by Angela Smith
Final Mend
Angela Smith
Avon, Massachusetts
Copyright © 2014 by Angela Smith.
All rights reserved.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.
Published by
Crimson Romance
an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.
10151 Carver Road, Suite 200
Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.
www.crimsonromance.com
ISBN 10: 1-4405-8333-1
ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8333-9
eISBN 10: 1-4405-8334-X
eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-8334-6
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author's imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
Cover art © 123RF/Tyler Olson
To Mammaw—I wouldn’t be who I am today without you. Your unwavering love and guidance has helped me keep my head above water more times than I can count. Your strength has kept me strong, and I will always treasure your teachings. I love you more than words can say.
A special thanks to Teri for helping me through my various stages of panic.
Thank you to the Crimson Romance team for believing in my work and helping me to make it stronger. Writing might be a solo journey, but I couldn’t have done this without you!
A special appreciation for those I have lost—those who have touched my life in special ways and will continue to live on in my heart and my memories.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Epilogue
About the Author
A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance
Also Available
Chapter One
Jake Inman’s head was about to explode. His lungs ached. His limbs burned. The pressure of his body filled his ears with a dark, cavernous force, demanding attention, leaving him fearful this could be it. His last breath.
He sailed out of the water, captured a lungful of air, and dove under again. The tangle of water and elbows created a blender-like experience. Churning, gurgling, disturbing his equilibrium. Not long ago, this situation would have panicked him, but swimming with a group of triathletes fighting for the position he wanted forced him to move forward, stroke by stroke.
He no longer panicked, even when he couldn’t breathe. He knew it was only temporary, and he’d been through a hell of a lot worse. He’d learned to control his fear, letting the water soothe him as it slid across his skin.
A sliver of light penetrated the depth as he surfaced for another quick breath before diving underwater. He fought for control as he maintained a continuous flow of air supply, his arms gliding in swift forward motions as he focused on the swimmers around him.
He thought of yesterday, of Brandon and his concerns for Amy, but the image of the two people he loved most in the world held a dangerous distraction. Swimming took enough energy. During the most stressful events of his life, water relieved him of his pain. Not drugs, not alcohol, not women. Not anymore.
He could thank his cousin Brandon for that.
Which was why he was having such a hard time focusing today. Brandon was in trouble and when Brandon was in trouble, Jake was troubled. But Brandon had insisted Jake continue with his triathlons while he took care of everything.
Jake hoped everything would work out for the cousin who had helped him through the darkest part of his life. He knew Brandon was a good man, a good father, and the courts would have to see what a lousy mother Lillian was. She claimed Brandon was never home, didn’t have enough time to give his daughter a home she needed, and he was trying to prove the courts wrong. The courts had granted temporary custody to Lillian until the divorce, with Brandon having visitation every other weekend. This arrangement wouldn’t have been so bad if Lillian weren’t bat-shit crazy. But Lillian had never cared about her daughter until now, now when it might hurt Brandon or now when Lillian might get something out of it.
If Amy were old enough, it wouldn’t be a problem. She’d choose to live with Brandon and all would be fine. Jake knew Amy would be better off in foster care than with her own mother. But Amy was too young to know, too young to let her know, so Brandon continued to play nice while the court decided his seven-year-old daughter’s fate.
As he reached the end of his swim, Jake pulled himself out of the water and refocused. Time to change as quickly as possible, refuel, and head for his next meet with the bike. He loved the bike, the burning in his calves, the way the wind tore at him as he pedaled. But swimming was his favorite, and his most feared. When he jumped into the water, he faced his fears all over again.
And conquered them every time.
He rushed to his bike and noticed Shawn hovering nearby, waiting.
Worry kinked his muscles. He controlled it with slow breaths.
“Jake.” Shawn laid a hand on his shoulder. Jake tied his shoes and ignored Shawn. “Jake.”
He straightened, a shiver running through him at Shawn’s deadpan voice. “I’ve got to go. What is it?” Shawn had worked with Brandon’s management team for years, but Brandon was usually the one to accompany Jake on his meets. Shawn’s presence usually meant something wasn’t right. His job was mostly public relations, and he only attended meets when he had to make sure their athletes were making a good impression. As far as Jake knew, he hadn’t pissed anybody off.
Jake reached for his bike, but at this point he wasn’t sure he’d finish the race. He might just pedal to his truck, to Brandon and Amy.
“Amy is missing,” Shawn said.
Jake dropped his hand. Let his bike fall. Blood pounded to his head as he tried to absorb this news. He faced Shawn. No way could he have heard him right. “What?”
“She’s … missing. Someone broke into their house—”
“Someone broke in?” Fear kept him grounded, preventing any action. He needed to reach Brandon as soon as possible. Send out search parties for Amy. No, they needed to go after Lillian. There was no break-in. Lillian had taken her own daughter. She had custody and still had taken her. Anything to hurt Brandon. Anything to make him look bad.
“Jake?” Frown lines cut into Shawn’s forehead.
No way would Jake calm down. Brandon needed him. Amy needed him. Shawn needed to get out of the way so he could go to them.
Shawn planted a palm on Jake’s chest when he tried to sidestep him. “Brandon is dead.”
• • •
Winona Wall smiled and nodded as she prepped a margarita and listened to the older couple across from her rave about their adventure today. The two had gone hiking and were now curled together at the bar, holding hands like teenagers. She learned they had been teenagers when they fell in love and were still together after forty-five years.
She slid the margaritas to them and blushed when they wrapped their arm
s through each other’s and drank from their own glasses. It was sweet listening to their story, and not many people occupied the bar right now so she had the time to listen. Not that she minded. Learning people’s life stories was one of her joys of tending bar. She just couldn’t brush off the warning whispers in her mind at the phone call she’d just received.
Wanted to give you a heads-up that someone’s looking for you. He’s not from around here.
She chuckled to herself. Maybe it was a long-lost brother. After all, she’d found Chayton, her long-lost brother, in this very bar several months ago.
She had thanked Danny, who had given her the warning, and also thanked him for not mentioning it to Chayton. Her little brother had become quite the over-protector. Danny worked in Chayton’s ski shop across town and had once tried to date Chayton’s now-girlfriend, so he’d probably wanted to avoid Chayton just as much as she did.
She had almost asked Danny to stop by later for a drink to thank him, but didn’t want to give him the wrong idea. He wasn’t her type and even if he was, she wasn’t ready for a relationship like that. Yet once the sun started to set behind the mountains, a sense of loneliness would wash over her. Even if she wasn’t alone, the strange call of those mountains, sitting boldly and strongly in the background, made her realize she was far from everything familiar.
She didn’t want the familiar. She didn’t. But the rosy glow of the mountains at sunset made her wish for something more.
The door opened, and sunlight streamed in for a brief moment. Nerves tingled low in her belly at the shadow in the doorway, and the nerves burned into annoyance when she recognized her brother. Maybe Danny had reconsidered and called him. Danny hadn’t known who was looking for her and had only heard about it from one of his employees, so he didn’t even have a description of the guy. Maybe everyone in this town should stop being so overprotective of her. It wasn’t like she hadn’t taken care of herself the first thirty-something years of her life.
Chayton greeted the couple then lumbered behind the bar to kiss her on the cheek and rumple her hair. “Hey, sis.”
“What’s up? What brings you here? Thought you were taking the day off.”
“Needed to check on a few things in the office. Going to make an order. Do you need anything?”
“The list is on your desk. But it could have waited.” She didn’t dare ask if Danny had called him. If he hadn’t, she didn’t want to explain anything to Chayton.
“Yeah, probably. But I’m hoping to take tomorrow off instead of today.”
She watched him lope into the office. She worked in his bar for a few hours a few times a week during the slow hours. He didn’t allow anyone but himself to work or close up alone on the weekends.
She knew he wasn’t worried about her screwing anything up in the bar; he was worried about her being alone. Which was ludicrous. She’d been alone most her life. She never, ever should have admitted to Naomi one night after a bottle of wine about being heartsick. It wasn’t like she planned to run off anywhere or do anything drastic. She’d lost her mother to cancer, but had finally found Chayton and the rest of her family—Chayton’s family. Seeing them so happy together escalated her loneliness, but she knew she was where she was supposed to be.
She turned back and winked at the Osborns.
“He seems happier now,” Mrs. Osborn said.
“He is,” Winona agreed. He wasn’t near as hard to get along with now as when she’d first met him, and she’d only known him a few months. The Osborns had known him since his childhood.
She’d come into the bar eight months ago, looking for her younger brother, who had been abandoned with her by their mother when he was eighteen months old and she was three years old. Their mother had been involved with an abusive, controlling man, and she’d given her children up to protect them. Their mother had eventually reclaimed Winona, and Winona spent years trying to find her brother, who had been given to his blood father with no idea she existed. Neither of them remembered the other, and he had been none too happy at first. Chayton’s real father and adoptive mother had died long ago, and he learned of his birth mother after Winona had tracked him. Chayton finally met their mother a few months before her death. He spent the last few weeks with her, making her journey into death a little happier and more peaceful for them both.
But Winona still felt the effects of loss.
“How are he and Naomi? Haven’t seen him at the bar as often.”
“They’re doing great.”
“Are they planning to get married anytime soon?”
Winona shrugged. “I don’t think they’re rushing into anything.”
“Well, when you meet the one, you’ll know. And I can tell you, he’s met the one.”
“I agree with you on that,” Winona said. Naomi held a special place in her heart, and she hoped to call her sister one day. She’d been the first to welcome Winona here.
“What about you?” Mr. Osborn—Fred, he insisted—asked.
“Oh no, not me. Not anytime soon.”
Mr. and Mrs. Osborn’s eyes darkened a moment as they glanced at each other. She knew what they were thinking. They were thinking her boyfriend had been killed. Caleb’s death still left a hole in her heart, but not because she was in love with him. She was a friend to him when nobody else wanted to be. She was aware of his alcohol abuse and grieved that his death came at a time he was finally straightening up, but she had only thought of him as a friend.
What happened to him wasn’t fair. He’d been helping Chayton find an important relic and was shot by a violent man in charge of a large jewel-fencing organization. The man responsible was now dead and gone, but it didn’t make dealing with it any easier.
She’d been through a lot over the past few years, and she was ready to find her home in Tanyon. Hopefully whoever was looking for her hadn’t come to mess that up.
• • •
Tanyon, Montana, was a small jewel of a town towered by mountains and tucked into a corner of heaven. The sun descended, bruising the sky with dew-covered gold and plum. Green pines rose steadily upward, reaching for an eternity they’d never see.
Brandon had owned a cabin in the woods about an hour away. Though he and Jake had never driven into this town, they’d visited the cabin often to hunt and fish. The colors in this part of the world seemed more vibrant than any other place Jake had ever visited, but now that vibrancy only pissed him off.
They’d never fish at that old cabin again. Brandon was dead. His fishing days over.
Jake drove into 301 Torrey Lane and parked, eyeing a beer sign with cold dread. He’d left home this morning at two a.m. and driven half a day to reach Tanyon. He’d spent the next two hours searching for a woman named Winona and hadn’t even thought to ask where he was headed when he’d finally gotten an address for her. All he knew was that Winona had been recommended by several private investigators who couldn’t take his case. She was supposed to be the best.
She worked in a bar. When he’d heard the place’s name—Air Dog—he’d thought it might be a ski shop or something.
“Fuck.” Jake slammed his palms into the steering wheel and listened as the engine rumbled in his gut.
His pulse pounded as the beer sign blinked, taunting him. He sat a moment, his hands gripping the wheel. Breathing in and out and daring the tears to leave. He hadn’t needed a drink in several years, but the ache razed through him. Just one shot to burn his throat and channel his adrenaline into a steady stream of unconsciousness.
It was a twisted, fucked up fate. An omen. The universe was hell-bent on destroying him and this time it might win. All along Brandon had been his advocate for giving up the drink, but Brandon was dead and the one woman who might help him worked in a bar.
Thirst for an icy cold drink overtook common sense. His head spun as he fought off the need for the stimulant that could drown his sorrows.
He couldn’t go in there. Not without caving.
Fuck it. His cousin, th
e one who’d pulled him out of the alcoholic funk he'd been in half his adult life, had been murdered in his own home. What good had fancy living gotten him? Jake deserved a drink.
No, Brandon wouldn’t approve. So he’d go in, sit at the bar, and have a glass of water, proving he could do it without giving in. Or tonic water. That held a bite that would mimic alcohol’s sting.
He had to talk to Winona and since he wanted to rest his road-weary body, this would provide the perfect backdrop for both. And sitting in a dark bar with low music and alcohol bottles would confirm his strength. Strength Brandon had insisted he had if he’d steer clear of temptation. They’d even visited bars—several times, to prove he had the strength—but Brandon had always been with him.
Brandon had looked up to Jake in his younger days, and once Jake’s parents had died and Jake had crashed into a headlong flurry of destruction, Brandon admitted he had to do something. He’d coaxed him, dared him, persuaded him, bribed him, but the thing that finally worked for Jake was his near death and respect for his remaining family. Brandon was about to be a father, and Jake didn’t want his new godchild to see him destroy himself. For once in his life, he wanted to be a good influence on someone. He traded one addiction for another: triathlons. A journey that had saved him. He opened the truck and jumped down, slamming the door behind him in a crash of nerves and uncertainty. Could he do this?
He opened the door. The bar didn’t greet him with smoke and dreariness. Instead, it was muted and pleasant, with sounds of chatter and low music. It wasn’t crowded. Neither was it too high-end to feel unwelcome or too trashy to feel uncomfortable.
It was perfect, actually, and so was the woman standing behind the bar.
Chapter Two
Winona noticed him the moment he walked into Air Dog. The melody of the bar composed with laughter, voices, and music was loud enough she couldn’t hear his footsteps across the planks, but she felt it deep into her core as her pulse quickened. She watched him approach, his head held high, spine straight, jaw clenched, but his shoulders slouched in defeat. Her heart thumped, the beat inside her chest performing its own role of insecurity. One-upping the other noises.
