by Cassia Leo
I have spent hours on the phone with them and every single time my mother ended in tears. Lisa cried the first time and confessed she could not promise Brian was not going to beat the crap out of me for hiding I was still alive for such a long time.
“Well, your mom’s in the shade over there,” he says, pointing at a makeshift tent spread over some large tables.
When I reach the tent, I can’t believe my eyes. My entire family, minus Brian and Lisa, is there sitting at the same table. It’s a sight I never imagined I’d see. There’s my uncle Tony sitting next to Cracker. This blows my mind. They even seem to be having a cordial conversation. Across from them, with their back to me, Everest and Captain Williams, whom I’ll have to learn to address by his first name, since he’s my stepfather now. Next to them, my mother, my aunt Nancy, and Juliya, Everest and Brian’s sister, are chatting away.
“And here’s Lazarus,” says Cracker, who’s the first one to see me.
My mother doesn’t react. She’s listening intently to something Juliya is saying.
It’s only when Cracker puts his hand on her shoulder and asks, “How does it feel to see your son come back from the dead?” that my mother looks up and sees me.
By the time I reach her, Mom and Betty are crying their eyes out. Juliya’s fighting tears, batting her eyelashes like crazy. I hug my mother. She’s crying so hard she can’t even speak.
I try to soothe her by saying, “I’m sorry, Mom, I’m so sorry, but I’m okay. Please don’t cry.”
Juliya’s the first one to get over the shock of seeing me. She stands up, arms akimbo, and growls, “You bastard, how could you do this to us? When I saw you on the news last week, my first thought was that if you weren’t really dead, I was going to kill you myself for putting us through this!”
I laugh and open an arm to pull her into our hug.
“There’s another thing I’m raging mad at you for,” she says.
“What’s that?”
“Never bringing Lisa here when you came and spent time with us. I love your sister,” she says, punching my shoulder not-so-lightly.
“Right, like he wanted his sister to hang out with the likes of us,” says Cracker, who clearly understands why I kept Lisa away. “For all the good it did. She’s gonna be one of the Iron Tornadoes’ old ladies anyway!”
I don’t have a chance to comment before a prospect comes running up to the table.
He says “This black chick and her kid just drove in and asked for David Mayfield. Brains told me to ask you if you wanted to see them before I let them in.”
I let go of my Juliya. “Black chick?”
“Yep, dark as night. I don’t think they make them any darker.”
I laugh. Today is a great day. A fabulous day. That has to be Mimi and Toussaint. How did they find me here? I have no clue, but I don’t care. I follow the prospect to the parking lot, where Brains is having a friendly discussion with them. Mimi has her arms crossed in a defensive stance while Toussaint anxiously looks at the people around them.
The boy has grown so much! When he recognizes me, he runs to me before Brains has time to react. We hug, and when I let him go, I look at Mimi. She’s no longer standing next to Brains, who must have decided they’re no threat to any of us.
Well, maybe he should have thought better. The second Mimi gets within arm’s reach, she slaps my face. Ouch, the woman is strong!
“Mimi, please,” Toussaint pleads.
A voice full of authority says, “Don’t get in the middle of this one, kid.”
Toussaint pulls away. When Cracker uses his bossy tone, few people resist his commands. I look around and see a crowd behind us. It seems many of the Iron Tornadoes noticed Cracker and my family following me toward the parking lot, and they decided it would be fun to tag along.
“You—” Mimi seems unable to find her words. “You—”
I hear Toussaint say to someone, “She’s been like this ever since we saw him on the news.” Someone hushes him, but he continues. “I don’t get it, why is she mad? I thought she would be happy he’s not dead.”
There’re a few chuckles in the audience.
I smile, and since no one else seems willing to answer him, I do. “I think she’s mad at the both of us. At me for making her believe I was dead, and at herself for vanishing without giving me a chance to reach her.”
Mimi nods and takes a tentative step in my direction.
I grab her waist. “You’re not going to hit me again, are you?”
She shakes her head and smiles, lifting her hand to caress the cheek she just slapped.
“Don’t tell me you’re not gonna spank her?” Cracker says.
I’d forgotten that was his answer for most woman-related issues. His motto is “There’s nothing a good spanking can’t cure.”
“No, sir,” I say, looking into Mimi’s eyes and brushing her tears away. “I’m gonna marry her, adopt Toussaint, and we’re going to give him as many siblings as she wants.”
“Aren’t you supposed to ask her first?” my sister asks.
Trust her to take a woman’s side, even against her own brother. I turn my head to look at her. She and Brian have just joined our circle of spectators. He’s standing behind her, holding her tightly. Her hair is all messed up, and she’s glowing. I can guess what they were busy with when I arrived.
“I will, sweetheart, but not in front of this crowd!”
My answer gets booed joyously by said crowd.
“Well, kiss her, you idiot,” Lisa says.
“That I will.” And I do. I kiss her for the longest time, trying to make up for a year of unsatisfied need.
I devour her, and she holds my back almost as fiercely as if she’s afraid I’ll vanish. We’re still going at it when the catcalls die and people start to walk away. The show is over.
I hear my mother say to Toussaint, “Young man, it seems I’m your grandmother now. So what do you say we get to know each other over a burger?”
“That sounds good, ma’am.”
“No ma’am with me,” my mother scolds sweetly as they walk away. “My name is Betty, but I’m not sure I want you to call me by my first name. I don’t think that’s appropriate…”
The rest of their conversation is lost in the background noise.
When Mimi and I let go of each other, we’re alone in the parking lot. Well, almost alone. The prospect on guard duty is back under his tree, pointedly looking in the other direction.
“Come on, love, let me introduce you to our family,” I say, taking Mimi’s hand.
She smiles, and I’m already thinking about logistics. I’m sure my mother or my sister could be talked into keeping Toussaint while I run away with Mimi for the night.
***
Lisa Mayfield returns home from law school to a dead brother and a former lover she no longer recognizes.
Brian Hatcher, her brother’s best friend, dropped out of the police academy. Instead of working with Lisa’s brother to bring down organized crime, he became a full-patched member of the Iron Tornadoes, an outlaw motorcycle club, the very one that may have caused her brother’s fall.
Searching for answers to how her David died, Lisa can’t ignore the attraction she still feels for Brian.
The chemistry is undeniable but is there anything left of the boy she once loved or has he turned into a stone cold biker?
STONE COLD
(An Iron Tornadoes MC Romance)
See STONE COLD at:
Kobo
About Olivia Rigal
Olivia Rigal is a USA Today Bestselling author who writes romance with a touch of spice.
Most of the stories she tells stand alone. However her characters often meet, so you can run into them again and again in other books.
Website | Mailing list | Facebook | Twitter | Tsu | Pinterest
Table of Contents
Red Hot Bikers, Rock Stars, and Bad Boys
Forever Ours by Cassia Leo
Resisting
by Chelle Bliss
Randomly Ever After by Julia Kent
Stella & Dane by Deanna Roy
Every Breath You Take by Blair Babylon
Cold Fusion by Olivia Rigal
The Storm and the Darkness by Sarah M. Cradit
Rock Candy by Daizie Draper
Wuther by V. J. Chambers
Three Nights With A Rock Star by Amber Lin and Shari Slade
Revik by JC Andrijeski
Disclaimers and Copyright Notices
THE STORM AND THE DARKNESS
by Sarah M. Cradit
THE STORM AND THE DARKNESS
by Sarah M. Cradit
THE STORM AND THE DARKNESS © Sarah M. Cradit 2013
Ana Deschanel has made a terrible mistake. The only chance of protecting the other people involved is to flee New Orleans, the only home she has ever known, for the quiet solitude of Summer Island.
Summer Island, Maine (population 202) is not the tranquil escape Ana imagined. The locals are distant and cold, especially her neighbor, the reclusive veterinarian Jonathan St. Andrews. Her only lifeline is the kind but odd caretaker Alex Whitman. Showing up at all the right moments, he warns her she is completely unprepared for a Maine winter. As the first winter storm approaches to whispers of an island shutdown- Ana realizes that she may soon be cut off from the rest of the world.
After a surprising encounter with Jonathan’s brother, Finn, Ana finds herself braving the storm to return something to him. Unprepared for the Maine storm, she slips and falls onto the jagged rocks along the shore. The St. Andrews brothers find her in the nick of time, but she remains unconscious. As the storm worsens, the St. Andrews brothers learn there are other, more sinister forces at work closer than they ever imagined.
With no help from the outside world, they must find a way to protect themselves from both the storm, and the growing darkness that looms across the island.
1- ANA
“All I’m saying is, Deliverance was based on a true story.”
For the past hour, Nicolas had been trying to talk her into coming home to New Orleans. Ana rifled through the fridge, looking for something easy to cook.
“Mhm,” she said, agreeing with him as she often did when he was rambling on about something idiotic.
“Anywhere that doesn’t have cell service might as well be Iceland,” Nicolas added.
Ana laughed. “They have cell phones in Iceland.”
He dropped his voice low. “I’m talking about the parts without cell service, Ana. Dark places. Places where you can’t even pronounce the name of the village you’re in because it has sixteen consonants and no vowel, and there are more active volcanoes than people.”
“The more worked up you get, the less you make sense.” Ana sighed. “Anyway, how’s everything at home?”
Nicolas gave an exaggerated yawn through the phone. “Your father is fine, your stepmother is fine, Adrienne is fine, blah blah blah. Would you like to hear about the weather? I could give you the score of the Saints game, if you’re so inclined.”
“You act like those things aren’t important.”
“They’re not,” he said simply. Silence on his end for a moment and then he added, “And if you did care so much about how the family is doing, you wouldn’t have abandoned us.”
“Stop being an ass,” Ana retorted lightly, but she knew he could hear the slight reprimand in her voice. Nicolas had a way of finding the line and stepping over it. Normally she enjoyed the parry, but the circumstances were different now. Of course, Nicolas had no way of knowing that because, for the first time in her life, she had kept something from him. Quarter-life crisis, she told him when she revealed her plans to move to Maine. He had known better, though, seeing right through her lie and allowing her to her keep lying because he loved her. She didn’t know what stopped her from telling him.
That’s a lie. I know why.
She knew it hurt him that she was lying. It hurt her to do it. He was not just her cousin, but also her closest friend. Telling herself he probably kept things from her all the time didn’t help. The thought was hollow because she knew better.
“Have you shown anyone your parlor trick yet?” he asked with a snicker.
“You know I haven’t. They already dislike me. I don’t need them also thinking I’m a freak of nature.”
“Not a freak of nature, darling. Just a Deschanel.”
Ana was not the only Deschanel with a special talent, but she might be the only one who wished she didn’t have one. It was more of a curse than a blessing.
“How did your family escape it then?” she asked. Not only was Nicolas born without special abilities—benign, the other Deschanels liked to call it—his father and four sisters had also been benign.
“Heathens,” he said casually, as if that explained his special status.
“There are plenty of powerful heathens in this family,” she laughed. “But I suppose you do set that bar rather high.”
After dinner, runny chili from an only slightly rusted can, she wandered out to her front porch, which faced Casco Bay, an inlet of the Atlantic Ocean. She shielded her eyes from the vibrant orange hues of the setting sun, and looked out across the sparkling water. From where her house sat, on the eastern shore, she could not see the mainland, but she could make out traces of smaller, barren islands to the east. Alex told her in the winter the view would disappear completely, and the island would be shrouded in blinding fog. She wondered again if she had done the right thing in coming there.
What was my father thinking when he bought this place? It had been a gift to her mother, Catherine, who died giving birth to Ana. Yet another failure. A healer who killed her own mother.
Ana caught the view of a fishing trawler in her peripheral, off to the west. Her gaze shifted from the sunset to the man captaining the vessel. He had come back to shore every day at the same time, all week. Alex told her some of the fishermen told time by the sun. She wondered if Finnegan St. Andrews was one of them.
As Finn eased alongside the small pier, a young boy hopped off and started tethering heavy ropes to a series of poles. Moments later, Finn joined him, and helped to finish securing the boat. Together they carried large metal-framed traps from the boat to the storage shed at the dock’s upper end.
After placing several of the live lobster into an ice chest for the child, Finn watched him scamper up the beach, toward a path leading to the main road.
Finn stretched his strong shoulders as if shrugging off a tremendous burden. As his arms came down, he put his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. He caught sight of Ana on her porch, and waved. She waved back.
This was a daily tradition during the seven days she had been on the island. Finn was the closest thing she had to a friend, next to Alex, but they had never actually met. She knew it would be simple enough to introduce herself. Especially since she might not even have to say much, as everyone in town already seemed to know everything about her.
She wouldn’t, though. Waving was safer.
Ana set a bowl of milk on the porch next to an old comforter. Cocoa would not be back until later in the evening, most likely. Ana wondered if the cat had been someone’s pet once, for she immediately warmed to human affection.
Ana never had any pets of her own back home. Growing up, her stepmother, Barbara, had been allergic to almost everything, and then when Ana left home, her focus on education left little room for anything else. After four years in undergraduate studies, she then immersed herself another four for her double masters. She would have continued as a student forever, if her favorite professor hadn’t offered her a job teaching English at Tulane. It was an unlikely career choice for an introvert, but it made her happy to feel useful.
Then she left. Left the job, her family, her hometown, Nicolas; all of it.
She hadn’t known anything about Summer Island, Maine before her arrival a week earlier. Never had even seen a picture of the old home inherited from her mother. All she knew—
and all that mattered—was its distance from New Orleans, both in geography and similarity.
The recorded population of Summer Island was 250, but Alex told her it was actually 204 if you subtracted the families who only had weekend or summer homes. Although it was a diminutive 2.2 square miles in size, the town was relatively self-sufficient, having most of the basics. The key service they seemed to be missing was a medical facility but, surprisingly, there was a veterinary clinic. The vet was one of her neighbors, the lobster fisherman’s brother, in fact, but his standoffish behavior made Ana think twice about striking up a conversation. Meeting friendly new people was hard enough.
Geographically, Summer Island was the furthest human-inhabited island east from the mainland, a sixty-minute ride on the Casco Bay Ferry Lines to Portland. Alex said there were a handful of folks who commuted daily into Portland, but the restaurants, bars, post office, grocery store, and other businesses were all run by islanders.
“It makes it easier in the winter,” he told her. “That way people don’t miss work when it snows.”
“People actually miss work?”
“Aye. The ferries close down for a spell each winter, sometimes more’n once.”
“So how do you get off the island if there is an emergency?”
He shrugged. “Ya don’t.”
Alex didn’t seem the least bit concerned about that potential, but the thought unsettled her. Ana took living in a big city for granted, being near everything she could possibly need. Every bit of information he eagerly shared left her with a dozen more questions, all unasked. She disliked feeling silly, or being perceived as an outsider, and her lack of knowledge caused both.
