Spectrum

by MJ Duncan

  Also by MJ Duncan

  Second Chances

  Veritas

  Begin Reading

  Table of Contents

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 by MJ Duncan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without prior written permission from the author.

  Cover art © 2015 MJ Duncan

  One

  Bryn Nakamura stopped her horse at the top of the hill and folded her hands on the pommel of her saddle as she looked out over her beloved Spectrum. Rows of vines stretched down the hillside, verdant leafy boughs protectively shielding small clusters of grapes that, in a few months’ time, would swell and be ready for harvest. Mount Hood’s silhouette stood strong against an azure sky in the distance, and she closed her eyes as she sucked a deep breath and held it, letting the fresh air cleanse her soul.

  This was what she loved. This view. These smells. The sound of crickets chirping in the brush and the rustle of the wind through the leaves. With every breath, the stress that she had brought with her back to Southern Washington faded to dim flashes of hurt and disappointment.

  She went through this routine four times a year. A too-short plane trip to Boston, followed by four days of being told, time and again, what she should be doing with her life and how she needed to “sell that ridiculous scrap of land in the middle of nowhere” and accept her role as heir to the family empire. It was exhausting trying to please the people who had never shown any shred of pride in anything she accomplished, while also remaining steadfast in her decision to defy their demands and keep following her dreams.

  But she knew, as she opened her eyes to gaze upon her vineyard, that she had made the right choice. This was where she belonged.

  The sound of hooves clopping quietly against the dirt behind her told Bryn that she was no longer alone, and she smiled as she turned toward her oldest and dearest friend. She had met Kendall when they were just fourteen years old and assigned as roommates at Emma Willard School in Upstate New York. Twenty-six years later, Kendall was the only person in Bryn’s life who had ever remained steadfastly by her side, and she was grateful for the fact that Kendall always made sure to be at Spectrum whenever she returned from a trip back home. Kendall had been the one to support her when she rebelled against her parents’ expectations and moved west, and she was the only person in Bryn’s life who truly understood how much she loved this vineyard and the sanctuary it provided.

  Kendall pushed her hair off her forehead and stared into the distance. “That view never gets old, does it?”

  “No. It really does not,” Bryn murmured. “Thank you.”

  “Of course. So…Boston?”

  Bryn shook her head. “Boston will still be there when I’m called back for the next round of quarterly meetings. Tell me about what I missed here.”

  “Not a lot.” Kendall shrugged. “I mean, the weather was kinda shitty, just rainy and gross—which was probably great for your vineyard, but sucked for the rest of us.”

  Bryn chuckled. “Sorry?”

  “Apology accepted.” Kendall smiled. “Let’s see…what else? The Thorns won, which was great, I picked up two new cases that are going to be cakewalks, and I am seriously contemplating cutting off all my hair again.”

  Bryn arched a brow in surprise. Not at Kendall contemplating a new style—she tended to change her hairstyle a few times a year on average—but because it seemed like it was only a few months ago that she had been constantly complaining about what a pain it was to grow her hair out. “Really?”

  “Yeah. I miss having it short. It was so easy, and I looked badass in a suit with it like that.”

  “You look incredible in a suit regardless of your hairstyle.”

  “Aww, thanks, gorgeous.” Kendall blew Bryn a kiss. “You look pretty good in those breeches, yourself.”

  Bryn rolled her eyes. “Thank you.”

  Kendall laughed. “One of these years I’m going to get you to take a compliment without looking so embarrassed.”

  “I somehow doubt that,” Bryn muttered.

  “I don’t. But, back to me, because I am more important—” Kendall winked, “—I think the powerful bitch look is a good one now that I’ve made partner. Kinda like what’s-her-name from House of Cards.”

  “Robin Wright?” Bryn pursed her lips thoughtfully and looked at Kendall. Tall, blonde, and beautiful by anyone’s definition—even when she was wearing something as simple as jeans and a T-shirt like she was now—Kendall Parker was the kind of woman who turned the heads of both men and women wherever she went. “I mean, you can definitely pull it off…”

  “You wanna do it with me?” Kendall asked, waving a hand at Bryn’s inverted bob.

  Bryn huffed a laugh and ran a hand through her hair. “No, thank you. I like my hair the way it is.”

  “You’re no fun.”

  “Yes, I’m well aware of that,” Bryn retorted, only half-jokingly as she looked back down the hill.

  Her eyes went wide as she watched a white sports car on the two-lane road below suddenly swerve to the left before the driver’s instincts kicked in a little too forcefully, overcorrecting the car’s path and sending it veering hard to the right before it quite literally went flying off the side of the road.

  She watched in horror as the car soared over the narrow ditch that ran between her vineyard and the blacktop, and she grit her teeth at the sound of the car tearing through the first five rows of trellises. Even from a distance, she could hear the sound of metal crunching, the screech of the trellis wires scratching over the car’s hood and sides, and the sickening snap of trunk after trunk as her beloved vines buckled beneath the car’s onslaught.

  She did not spare Kendall a glance as she kicked her heels into her horse’s sides, leaning forward in her saddle as Morgana bolted into action, barreling down the hill at a full gallop. Her pulse matched the heavy thud of Morgana’s hooves against the dirt service road, and her gaze narrowed, clouding with red as she saw, truly saw, the damage the sports car had wrought. Ten-year old trunk snapped like twigs. Pieces of trellises lying in splintered sections along the ground, framing the car’s destructive path. Wires that had supported the vines were snapped in two, unable to withstand the force of the impact. And covering it all like a burial shroud, were leafy vines thick with marble-sized grapes.

  She saw nothing but the damage to her precious crops as she pulled Morgana to a halt and vaulted out of the saddle, her blood boiling with barely-controlled rage as her gaze finally landed on the person responsible. The woman, who was wearing a pair of faded jeans slung low on her hips and a red and blue plaid flannel that was rolled at the sleeves and hung open over a heather gray shirt, looked like she was barely out of college. Her chestnut-colored hair was pulled back into a french braid, and her bright blue eyes were wide with either fear or lingering shock over what had just happened.

  If it was shock, however, Bryn gave the woman no time to recover.

  After a week of biting her tongue and silently taking whatever judgments were thrown upon her, it felt good to be angry, and she did not bother to try and contain it as she strode purposefully up to the woman. She did not stop until they were toe-to-toe, and she lifted her chin to glare at her as she waved a hand at the destruction that surrounded them. The woma
n flinched ever-so-slightly in the face Bryn’s anger but held her ground, and a dark, dangerous smirk twisted Bryn’s lips as she leaned in just a little bit closer.

  “What did you do?”

  Two

  “It was an accident.”

  Bryn scoffed derisively. “I would bloody well hope so, Ms. …”

  “Fitzpatrick. Anna Fitzpatrick. Look, lady…” Anna began to protest, but stopped at the sound of one of her companions moaning softly behind her.

  Bryn’s anger faltered for a moment as she finally noticed that there were, in fact, two other people present, and she set her jaw as she watched Anna turn back to her friends. The man was tall and muscled, with rugged features and brown hair clipped close to his head, and he had his arm around another woman who was leaning heavily into his side. Her black hair was cut short, her bangs swept off to the side in a way that flattered her round face and oval eyes, and Bryn’s stomach twisted uncomfortably when she noticed the blood that was seeping from a gash on her forehead.

  Anna and the man helped the injured woman down to the ground. They spoke softly as Anna examined the wound and peered into the woman’s eyes. After more hushed conversation, Anna held up a finger and moved it back and forth in front of the injured woman’s face, and Bryn knew from her own experience that she was checking for a concussion. When she was done, Anna stripped off her flannel and handed it to the man, and Bryn heard her tell him, “Press this to the cut to help with the bleeding.”

  “Will your friend be okay?” Bryn asked when Anna faced her again.

  “Yeah, she should be.” Anna ran a hand over her forehead and sighed. “Look, Ms. …?”

  “Nakamura.” Bryn smirked at the surprise that flashed across Anna’s face at her surname. She might have inherited her jet-black hair and small build from her Japanese father, but her fair skin and cognac-colored eyes were courtesy of her English mother, and she had long since gotten used to people expecting her to have a more Anglicized surname. “Now, Ms. Fitzpatrick,” she continued without missing a beat, determined to control the conversation, “can you please explain to me what your vehicle is doing in the middle of my vineyard?”

  “It was an accident.”

  Bryn rolled her eyes and focused on the anger that was still thrumming in her veins. Anger kept her focused, determined, and strong, and she needed every ounce of it now as she dealt with what seemed like one indignity too many after the week she had just suffered. “Yes, you’ve said that already.”

  “Well, I don’t know what else you’d like me to say,” Anna shot back, waving a frustrated hand at her car. “I mean, it’s not like I did this on purpose! I have insurance.”

  Bryn shook her head, her fists clenching and unclenching at her sides as she looked over the ruined mess that surrounded them. “This isn’t something you can just throw money at to make it all better. You can’t just magically replace everything you destroyed!”

  Anna’s friend moaned again, and Bryn set her hands on her hips as Anna turned away from her for a moment to check on her. When their gazes locked again, there was a fire in Anna’s eyes that made Bryn’s pulse jump.

  “Look, Nakamura,” Anna said, a steely edge creeping into her tone that made Bryn’s hackles rise. “I understand that you’re pissed about the damage this accident has done to your crops, but her health—” she pointed at her friend, “—is more important than some ruined fruit. So why don’t you just back off for five minutes, let us get her taken care of, and then we will see about getting a police report filed and I’ll get you my insurance information, okay?”

  Bryn shook her head. “This is not about some ruined fruit,” she growled, lifting herself up onto the balls of her feet and leaning into Anna so that they were finally eye-to-eye as her next words crashed violently against Anna’s lips. “You did not take out a cornfield or something equally simple, Ms. Fitzpatrick. You tore through my vineyard. I do not plant these vines every year. These vines that you see littering the ground around us are ten years old—that means ten years of work went into helping them grow, shaping them, nurturing them to the point that they were just entering their peak years of production…”

  “Well this certainly isn’t something you see every day,” Kendall’s voice called out, interrupting the remainder of Bryn’s scathing attack. Bryn turned to glower at Kendall, who was sitting atop her horse at the edge of the scene. Kendall’s expression was concerned, but her tone light as she added, “Bryn, why didn’t you tell me you started growing Audis?”

  Bryn bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head. If there was one thing she could count on, it was that Kendall would say something totally ridiculous at the most inopportune times to diffuse her anger. And she needed her anger right now. She abhorred showing weakness of any kind, and she would be damned if she let Anna Fitzpatrick see exactly how much the sight of her ruined vines affected her. “That would be because I am not growing Audis, Kendall.”

  Kendall smirked, and Bryn rolled her eyes. The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance, signaling that help was on its way. Anna turned to her companions, and the man said with a shrug, “I called it in.”

  “Good,” Anna murmured. “She needs to get to the hospital,” she said, tipping her head at their friend.

  Kendall’s eyes widened as she noticed the blood on the injured woman’s face, and she slid elegantly from her saddle, holding her reins in her right hand as she reached for Morgana’s with her left in case the mare spooked at the noise. “Is she okay?”

  “She should be,” Anna said, giving Kendall a nod and a tight smile. The sirens grew louder, and she glanced in the direction of the ambulance that was now only a few hundred yards away.

  Kendall nodded. “What happened?”

  “It was an accident,” Anna answered in a frustrated tone.

  “I would imagine so,” Kendall chuckled as she eyed the sports car’s paper plates emblazoned with the name of a dealership from nearby Portland. “I mean, nobody purposefully drives a brand new car into a vineyard for a good time.”

  “Yeah, well, it definitely hasn’t been a good time.” Anna watched the ambulance pull to a stop at the spot where her car had careened off the road, and turned her attention back to her friend. “The ambulance is here, sweetie. You want us to call Thom and have him meet you at the hospital?”

  The woman hummed softly. “Time is it?”

  Anna glanced at the chunky steel diver’s watch on her left wrist. “It’s a quarter to five.”

  “Text him,” the woman insisted. “He’s in a meeting with his boss until six.”

  “He’s gonna kick my ass if I just text him,” Anna argued.

  “Fitz,” the woman argued. “Just do it.”

  The wrinkle of worry between Anna’s sculpted eyebrows said that she did not agree with her friend’s orders, but she sighed and nodded. “Okay, fine.”

  Bryn took a small step back as she watched a paramedic in a crisp navy blue uniform scamper down the hill with a bright red bag slung across his chest, and she shook her head when Anna greeted him by name.

  Her gaze drifted to one of the battered trunks beside her as Anna and the paramedic tended to her friend, and she sighed as she dropped to a crouch in front of it. She trailed her fingers over the trunk, feeling the rough wood that grabbed almost desperately at her skin as if begging for her help, and she bit her lip to try and stem the tears that sprang to her eyes. It had been one of the first to take the brunt of the Audi’s assault, which meant that it was completely beyond repair. This vine, and the ones surrounding it, including those that lay in pieces around her, were among the first she had personally planted when she had bought the property that would become Spectrum Vineyards ten years ago.

  She sucked a deep breath in through her nose as she envisioned the work it would take to heal her vineyard; the amount of time and attention that would be required to make sure the new vines took root and blossomed. She fingered the splintered trunk in front of her, wishing she cou
ld magically repair the damage Anna’s car had wrought, and shook her head as she looked over at the small group making its way up the gentle berm to the road where the ambulance was now joined by a police cruiser and a tow truck.

  Bryn brushed her hands off on the seat of her cream-colored breeches as she pushed herself back to her feet, the heels of her black leather knee-high riding boots sinking into the soft earth as she adjusted her stance. She watched Anna stand helplessly by as her friend was rolled into the back of the ambulance, and was relieved to see that the officer who had arrived on scene was already taking pictures of the damage.

  “And it had been such a nice day,” Bryn muttered darkly under her breath.

  “Yeah, well, it ain’t over yet,” Kendall said.

  “Unfortunately not.” Bryn watched as the paramedic slammed the bay doors of the ambulance closed before he turned to say something to Anna, and then a moment later the brunette was hopping over the narrow drainage ditch.

  Bryn took a deep breath as she watched Anna approach. Anna’s steps were slow, her shoulders slumped, and her expression resigned. The events of the accident had clearly caught up to her, but Bryn could not find it in herself to care. Anna Fitzpatrick had brought this on herself, it was not her job to make the woman feel better about it.

  “I am sorry about all this,” Anna said as she stopped in front of Bryn and Kendall.

  Bryn nodded and, when Kendall’s elbow landed lightly in her side, said, “I know.”

  Anna sighed. “Yeah. Look…”

  “Do you have your insurance information?”

  “It’s in my glove box.” Anna looked back at her wrecked car. “I’ll go get it.”

  “Jesus, Bryn, give the girl a break, why don’t you,” Kendall muttered once Anna was out of earshot.