I’d make sure there was no possibility of another resurrection.
Chapter 8
Jeremy caught the end of the bat. His eyes were wide and he stumbled back from the force of Chelsea’s blow. His palm stung from the contact. She could have broken his finger, and, Jesus, it seemed she was trying to kill him.
When she realized the bat was no longer a viable weapon, she threw herself at him, taking them both to the floor. They landed in a heap of legs and arms, and then she lifted her fist. If he wasn’t careful, she was going to break his nose like she had back in high school, when she’d claimed she “accidentally” hit him with a baseball in gym class.
“Chels!”
She froze, breathing heavily, blinking, straddling his body. After she focused on him, she frowned, her face flushed with exertion and adrenaline. “Jeremy?”
“Yeah. It’s me.” He held his hands out, showing her he wasn’t a threat, because she was still in fight mode, and it would take her a second to come down. “What happened?”
“I thought you were Richard.”
“Richard is in jail,” he said slowly.
Chelsea slid to the side to sit and bring up her knees, burying her face in her arms. “Yeah, and he was dead before, but he came back, didn’t he? Why would jail stop him when a bullet didn’t?”
She had a point. For the first time, he registered the mess in their bedroom and, given all the other weird shit that had happened, Jeremy was officially worried. If Richard had somehow managed to escape prison or if the cartel was back in their lives…he pushed off the floor in one smooth motion. “Stay here. Keep the bat. Call 911 if you hear fighting.”
She sat up. “Jer—”
He was gone before she had a chance to finish his name. The chances of Richard being in their inn were slim to none, but when it came to Chelsea’s safety, there was no such thing as being too careful. After a quick search of the inn, Jeremy concluded that nothing was broken, stolen, or out of place. And yet…
Someone had been here.
He could feel it.
Chelsea wasn’t the type to panic over nothing, so if she thought she was in danger, then he believed her. Someone was messing with his girl, and that meant he needed to make sure that Richard was still locked away behind bars.
Jeremy headed back to their bedroom and met Chelsea in the kitchen. She was leaning against a counter, sipping a glass of whiskey. He went to her, wrapping an arm around her hips. “I see you listened to me?”
She leaned her head against his chest, ignoring his sarcastic statement. “I didn’t hear any fighting, so I guess you didn’t find anyone?”
“No.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, dropping a gentle kiss on the top of her head. “It’s just us.”
Silently, she offered him the glass. He took a sip, welcoming the burn of the alcohol as it chased away the chill of fear. If anything happened to Chelsea…
She rubbed her cheek against his chest, letting out a soft breath. “You left the room before I could tell you, but the shelf in the closet broke. In all the mess, I found a necklace Richard gave me. I got a little crazy. But…”
“You’re not paranoid if they really are out to get you?” Jeremy said.
She pulled away, setting down the glass on the counter, and turned to face him directly. “Look, Jeremy, I know you have reasonable explanations for all the odd stuff that’s been happening, like guests using our laptops, or your junk overloading the closet shelf, or me forgetting where I left something. But I really think something’s going on. It’s like that quote from Goldfinger: ‘Once is happenstance. Twice is coincidence. The third time, it’s enemy action.’”
After taking a moment to appreciate his good fortune in having a hot fiancée who could also quote Goldfinger, Jeremy said, “While I’m pretty set on the idea that Richard is locked away and couldn’t possibly orchestrate this without the cartel—who are no longer his friends anyway—I agree that we need to be better protected. I’m going to install a security system with a live video feed. We’ll be able to keep track of every person coming in and out of here. I’ll make you feel safe again, Chels, I swear it.”
She buried her face in his chest and nodded, and he curled his hand around the back of her head. “Did you get the stuff on the list?”
He knew what she was doing. Trying to focus on the good and not the bad, which was very un-Chelsea like. “Yep. Bowl, floating candles, and stones for the bottom…and all that shit you had me get.”
She laughed.
Goal accomplished.
He kissed her forehead again, his mind going a million miles a minute. After he resigned from the DEA, he hadn’t returned to headquarters. He’d wanted to keep that part of his life in the past. Now, however, he thought it might be time to pay his old coworkers a visit to make certain he knew everything there was to know about Richard and the cartel. If Chelsea’s crazy ex was back in their lives, Jeremy would track him down and put an end to his games.…
For good.
Chapter 9
Fat snowflakes fell from the gray sky with a majestic elegance, floating and drifting before they joined the rest of their fallen comrades on the ground, until I could no longer differentiate one flake from the other. The wind was strong today, making the branches of the trees out front scrape against the windows and the siding. I stood beside the pretty “test” centerpiece Jeremy and I had made together. We’d placed it on the foyer table because Jeremy said it was too nice to waste.
I shivered, hugging myself as I stood in front of the window, watching the driveway for Jeremy’s truck, but the pristine white snow remained undisturbed. He’d gone into Bangor to hit up his old DEA office late this morning to see if he could discover anything about Richard. The snow had started earlier than they’d forecasted, and was getting heavier, too.
It was starting to look like I might be spending the night at the inn by myself. I could sleep alone. I’d done it for years and I used to prefer it. Now, though, a night without Jeremy holding me close, kissing my shoulder every once in a while…
God, I was becoming such a sap.
Sometimes, Dad would hang around long enough to give us little lessons in toughening up. O’Kane Lessons, as he called them. It might be as small as taking our favorite toy and breaking it in front of us, or as harsh as telling us our mother abandoned us because we cried too much. Either way, the effect was the same.
If he saw me now?
He’d give me a huge O’Kane Lesson. Only instead of the stuffed bunny or my mother, I’d lose something a hell of a lot more painful. Jeremy.
No matter what I had to do, I wouldn’t risk losing the guy who never let me down. A truck crept up the driveway and I smiled, but it faded when I realized that, instead of Jeremy’s blue F-150, this truck was black and the wrong make. Rubbing my arms, I squinted toward the windshield. If Paul had brought our poor excuse for a father here…
I let out a sigh of relief when he hopped out of the truck, clearly alone. The snow dusted his heavy red and black flannel coat and he hunched forward, against the wind, a gray hat pulled down over his ears. He puffed out a breath in the cold winter air, and walked up to the door, breathing into his gloveless fists. It wasn’t locked, so I waited for him to come in.
When Jeremy wasn’t home, Paul never bothered with knocking first.
“Hello?” The door opened, and he peeked inside. “Chelsea?”
I stepped forward.
He turned his head my way, grinning easily. “You’re alone.”
A fact he was very happy about. When Jeremy had re-entered my life, my brother hadn’t originally been so hostile. But as time went by, and Jeremy stuck around, Paul’s resentment grew. I didn’t know how to fix it since my version of conflict resolution involved moving away and living under an assumed name. “Yep.”
He closed the door behind him and the snowflakes on his jacket melted into dark spots. “Where’s Jeremy? Did he finally realize he doesn’t belong with the O’Kanes?
Looks like he’s run away from this wedding like he did last time.”
I stiffened, because though Paul didn’t know it, Jeremy ran out on his last bride for me. I’d been madly in love with him and he’d been about to marry the wrong girl. So we did what any rational best friends would do in that situation. We made love the night before his wedding. Then I went down to Miami for eight years. As one does.
“He went to Bangor. Not sure if he’ll be making it back tonight or not.”
“Well, Dad got released even earlier than expected. We’re going to get him right now, before the roads start to close.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, casually dropping that bomb like it wouldn’t affect me. “Get your shoes and coat. We’re already late and we haven’t even left yet.”
How very like Paul to try to con me into getting in that truck with him. “No.”
“Read this.” He pulled a folded up piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it to me. I took it out of reflex. “It might change your mind.”
I tightened my grip on it. “Is it from him?”
“Yes.”
God, if he’d put this effort into being around when I’d been a kid, maybe I wouldn’t have turned out the way I had. Maybe I wouldn’t be so cynical and close-minded. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hard for me to believe that Jeremy could love me. This gesture on his part was too little, too late.
And he had only himself to blame.
Because of him, I’d learned how to spot a bullshitter before I was out of diapers.
I shook my head and handed the note back to Paul. “If you choose to pretend he’s this great guy who is coming back to finally be a father, then knock yourself out, but I’m not getting on that roller coaster with you. I’ve been there, and as fun as it was, I prefer the Tunnel of Love now.”
His upper lip curled. “That fed made you boring.”
“No. He made me normal.”
“Like I said.” He made a whistling sound and rocked back on his heels. “Boring.”
I opened the front door, and cold wind blasted us in the face. I forced myself not to shiver. I couldn’t afford to show weakness right now. Not when my brother was staring me down. “I have wedding invitations to address, so if you don’t mind…”
“Jesus,” he muttered, eyeing the centerpiece. “He really did soften you, didn’t he? What would Dad say if he saw you now?”
“I don’t give a shit about what he’d say.”
I loved my brother and he loved me, but we would never agree about our father. I used to be more tolerant of my father’s shortcomings, but when Dad betrayed me that last time, I was done. It had been an O’Kane Lesson I never forgot. Paul hadn’t gotten his final lesson yet. Dad would fix that now that he was out. It was only inevitable he’d break Paul, too.
It sucked, but it was what it was. There was no changing history or who my crappy parents were, but I could control the future and I would choose to not be a part of my father’s life. Just like he’d chosen not to be in mine. “You want to pick him up? Go get him. But I’m not going. And nothing you say will change that.”
He stared me down, but when it became clear I wasn’t budging, he shook his head and walked past me. “You’re gonna regret this. You’re turning your back on family, and for what?”
“For me.” I touched my chest. “And before you even start pointing the finger at my fiancé, he made it very clear he’d be fine with Dad around, if that was what I wanted. This is my choice.”
Paul snorted. “Once a liar, always a liar. Guess it’s true, what they say.”
I knew better, but I couldn’t resist asking, “What’s true?”
“That all girls marry men like their fathers.”
I stiffened. “Jeremy is nothing like Dad.”
“Tell yourself that, if it helps you sleep at night. But to me, it sounds like he’s lying to you.” He shrugged and turned to face me, standing on the porch with his hands casually shoved into his jacket pockets. “I’ll tell Dad you said hi.”
“Don’t bother.”
Smiling sweetly, I slammed the door in his cocky face and locked it. Even though I tried my best to not let his words bother me, Paul won that round. I kept telling myself that Jeremy wasn’t like Dad. He was a good guy. Too good for me.
But that led me to another thought.…
What if Jeremy realized he was making a mistake marrying me? What if he ran, or, even worse, slept with someone else the night before we said our vows, like he had when he was supposed to marry Mary? Last time, I’d been the girl who ruined the wedding. This time, I’d be the one left crying at the altar. Maybe that’s what really bothered me. After all, everyone knew.…
Karma was a total bitch.
Chapter 10
Being back at his old office was weird as hell. Jeremy glanced out the window, frowning at the heavy snowfall. He’d better get moving soon, or he’d be stuck muddling through messy unplowed roads. His job here was done anyway. He’d spoken to his buddy who was in charge of the Miami case now that Jeremy was gone, and according to him, Richard was still locked away safe and sound in solitary confinement. He couldn’t be in contact with any cartel members, which meant the likelihood of him being able to mastermind this latest drama was pretty damn small.
That intel brought Jeremy right back to ground zero, but that was okay. He’d rather be stuck at zero than discover that Richard was back and going after Chelsea yet again.
Agent Walker, a former colleague of his, came up with a red-haired man at his side. “Holland! You’re back! I knew you couldn’t stay away for long.”
Jeremy laughed. “Nope, not back. Just visiting.”
“Ah.” Walker frowned. “That’s too bad.”
“Sorry. Still living the civilian life quite happily.” He eyed the other man and held his hand out. “Hi. Jeremy Holland.”
“Scott Donahue.” The man closed his hand over Jeremy’s and shook.
“New recruit?” Jeremy asked.
Walker laughed and scratched his balding head. “No.”
“I’m from Boston, just in town for some training.” The man shifted his weight to his other foot, and gave Jeremy a grin. It was charming. Too charming. Jeremy didn’t buy into it. “Then back home I go.”
Walker nodded. “He’s undercover in the city. He’s in pretty deep with a gang down there called Steel Row. Vicious stuff.”
“South side of Boston, actually,” Scotty clarified, smiling.
Jeremy nodded. “I was undercover, too, before I got out.”
“Fell in love with his assignment,” Walker said with a hint of disapproval in his tone. “You ever have that happen before, Donahue?”
Agent Donahue laughed. “Nah. I’m not a big believer in love.”
“Good. Me, either. Well, off we go,” Walker said, smiling one last time. “I’ll show you where your training officer’s desk is.”
After the men left, Jeremy’s phone vibrated, so he slid the lock screen and opened the text from Chelsea. Paul stopped by. Tried to get me to go pick up Dad. I got rid of him. All in all, a productive day. How’s yours going?
He smiled at the dry sarcasm he could hear, even in the text. Good. Richard is still in solitary and isn’t in Maine torturing us, so there’s that.
Thank God.
He tapped his finger on the desk. On the surface, this investigation looked closed. All the “events” could be excused as sheer coincidence. Not sure who else would gain something from messing with you. Maybe it’s a false alarm and we’re worrying about nothing?
Her response was immediate. My gut says otherwise.
All right. I’ll try to see if the DEA has any leads on someone who might be trafficking drugs in Hudson. Not sure which direction to go next, but I’ll figure it out.
Actually, that was a lie. He’d just lied to his fiancée.
Jeremy knew where the investigation should go next, and that was the problem. The most logical choice at this point was to go after her father. He gets an early parole,
and shit immediately starts to go wrong? It was a coincidence Jeremy couldn’t ignore, as much as he wanted to. If it was her father messing around their inn, Chelsea would be devastated.
She liked to pretend she didn’t care about the man or what he did, but Jeremy saw through that act for what it was. She still cared. His phone buzzed with her reply as his former superior approached him.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. He slipped the phone in his pocket. “Agent Thomas. Thank you for letting me stop by and visit everyone. I appreciate it.”
“We both know you weren’t visiting, so cut the crap, Holland.”
Jeremy winced. “Thank you for letting me do a little bit of poking around, then.”
“You won’t be thanking me soon,” he said, leaning against the edge of the desk. “Miller said you’re still with the O’Kane girl?”
His chest tightened, and that metaphorical anchor that he carried all the damn time got a little heavier. “Yeah. We’re getting married soon. Why?”
“If you’re marrying into that family?” His former boss twisted his lips. “Then you’re coming to dinner with me. We need to talk.”
Chapter 11
The wood floor was cold against my ankles and the fire crackled in the fireplace, adding a warmth to the air that Mother Nature was doing her best to freeze. I readjusted myself on the pillow I’d placed on the floor between the coffee table and the couch. Then I rolled my neck in a circular motion until it cracked. Leaning back against the couch, I let out a long sigh as I dropped the calligraphy pen I’d been holding in between my aching fingers onto the table. It rolled off.
I let it.
I had worked my ass off at perfecting the calligraphy and I studied the results with a critical eye. I noticed the l was slightly crooked, so I picked up the envelope, ripped it in half, and then tossed it with the other messed-up ones on the floor. I’d been hunched over for the last hour, addressing wedding invitations while I waited to hear the familiar sound of tires crunching over snow and gravel to mark Jeremy’s return. The sun had descended hours ago, but the snowfall showed no signs of slowing down. The later it got, the more worried I became about Jeremy trying to make it home. The roads in Maine could be treacherous in icy weather.
A Wedding in Maine Page 4
