by Shauna Allen
Famous last words.
Chapter Two
Rebekah
I took a breath and pushed out the back door of the casino into the humid Mississippi night after a long shift on my feet. I readjusted my purse on my shoulder and hustled across the dark employee parking lot on sore legs toward my grandpa’s truck, keys in hand, meager tips in my pocket, my heart in my throat.
I’d felt someone watching me all night. I couldn’t pinpoint who, or even what direction I felt the eyes coming from, but it was the creepiest sensation. I was half convinced it was my wild imagination and one too many horror movies, but someone had tampered with my locker in the breakroom tonight and gone through my stuff. When I’d reported it to my sleazy boss, Glenn, of course he said there was nothing he could do. Our shitty ass casino didn’t have functioning security cameras in the employee lounge areas. Those were only for the casino floors, and they weren’t about to check an entire shift’s worth of footage when nothing appeared to be stolen.
I spun at the sound of footsteps behind me, stumbling in my too-high heels, my blonde curls whipping into my eyes.
“Shit.” I righted myself and swiped my hair back, my heart racing.
Nobody was there. Not a soul.
FuckFuckFuck.
If I screamed, no one would even hear me over the pinging and ringing of those damned slot machines.
I took another step backward toward my truck, wishing I didn’t work so late, but that’s life for a cocktail waitress in the Mississippi Delta.
I turned and ran the rest of the way, diving into the truck then slamming and locking the door. I scanned the lot as I jammed the key into the ignition and roared the old engine to life. Nobody was out there. Could I really be losing it?
I put the truck in gear and sped out of the lot, keeping an eye in my rearview mirror, making sure I was the only one leaving. As my lone headlights hit the highway, I breathed a sigh of relief and my shoulders relaxed. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe it was nothing. I was exhausted. That had to be it. Grandpa’s failing health meant more than a few sleepless nights and a whole lot of worry, plus I was pulling nights at the casino and mornings at the diner to make ends meet—obviously all that combined was taking a toll.
A little while later, I pulled into the tiny, weed-lined driveway of our home and parked. Our neighbor, Mrs. Clancy, stayed with Grandpa when I had to work, and she’d left the porch light on for me. If I was really lucky, she’d also left some dinner.
I grabbed my purse and jogged up the rickety front steps. Inside, Mrs. Clancy was snoring softly in Grandpa’s recliner, the TV muted on an infomercial. I touched her shoulder softly and her eyes fluttered open.
“Hi,” I whispered.
She smiled sleepily. “Did you have a good night at work?”
“It was fine. Thanks for staying.”
She rose on creaky knees. “You’re welcome, dear.” She shuffled toward the door with a yawn. “There’s chicken and dumplings in the fridge if you want some.”
“Thank you.” I set down my purse. “Did he eat?”
She paused and turned to me. “Not really.”
I nodded sadly. “Goodnight.”
“’Night.”
I waited until she left then kicked off my shoes and locked up behind her. I went to the kitchen, stuffed my tips into my hidden Mason jar then heated up a bowl of chicken and dumplings and inhaled it standing right over the sink, chasing it with a glass of tap water while I stared out the window at our darkened back yard, dreaming of the day I might escape this place, even as the idea showered me with guilt. This was my home. It was all I knew and Grandpa was all the family I had. I’d never leave him. Besides, where would I go? I had nothing and no one but him and this town.
I rinsed out my bowl and padded down the hall to check on my grandfather. He was sleeping soundly, his oxygen machine humming quietly beside his bed. In the dim lamplight, his skin was pale as usual, but he looked comfortable. I couldn’t help but wonder how much longer I’d have with him until the liver cancer ripped the last person I loved from my life. He still got up and around reasonably well, but the hospice nurses told me this disease was unpredictable and it could literally take a turn for the worse at any time and to be prepared . . . but how do you prepare for something like that?
You don’t, that’s how.
With a heavy sigh, I spun around to get ready for bed so I could begin another day.
~ ~
“Rebekah Anne!”
I snapped awake at my grandfather’s feeble voice calling from down the hall. I jumped out of bed and stumbled out my door.
“I’m here.” I belted my robe just as I made it to his room and found his smiling gaze on me.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes, pretty girl.”
I wilted against the doorframe with a tired grin. “You scared me, Grandpa. What’s all the hollering about?”
“I wasn’t hollering.” He grimaced and shifted himself in the bed. “Just wanted to see my girl. Now help me up. I can’t laze around here all damn day.”
I didn’t bother arguing. We both knew it would be useless. He’d always been as stubborn as an old mule and liver cancer wasn’t about to change him now. I helped him pivot his legs over the edge of the bed then slide his slippers on. I adjusted his walker in front of him then waited patiently while he stood and took slow, shuffling steps toward the bathroom.
“Do you need help?”
He shot me a glare. “I think I can manage.”
“Fine. I’ll start breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You have to eat.”
“I do not.”
I lifted a brow. We’d had this argument every day for the past week. He hated to sit home alone because Mrs. Clancy couldn’t come over until after lunch, but I refused to take him to the diner with me unless he ate something for breakfast. He could eat here or at the diner, but he had to eat something. It was our deal.
“Fine,” he relented, shoving his walker into the bathroom. “One piece of toast.”
“Fine.” I spun away, fully intending to make him two.
After we ate, I helped him dress, then we loaded up and I got to work just in time to begin my shift, settling my grandfather into his usual corner booth with a cup of coffee that he may or may not sip on, and a newspaper. He liked to feel a part of things and he enjoyed visiting with people, and honestly, I liked being able to keep an eye on him while I worked. His sweet smiles when he caught my watchful glances warmed my heart and reminded me of how much I was going to lose when he was gone.
The morning was steady with a good number of customers flowing through the diner. I’d even managed to get my grandpa to eat half a bowl of oatmeal, so overall, I was feeling pretty good, when suddenly, every cell in my body stood at attention as if the air had flooded with electricity.
The sensation of being watched covered my skin like mist and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move, though nobody else around me seemed to notice a thing as life went on as normal. I bumped into the counter as I spun around, my hand catching old Mr. Grimes’s arm for support.
He glanced up at me with puzzled eyes as I scanned the diner for anything or anyone out of the ordinary. The coffeepot gurgled pleasantly behind me, scenting the air with Folgers. Byron flipped hotcakes on the griddle in the kitchen. Yolanda, the other waitress, took Mr. Patterson’s order at table thirteen. Outside, a city bus rolled by, followed by a couple of cars, nothing suspicious . . .
Then the front door opened and my heart jumped into my throat as the tall, muscular stranger ripped off his aviator sunglasses and surveyed the diner with cool precision in two seconds flat, his light amber eyes coming to rest on me as if he’d been searching for me all along.
A hot fission of awareness slithered up my spine as he took me in with a casual sweep from head to toe. I didn’t sense an immediate threat from him, but I somehow knew he was dangerous all the same, even as he offered me a small half-
smile.
I forced myself to look away and yanked up the coffeepot to start my refill rounds.
Instead of waiting for a table, the stranger straddled a stool at the countertop like he was born to it.
Yolanda cornered me before I could step out and elbowed my ribs. “Who’s the hottie?”
I shrugged. “Probably just passing through on his way to Keesler.”
She wiggled her brows. “You’re right. Definitely military. Well, he’s in your section. Better get busy or I’m sharking him from you.”
“Have at him.”
She laughed. “Girl, I’ve got a man.” With that, she sauntered off, but not before shooting me a meaningful look from over his shoulder where he couldn’t see her.
I sighed and approached the black-haired stranger, slapping on a bright smile as I eased a menu in front of him. “Hi, I’m Rebekah. Can I get you something to drink?”
His eyes dipped to my nametag briefly then back up to my eyes. “Water would be great, Rebekah. Thanks.”
“Sure thing. I’ll go grab that while you look over the menu. If you’re interested, our breakfast special this morning is biscuits and sausage gravy with a side of hash browns.”
He tipped his head in acknowledgement and picked up the menu, but I got the distinct impression his attention was everywhere but on the food.
I moved away to get his water and refill some other customers’ coffees, still feeling his eyes on me. I glanced over my shoulder, but his gaze was trained on his menu. I’d never seen this guy around town before. Surely, this weird feeling I’d been having had nothing to do with him. A man who looked like that would have absolutely no reason to be following me around, much less rifling through my crappy casino locker. A girl like me wouldn’t even register on his radar. Talk about out of his league . . . honey, I wasn’t even mistress material. Not that I had low self-esteem. I didn’t. I knew I was pretty enough, curvy enough, smart enough. I just wasn’t ever . . . enough.
I’d also seen plenty of guys like him come through the casino with their glitzed-up girlfriends on their arms while their wives sat at home with the kids. Good-looking or rich or both, they were cocky as hell and they chewed up poor girls like me for dinner then spit us out to go home to the wives that had been groomed for them since birth.
No, thanks.
I eventually made my way back to the hot stranger and set down his water. “Did you decide what you’d like to eat or did you need a few more minutes?” I tried to keep my voice neutral, but it was so hard with the way he stared as if we knew each other.
He pushed the menu aside with one finger. “I’m good. The special is fine with two eggs, over medium.”
I glanced up. That was my grandfather’s usual order when he had an appetite. “Um, sure thing. Anything else?”
He tilted his head and studied my face closely. “I have a question.”
I swallowed. “About the menu?”
Slowly, he shook his head. “No.”
“What?”
His hand darted out and caught the sugar container on the counter before I knocked it over as I leaned his way a fraction. His gaze dipped down then back up. “Are you from around here?”
Chapter Three
Tanner
Her huge eyes blinked at me in disbelief, as if I’d asked her to wash and wax my truck. Then I realized she thought I was hitting on her.
I held up a friendly hand. “Hey, just a question. I grew up around here, but you don’t look familiar.”
Her expression softened considerably. “Oh. No. I grew up in a small town a few hours north of here.”
“Yeah? Which one?”
“Hollandale?”
I nodded. “I know it. My buddies and I went to the state park up there a couple of times in high school.”
“Really?” She leaned in toward me, though I doubt she realized it.
“Really.” I spun my water glass on the counter. “So, what brought you to Biloxi?”
“Work.” Her eyes flicked to a corner booth. I followed her gaze to an older man sitting alone, reading a newspaper. “And better hospitals.”
I turned back to her, my brow lifted. “You related to him?”
“He’s my grandfather.”
I mentally catalogued that little tidbit. We did not have that info on her in our file. We had very little, actually. Her birthdate, current address, places of employment, credit history, and that was it. No criminal past other than a speeding ticket, no marriages, no court proceedings, no family ties that we could find. With Tex out of pocket, we were like kindergarteners searching through college text books. Lost.
She cleared her throat and stood straight, obviously shocked she’d said so much to a stranger.
I offered her my best smile and my hand. “I’m Tanner, by the way. Nice to meet you.”
She hesitated a moment, then wiped her palm on the towel at her waist and took my hand. “You, too.”
“Looks like I might be in town a little while,” I hedged. “It’s nice to know a friendly face.”
A sweet flush filled her cheeks. “Are you in town for business?”
“You could say that.”
She took me in, pausing momentarily on the aviators next to my hand. “Air Force?”
I lifted a brow. “Excuse me?”
Her soft smile was sweet as candy. “You look like you could be military. Keesler Air Base is just up the road.” She shrugged. “Just a guess.”
“Oh.” I shifted uncomfortably. “Uh, no, I’m not in the Air Force—”
Before I could say more, a bell chimed behind her, signaling a finished plate as the cook slid it up beneath the warmer. She glanced over her shoulder. “Oh. I guess I should get back to work.”
“Of course.”
I watched her walk away and serve the food, her blonde curls bouncing around her face. She really was a knock-out. Cuter in person than her photos, with a vulnerability shining in her eyes that made me want to wrap her up in my arms and rescue her from this Godforsaken town, but something told me she’d never go for it.
I took in the small diner and its patrons. They all looked like regulars, nobody moving particularly fast or seeming unfamiliar to Rebekah or the other waitress.
Ever since I’d rolled into Biloxi late last night, I’d been fighting the demons that wanted to take over my mind, the memories that wanted to take over. I wouldn’t go there again. I’d gone too far to let them back in. This was just another town on the Mississippi Delta to me now. I had no family here anymore, hell, my old house wasn’t even standing any longer. There was nothing to ever point to the fact that I’d ever set foot on these haunted grounds—other than my own nightmares.
~ ~
I prolonged my breakfast as long as I possibly could, taking my time and watching every move of every person in and out of that diner for at least an hour and a half as I took my time over three glasses of water and most of a newspaper.
Finally, I couldn’t avoid it any longer, and I had to pay my bill or look like a loiterer. I left Rebekah a hefty tip and made my way toward the restroom. On my way out, I passed by her grandfather as he read the sports page I’d just perused.
I paused by his booth. “Looks like Ole Miss is gonna recruit that Baumann kid from Biloxi High School.”
Wrinkled eyes, nearly as startling blue as his granddaughter’s lifted to mine. He assessed me in one decisive sweep, apparently deeming me acceptable since I knew a thing or two about Ole Miss ball. “Looks like it.” He set the paper aside. “Now if their coach will get his head out of his ass and start running the option, we might stand a chance.”
I shifted my weight with a smile. “True, but I think he likes his head up his ass.”
He smiled. “What’s your name, young man?”
I offered him a hand. “Tanner Richardson, sir.”
“James Lloyd.” He nodded to the opposite side of the booth. “Have a seat?”
Different last name than Rebekah. Interesting. Menta
l note. I nodded and sat down, accepting the extra mug and carafe of coffee he slid my way as if we were old friends. He must hang out here often if he had his own set up, but I wasn’t complaining. This was the perfect way to keep an eye on my target. “Thanks.”
I added one sugar and stirred while he regaled me with tales of his time at Ole Miss and how he’d coach the team if numbnuts weren’t around—his words—all while keeping all movement in the diner in my direct line of sight. No one was in or out without me seeing them.
James moved to refill his cup, but only a few drops dripped into his mug. “Rebekah Anne!” he hollered.
A few seconds later, she popped over. “Yes—?” Her smile fell with her words the moment she noticed me sitting there with him. “You?”
I shrugged. “What can I say? I found a kindred spirit that loves Ole Miss.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh no. You shouldn’t have said anything. He’ll talk your ears off about football if you let him.”
“It’s fine.” My eyes skated over her shoulder as a dark-haired man walked in who seemed out of place. I sat up taller, waiting to see what he’d do. He slid onto my vacated stool and smiled at the other waitress. I relaxed when she seemed to recognize him. I turned back to her. “I’m enjoying all my new friends.”
This seemed to flummox her a bit, but she covered well and faced her grandfather again. “You boys need more coffee?”
“Yes, please.” He moved the carafe toward her. “Thank you, pretty girl.”
As soon as she walked away, he looked straight at me. “She’s a sweet thing and I love her, but she worries too much.”
Alarm bells began to sound in my mind. “Worries about what?”
“Everything. Things that go bump in the night. Money. You name it . . . but mostly she worries about me.”
I homed in on the things that go bump in the night comment, but I knew I couldn’t pry without telling them why I was there and I wasn’t quite ready to do that just yet. Instead, I sipped my coffee and played it cool. “I’m sure most good granddaughters worry about their grandfathers. She loves you.”
“Yes, she does, but I’m dying and she can’t fix that and it’s eating her up inside.” He coughed and cleared his throat. “She’s had a rough life, my Rebekah. I just want her to be happy.”
