a knight in shining armor in her life. If she didn’t have a partner, and one who protected her at all costs, I’d be surprised. The second showed me the fool—innocence and new beginnings. The third brought a frown to my face—a reversed wheel of fortune card indicating bad luck and external forces against her. That didn’t fit, but I couldn’t tell if the card was meant for her or for me, or if it was just a bad pull.

  “Justice is a small town,” the waitress said, smiling politely as she grabbed a tea bag from the box before me. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around. Passing through?”

  I slipped the wheel of fortune card back into the deck. She didn’t need to know about that one. Sometimes being a good performer meant hiding the bad things from those around you, especially when they hadn’t asked to know about them.

&n
bsp; “Sort of. Lived here for a while back in high school, then headed off to Vegas. My grandmother’s from here, though. Or she was.” I had to find a better explanation when she gave me a confused look. “She just passed. Sorry—I’m not really used to thinking of her as gone yet.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss.” She cocked her head, looking at me in a new light then glancing down to the cards on the bar in front of me. “Are you Miss Hansen’s granddaughter? The one who tells people their futures?”

  “Sure am.” I smiled and offered my hand. “I’m Anabeth Monroe. And you are?”

  “No way.” A brunette practically slid through the door to the kitchen, her eyes wide and her smile wider. “Anabeth Monroe. I never thought I’d see that red hair in person again.”

  It took me less than three seconds to pull up the memories of that wide smile and those pretty hazel eyes. Katie Baker—she’d been a few years behind me in school, but I remembered her. She’d spent most of her time with the youngest Kennard sibling, a girl named Lainie. Short and rail thin back in those days, Katie had grown into a curvy woman with a welcoming smile and a body that would knock a grown man on his ass. I would have bet she was super popular with the men at the mill.

  “Katie.” I stood and hugged the shorter girl. “Is this your place? I didn’t even know you were still in town.”

  “I wasn’t, but I am now. Just came back, actually.” She moved behind the bar, joining the blonde. “I moved to Denver for a bit to go to culinary school and try to be a chef in the city, but ended up missing home too much. So I’m here, and I’ve just opened this place. With a little help from the Kennards, of course.”

  Of course. Nothing got done in this town without them. “Well, the restaurant looks amazing, and the soup choices sound delicious.”

  “Thanks. I’m pretty proud of what we’ve done so far.” Her eyes went wide, her mouth falling open as she reached for me. “I’m also an asshole. Here I am talking about opening a restaurant, and you’re dealing with grief. I heard Miss passed away. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  That was something I desperately missed about small-town life—the family vibe. The way neighbors looked out for one another. The gossip flew pretty fast, but so did the offers of help when you needed it.

  Didn’t mean I could accept it, though. “Thank you, but I’m fine. Everything is handled, and now I just have to wait for the actual funeral.”

  “It’s Saturday, right?”

  Two days until I had to say goodbye to Miss forever. “Yeah, at Molnar’s in Rock Falls.”

  “Well, you can count on me being there.” Katie gave me a supportive sort of smile and covered my hand with hers. “What else can I do? Are you hungry? Of course you are—you’re in a restaurant. What can I get you?”

  “I saw your sign in the window and thought a warm bowl of soup sounded like perfection on such a dreary day. I was about to try to pick when you came in.”

  Katie slid the menu back in front of me. “Soup is a good choice. Besides what’s on the menu here, I’ve got a steak stew that’s been simmering since four this morning. It’s probably the best stew I make, if you’re up for more of a hearty meal.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  “I’ll get it,” the blonde said, moving toward the kitchen. Katie stopped her before she could pass, though.

  “Anabeth, have you met Shye yet?”

  I smiled and offered my hand again. “I was just introducing myself when you came out. Hi, I’m Anabeth Monroe.”

  “Shye Anderson,” she said, shaking my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Shye’s somewhat new in town,” Katie said. “Though she’s already locked down Alder Kennard.”

  Locked down…I hadn’t been wrong about her. “Alder’s married? I had no idea.”

  Shye rolled her eyes. “We’re not married, though he’d drag me down to the courthouse right this second if I let him.”

  She joked, but the blush on her cheeks and the light in her eyes didn’t lie—the woman was in love. In deep.

  My smile got a little harder to keep up.

  “Well, congratulations. The Kennards are good people, and if these cards are right—and they’re always right”—I pasted on my stage grin and winked her way—“you’ve got a happy future with hope and possibility coming your way. You should definitely let him drag you wherever he wants to take you.”

  “All in good time,” Shye said, still grinning, still practically glowing with a happiness she seemed to be trying to rein in. “I’m really sorry to hear about Miss, though. She was always kind to me when I lived up on the ridge.”

  “Thank you. I’m glad you got to know her before she passed.”

  Katie bumped shoulders with the woman. “All right, Mrs. Kennard. How about you go grab her a bowl of stew before your bodyguard shows up?”

  Shye frowned, then disappeared into the back as Katie poured my steeped tea.

  “Bodyguard?”

  Katie hummed. “You’ll see. So tell me—how’s Vegas?”

  I shrugged, ambivalent about my adopted home, ripping the corner of my paper napkin to keep my hands busy so I didn’t reach for my cards again. “Fine. Good. My career is going well, and I’ve got a nice place far enough off the Strip to not have to deal with tourists very often. What more could I ask for?”

  More kisses from Bishop.

  As if reading my mind, Katie asked, “Got a man out there?”

  “No. No man.” To be truthful, I hadn’t had a boyfriend since Bishop. I’d dated. I’d even tried for a commitment at one point, but no dice. Every time someone got too close, I ran. Romance didn’t seem to be in the cards for me no matter what the local gossip hounds liked to think. They stirred up trouble whenever they saw me even talking to another man, which did nothing but irritate me.

  Kissing Bishop didn’t irritate you… The memory of the day before, of throwing myself at Bishop and how he’d kissed me, screamed through my mind. It had been a great kiss—intense and soul-shattering—but that was all it could be. A single kiss. I’d told him I wanted nothing from him, and if the silence of my cell phone was any indication, he was following my directive. Which was for the best. Or so I told myself.

  Shye returned with the stew and a roll before disappearing into the back again, leaving Katie and me in the otherwise empty dining room. The other woman busied herself behind the bar as I brought a spoonful of stew to my mouth. An explosion of flavors erupted, the warmth pushing aside the constant chill that had settled upon me and that I’d almost gotten used to.

  “Oh my god,” I said as soon as I lifted another spoonful up to blow on it. “This is amazing.”

  “Thanks. It was my grandma’s recipe, but I changed a few things around. Classic with a twist, you know?” Katie’s grin dropped into a concerned frown as she looked past me. “Now if I could just get about a hundred more customers to be willing to give me a shot, everything would be just peachy.”

  “I noticed you were a bit slow. I’d have figured the guys at the mill would be all over a place like this.”

  “I’m sure they’ll come around once things settle back down.” She shrugged when I didn’t respond. “They’ve had some trouble with the Soul Suckers lately.”

  That was something you didn’t hear every day. “Soul Suckers… The mill’s had problems with demons?”

  “No, not demons. The motorcycle gang,” Shye said, appearing from the back just as the bell over the door dinged for a new customer. A man I didn’t recognize—long hair, beard, flat, dark eyes, and enough muscle to be a threat even if he smiled your way. Which he was not. Living in Vegas and doing the job I did—reading the people in a crowd and figuring how to push their buttons—I knew when bad entered a room, and that man was bad.

  Tiny Shye simply huffed, looking like a kitten about to use its claws. “My chaperone is here.”

  Katie shook her head, watching the bearded one with something like interest. Something she definitely seemed t
o be trying to hide. “Alder worries about you. We should all be so lucky as to have a man watching out for us.”

  “I know. I just wish things didn’t have to be so complicated.” Shye shot me a smile tinged with frustration. “It was nice meeting you, Anabeth.”

  “You as well,” I said as I watched the woman walk out with the bear of a man who…hadn’t said a single word.

  “So that’s the bodyguard.”

  “Yup.” Katie waited until I had a spoonful of stew in my mouth to say, “They burned her trailer.”

  I choked and sputtered, grabbing my napkin to cover my mouth as I gasped, “They what?”

  “The Soul Suckers Motorcycle Club. They set her trailer on fire and burned it to the ground.”

  I couldn’t believe that, but Katie certainly didn’t look as if she were joking. “Really?”

  Katie nodded. “You remember Camden and Leah?”

  A picture formed in my mind, one of friends from school. A couple I’d spent enough time around to remember well. “Yeah. Are they still together?”

  “They were. The Soul Suckers burned his house too. Leah died in the fire.”

  My stomach dropped. I remembered them both from high school—they’d hung out a lot at the Kennard house because of Camden’s friendship with the twins. Leah had always been kind and polite, a little quiet but a woman with a huge smile for the people she cared about.

  And they’d murdered her.

  That had to be what Bishop had meant the day before when he’d said there’d been trouble. He hadn’t wanted me alone and in the woods, not because he was being an overbearing ass, but because there was real danger lurking out there.

  I was an idiot. “When did all this happen?”

  “Started a few weeks ago. Alder sort of went a little heavy-handed after the fires. He’s had the town on lockdown to keep everyone as safe as he can. I had to fight to stay open, though I’m not sure it’s worth the hours I put in, you know? When the mill guys come in, they come in groups. The rest of the time, nothing.”