Chasing Wicked
Kathryn L. James
Chasing Wicked © 2017 by Kathryn L. James
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All rights reserved. No part of the publication may be reproduced, transmitted, in any form, or by any means includes but not limited to, electronic, mechanical, downloading, photocopying, or recording without the prior written consent of the author of this book. Except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.
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Cover Design by Taylor Sullivan/Imagination Uncovered
Copyediting by Editing by C. Marie
Formatting by Violet Haze
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
All rights reserved. This book is for your personal enjoyment. This book may not be re-sold or given to other people. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
Dedication
To the love of my life and best friend, Mr. James. I am beyond blessed. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your support, patience, and love.
Contents
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
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter 1
Find peace and embrace it.
My sweet Dovie whispered those words of wisdom in my ear as she hugged me goodbye after a nice visit a few weeks ago. It was a nice idea, but I knew I’d never find it; I’d given up on that a long time ago.
Sitting at a complete standstill on the interstate with nothing but rows of red taillights all around me, I glanced over to the passenger seat and stared at the legal-size envelope. Excited beyond measure, I hoped I did find some joy, happiness, and the peace she wished upon me.
Passing time, I turned up the radio and adjusted the AC vent until cool air blew directly in my face. Miles of traffic at a dead stop gave me nothing but time to think. I sang along to “Sweet Home Alabama”, grinning at the thought of finally having the summer off—no annoying alarm clock, no papers to grade, and zero rainy-day bus duty.
Thanks to Dovie, the kindest woman on the face of the earth, I was headed for a week of pure rest and relaxation. The envelope contained detailed information about her beach house, a list of nearby restaurants, and important numbers. She’d even included that Monday and Thursday were the days for trash pickup.
Dovie Mitchell was the closest thing I’d ever had to a grandmother, since mine were deceased. During spring break, I had stopped in to see her on the way home to visit my parents; she lived right next door to the house I grew up in. Like she did every time I visited, she met me at the screen door, and that day, she greeted me wearing a sly grin and saying, “There’s my girl.” She’d always made me feel special.
We sat on the white wooden porch swing enjoying the cool April afternoon, sipping on her ‘special recipe’ lemonade. I knew her secret ingredients only because I’d once caught her doubling the sugar, adding a dab of pink coloring, and sneaking in a few drops of almond extract.
“I have a little something for you.” She reached under the red and white toile cushion, retrieved an envelope, untwisted the metal fasteners, and handed me a small stack of papers.
There was a map of a subdivision, driving directions, pictures, and several other papers clipped together.
“Dovie, are you kidding me? I can’t—”
“Stop it right there, missy. When we spoke on the phone and you mentioned you were not teaching summer school, I made up my mind to send you to Dovie’s Sandcastle. This is the first summer you’ve taken off in five years. You spend all your time off coming back home, always dropping in to see me. I’m glad you come, but nonetheless, it’s high time you did something for yourself. I insist you spend as much time as you want at the beach house.”
“What about Chad, Garrett, or…Stone? They don’t plan to spend some time there?”
“Humph. I was leasing it out through a realtor, and the boys tried to discourage me from rebuilding after Hurricane Ike devastated the entire area, destroying the house in its path. They thought I should sell what the storm left—a vacant lot.” A sadness filled her eyes. “John Frank and I met on that very beach just in front of the bungalow sixty-two years ago this summer. On our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, he surprised me with the deed to the place. We’d planned on retiring there, but life doesn’t always let you follow your dreams…” She placed her hand over mine. “Go, Avery. Enjoy my little place of happiness and make wonderful memories.”
“Oh Dovie.”
“It’s a magical place. Something good always happens there.”
“Okay, on one condition: let me pay you a rental fee.”
“Don’t insult me child, and don’t be rude. I’ll only accept a smile and a hug from my favorite girl.”
I grinned ear to ear. “Favorite girl, because all the Mitchells are boys.”
Her lips curved into a smile and her eyes shined brilliantly. I loved her more than words could ever express, but guilt threatened to dampen the moment—guilt because I couldn’t share everything in my life with the one person who would be most understanding.
A honking vehicle behind my sedan jerked me back to the here and now; all the lanes of traffic had already moved forward. The rest of the drive went without hiccups until the DJ on the radio started talking about the expected storm that promised a large amount of rain over the next twenty-four hours along with strong winds carrying the possibility of isolated tornados.
I’d never been afraid of storms. When I chose a college in Oklahoma, my parents cringed, worried that I would rather chase storms than study to be a teacher. They never understood my infatuation with churning winds, beautiful violent clouds, and the force of nature—and honestly, I didn’t really understand it either.
That is, until Stone Mitchell. He’d taught me that, as an F5 tornado destroys everything in its path, so does love.
Dots of rain fell onto the windshield as I headed down the highway running along the Gulf of Mexico. My cell phone rang and Dovie’s name lit up the screen.
“Hi there.”
“Hello Avery girl. I saw there’s a nasty storm coming your way and just wanted to make sure you made it okay.”
“According to my GPS, I’m less than five miles from the house.”
“You’ll be safe, but honey listen, you’ll probably be stranded on the peninsula for a few days. Water sometimes crosses the only highway into Port Bolivar and the ferry to Galveston will close during the winds. I had the house stocked with everything you’ll need. I promise this won’t last more than a day or two.”
“I brought plenty of books and who knows, maybe I’ll catch a Grey’s Anatomy marathon.”
“I hope you find peace there.”
She either hung up or we lost connection before I could reply, which was fine because I didn’t actually have anything to say. I didn’t have peace, nor would I ever—her grandson had made sure of that six years before.
I followed the GPS directions, turning left, right, and left again until it announced that I had ‘arrived at destination’. Lights lit up the first floor of the two-story home, and a dark-colored Jeep was parked on the concrete drive. I slid the gearshift into reverse, slowly backing up to verify the numbers on the siding of the house.
“Better be the cleaning service,” I muttered to myself, eyeing the clock. At nine forty-eight PM, I doubted any such luck; I sure hoped there hadn’t been a mix-up with the realtor and the house hadn’t been rented to someone else.
The balmy, salty breeze mixing with the fragrance of rain made me take a deep breath, and the sounds of waves lapping on the sand made me eager for a nice morning jog instead of my usual workout in the dance studio. I retrieved my suitcase containing necessity items to get through the night and took off for the steps leading upstairs. Halfway to the deck, music permeated the air, mixing with distant thunder.
Walls of windows lined the entire beachfront side of the house, but closed shutters prevented me from seeing anything. Instead of knocking, I slid the key into the lock and slowly turned the knob. My heart tripped in my chest.
I didn’t have to see him—I immediately knew the voice singing along to some tune I didn’t recognize. Across the spacious living area stood the man I hated, the boy I had loved. He stirred something in a large pot, and steam billowed in the air as a hint of Cajun spice filled my senses.
Stone Mitchell—my worst nightmare.
The muscles of his back rippled against his tight-fitting black t-shirt like he’d been molded into it. He had thick brown hair that was made of silk, softer than silk…my hands remembered exactly how soft.
In a complete stupor, I let go of the handle of the suitcase, causing it to crash against the tiled floor. He spun around, tossed a dish towel over his shoulder, and froze mid-spin. Icy topaz eyes met my disgusted glare head on.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he bit out.
“Stone…” My heart screamed for me to bolt, but I didn’t take a single step.
“I asked you what the hell you’re doing here.” He tossed the kitchen towel across the countertop and folded his arms across this chest.
“I-I’m supposed to be here. Why are you here?”
“This is the last place you’re supposed to be.”
This had to be the most jacked-up karma in the world. Nausea rolled into the pit of my stomach and my nails dug into the palms of my hand. The cocky bastard wore the same expression he’d worn all those years ago.
“Dovie sent me.” My voice was barely above a whisper.
“Why the hell would my grandmother send you to my house?”
Behind him, foamy liquid spilled over the rim of the stockpot, filling the room with popping sounds as the contents ran onto the burner and sizzled. “Shit!” He whirled around, quickly moving it.
My mind formulated a hundred different scenarios to rationalize what was happening, but one thought screamed louder than the rest: Get the hell out of here. I seized the opportunity, grabbed my bag, and ran like hell. Bolting out of the house, I took the steps off the deck two at a time, my suitcase bouncing all around behind me.
Halfway down, wind whipping my hair against my face, I heard the door slam above then heavy footsteps closing in behind me. Sheets of rain blew underneath the house, stinging my skin. Adrenaline fueled my feet as I reached the sedan’s door handle, seconds away from leaving the biggest mistake of my life behind.
“Why are you here? No way did Gammy send you here,” he called out as he kept walking toward me like a predator.
“I’m here because she offered me this place for the summer. I don’t know… She didn’t send me here knowing you were here.” She couldn’t have. My Dovie would never have done that to me…or to him.
Only steps away, he showed no sign of stopping, so I spun back around to make my great escape. He caged in my body against the car, not touching me, but so close that if I moved at all, I would land against either his arms or chest. He pressed the frame of the door closed.
“Get away from me. I’m leaving, and I just want to forget I ever saw you.”
“Liar. You won’t forget. I don’t think you’ve ever forgotten…” He leaned in closer, stopping when his mouth was against my ear. “You’ve never forgotten how you whispered my name into my ear, over and over again.”
His words repulsed me. I hated him.
“I remember you being the biggest mistake of my life.”
“Turn around.”
“Go to hell.”
“I earned my free ticket to hell a long time ago. Turn around, Avery.”
The way my name rolled off his tongue caused my breath to catch; it always had. I despised the fact that he still possessed the power to make my traitorous body react. He was and always would be toxic. Forbidden. Poison. I’d had a taste, and it had nearly killed me. Now, I knew better than to bite the apple.
He pressed his chest against my back, and old memories trespassed into my mind. No matter how hard I’d tried, I’d never forgotten the last night we’d spent together. Under an audience of a million twinkling stars, we had slept on a blanket on the edge of Cotton Wilson’s private lake. That night had been beautiful. Perfect. Two days later, Stone was long gone, and thanks to social media and gossiping texts, the people in my small community knew why before I did.
“Leave me alone,” I whispered.
“I can’t do that. There’s a bad storm coming with high winds and a lot of rain. I know for a fact that the only two motels are full, and by now the ferry has already closed.”
There had to be somewhere else for me to stay. A shelter. A church. Hell, even in my car. Another large gust of wind sailed through the air, knocking over the trash bin by the driveway and causing a piece of some sort of metal to blow down the street.
He placed his hand on my upper arm in a gentle touch. “Come inside, Avery, before you end up getting hurt.”
Before I moved an inch, I had to know. “Does Dovie know you’re here?”
“Since I own the place, I’m certain she knows I frequent it.”
Piece by piece, everything fell into place. My sweet Dovie had planned this. She and I had only had one conversation about what happened that summer, and I’d made her promise to never bring it up again. I couldn’t bear it, and the pain inflicted on my heart by her own blood kept me from sharing anything that mattered.
I leaned against his chest and pushed him away before yanking on the door handle. His strong hand braced the door, preventing it from budging.
“Avery, you can’t leave.”
“Let. Go. Of. The. Door.”
“I’m a bastard, but not that big of a bastard. Gammy adores you and she’d never speak to me again if I allowed you to be in any danger. When it’s safe, you can go.”
“There’s no way I can stay here.”
“And there’s no way you can leave. With this wind and the high tide, water has already crossed the highway that’s the only way out of here. If it makes you feel better, I don’t want you here any more than you want to be here. We’ll keep this simple: we’ll avoid one another. You’ll sleep downstairs, and I’ll be far away from you upstairs.”
He pulled the car keys fr
om my hand, grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and rolled it toward the stairs, dismissing the subject. Something inside me exploded into flames. Pent-up raging anger poured from every cell within my body, and I trembled like a leaf in the turbulent wind.
“You slept with my mother! My mother! And you expect me to stay in the same house as you?”
Chapter 2
Stone remained with his back to me as I lost my shit, completely hysterical. His shoulders and rippled back heaved as he drew in haggard deep breaths. He whipped his head over his shoulder, nostrils flaring, fury blazing from his glare.
“Don’t. Go. There.”
“Why not? Did you forget? I sure as hell didn’t! You—”
He threw up his finger, pointing it directly at my face. “I let that shit go a long time ago. That subject is fucking closed!”
“You destroyed my family and left town, went back to college, made quarterback, and ate off the silver spoon you were born with while I watched my family crumble—all because of you.”
“Just like that, all of it is my fault? Maybe your mother wasn’t as innocent as you and everyone in West Tempie thought! Maybe hot little Georgina followed me inside the barn with a plan and dropped her pants, eager to fuck me! Hell, the worst part about it is I was drunk off my ass and can’t remember if she was any good—now that’s a fucking waste.”
Chasing Wicked (The Mitchell Brothers - Wicked Series Book 1) Page 1
