Ugh, I definitely needed to be moving on.
I forced a smile. “I’m so sorry, but I’m married.”
Her face fell. “Happily?”
I laughed at that. “Yes, ma’am, blissfully. I’m sure your Thomas is wonderful, but my Henry has already captured my heart.”
“Well, shucks. Thomas is going to be so disappointed.” She shrugged it off and sighed. “Oh, well. There’s still young Mandy in town. She’ll be eighteen soon. Do you know her? Mandy Brown?”
I held back a wince for poor young Mandy and hoped she managed to steer clear of Thomas’s matchmaking mama. “I don’t.”
The woman’s face turned more curious and her eyes narrowed slightly. “Where are you from?”
My smile turned brittle. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t like being interrogated, even by a nosy old lady who was probably completely harmless and only wanted to ensure she had grandbabies to spoil in her later years. “Oh, here and there and all over the place.” I shrugged, running my fingers along one of the packages, eager to get them both posted and get the hell out of there.
She laughed and backed away. “Well, you’re all set, Jennifer.” She handed me the receipt and I slipped it in the pocket of my denim jacket to add to the shoebox of business receipts I kept under the passenger’s seat of Freebird.
“I’ll see you next time.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave.
I grinned on my way out the door. Not if I can help it.
As soon as I was back in the van, I checked my inbox again. No matter how many times I refreshed the page, still nothing from Gray. My stomach sunk to my toes. My pulse pounded out a staccato rhythm. Was Gray in trouble? Or worse? I tried not to imagine what “or worse” might mean. My brother was all I had in the world.
Growing up, our dad had moved us from town to town never staying anywhere long enough for the local authorities to get wind of the fact that he never paid taxes or sent us to school or did any of the other things that he considered means of suppression by a tyrannical government.
I always hoped that maybe someday we would finally settle down and live like a normal family. Then, instead of running to avoid the truant officer or IRS, I could make friends with other girls my age. I used to dream about having sleepovers where my friends and I would do each other’s hair and gossip about boys.
It never happened.
Neither Gray nor I had ever had any other roots—no friends, family, or anything at all—except each other. And Dad. Our bi-monthly emails were as important to Gray as they were to me. It was weird to say, but they tethered us to one another and that kept us both grounded. When you lived a roving existence like we did, it was huge to know that in this great big world, there was one other person somewhere who cared.
Tears formed in my eyes as I thought about my brother being hurt…or worse. As much as I wanted to believe otherwise, he wouldn’t just forget to contact me. He wouldn’t. I had to find him.
I knew Gray lived life on the edge. That was just who he was. But, there had to be some way to begin searching for him. Some clue as to his whereabouts. I didn’t even know what he did for a living. I began pouring through the old emails for clues—any mention of towns or plans or jobs or what he might be involved in…anything.
I found a few references to the ocean, but east coast? West coast? There were too many possibilities to narrow it down. I kept reading over the emails, lingering on every word until I noticed the numbers in very small font at the bottom of one of the emails, under his name: 243333n814703w. A smile stretched across my face. To anyone else, it would have looked like a random jumble of numbers and letters, as though maybe his pet had stepped on the keyboard. I knew otherwise.
Gray, you sly dog you.
I pulled up an app on my computer and entered the numbers, grinning like a fool, despite the situation. I’d found exactly what I’d been looking for. I hadn’t even noticed at the time. I hadn’t bothered to scroll down and take a closer look at his sign off. Gray had slipped map coordinates into the old email: 24°33′33″N 81°47′03″W.
A geo atlas app quickly gave me the location on a map—somewhere in the lower Florida Keys. I figured if I drove straight through, stopping only to boondock in Walmart parking lots for a few hours of shuteye, I should arrive in about two days.
Jittery with nerves, I ran into Wall Drug for groceries, packed my mini fridge, gassed up Freebird, and hit the open road.
Sunkissed Key, Florida, here I come.
I hoped to god that if Gray had moved on from the Keys, he’d at least left a breadcrumb trail so I could figure out where in this world my brother was.
4
Grace
As I exited the Overseas Highway, the sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon welcoming me to the sleepy little island. I arrived early enough in the morning that as I drove down Main Street, Sunkissed Key looked deserted.
I’d been driving all night, was exhausted, and desperately needed a shower and some deodorant. My eyes felt gritty; my throat felt scratchy. My body was screaming at me to pull over, curl up with Damocles and take a power snooze. But as tired as I was, I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep until I knew more about Gray
As soon as I pulled Freebird up to the small cottage on the ocean, I knew it belonged to Gray. A beat-up old pickup was parked under the pillars of the raised cottage— the same two-toned, white and aqua colored 1969 Chevy short bed he’d been driving the last time I saw him, seven years ago. I had to smile. Only Gray would drive around Florida in a vehicle that lacked air conditioning.
My heart soared as I shifted Freebird into park, jumped out and raced across the sandy ground and up the stairs, two at a time. Even though I hadn’t seen Gray in forever, I had no qualms about waking him up and kicking his ass for scaring the crap out of me.
When I reached the top of the stairs, I found the front door slightly ajar. The hope that had been bubbling inside me suddenly became lodged in my throat and I reached up brushing my neck with my fingertips as though I could physically push the lump back down.
With a shaky hand, I silently nudged the door open a little more and stepped inside. Planting my back against the wall, I took in the open floorplan while keeping alert for villains. Or boogeymen. Empty, but trashed. Drawers in the small kitchen had been yanked from the cabinets and upended. Couch cushions were ripped to shreds. The place had been thoroughly ransacked.
Any doubt I had that Gray had gotten himself into some sort of trouble vanished. I inched through the small cottage inspecting every room, bathroom, and closet, making sure there was no one still hiding out. From the look of the place, my brother had gotten involved in some serious doo-doo. But what? And where was he?
To say Gray and I’d had a bizarre upbringing would be putting it mildly. We’d been raised by a single father who was not only an anarchist and a doomsday prepper, but also a conspiracy theorist to the point of paranoia—and fury. It had taken years to quell the constant fear and anxiety I carried thanks to their cultivation by my Dad and the loony bunch of fringe dwellers we met up with from time to time at gun shows or militia field training gatherings.
As I flipped a chair upright and sat to contemplate my next move, I quickly came to the conclusion that my big brother wasn’t the only one in over his head. I had a host of survival skills thanks to dear old Dad. Yeah, I could start a fire with two twigs, identify over 250 species of wild, edible plants, and survive for months in the wilderness equipped with only a pocketknife.
I could also pick a lock with a hairpin, hotwire a car in less than fifteen seconds, and build a homemade incendiary device with regular household items found under the kitchen sink. I was even trained to live through a zombie apocalypse with nothing but a slingshot and a bucket of rocks.
What I wasn’t was skilled at was the art of investigation. I knew a whole lot more about running, hiding, staying off-grid, and erasing my tracks than I did about finding someone. In that regard, I was useless.
Tha
t lump in my throat burned and tears threatened to spill. I didn’t let them fall, but they put up a damned good fight. This was no time to break down. If I couldn’t handle the situation, I had to enlist the help of someone who could—and pronto.
I debated going to the police, but it didn’t feel right. When you had a childhood in which you and your brother had been taught to be wary, not only of the government, but also of law enforcement on any level, it was hard to shake that particular brand of paranoia. While I wasn’t proud of it, I wasn’t going to get over my ingrained distrust overnight. Besides, I didn’t know what Gray was involved in. For all I knew, I’d ask the police to find him only to end up having my brother locked up and charged with a criminal offence. No, I needed someone who wasn’t the police. Maybe a local private investigator.
I went back outside and sat on Freebird’s running board with Damocles and my laptop nervously searching for PI firms in the area. There were pages of results, most based in the Miami area, but a Reddit thread popped up in the search results. It had been started by someone locally. Some of the respondents were complaining and others were praising the new “security force” on the island. There seemed to be a dispute about whether the group was working in opposition to or in tandem with local law enforcement, but both sides of the dispute agreed on one thing—they were not an officially government-licensed agency. Bingo.
Another search landed me a name and address—P.O.L.A.R., 44 South Main Street.
There was next to nothing online in the way of information on this group called P.O.L.A.R. Just a couple articles in the local paper—one about the group helping clear out the island in the aftermath of Hurricane Matilda and another about the rescue of a family after their pontoon capsized. I still wasn’t convinced of anything except that the group was my best option, at least for the moment.
I tended to be a good judge of character—another throwback from being raised by a neurotic parent—and I figured I’d decide whether or not to trust them once I saw them in person, face to face.
My van contained a small wet-closet, a toilet room that doubled as a shower, but it was miniscule and in warmer climates, I much preferred to shower outside. I set up my outdoor shower and rushed through my cleaning routine. Deodorant, some clothes, and a good toothbrushing later and I was off. I swung Freebird back out onto Main Street and headed toward the south end of the island.
It was still early and Sunkissed Key was just waking up, so I parked in front of 44 South Main and waited for them to open. I hoped they were still in operation. The place was unmarked and the front window was tinted. Antsy and nervous, I locked the van and made my way through the alley to the back of the building and down to the beach.
The ocean was serene and calm. Gentle, rolling waves eased up onto the shore before retreating back across the sand. I stretched my neck back, lifting my face to the rising sun to let it warm me as I waited for the little offices and stores along Main Street to start opening to admit their first customers of the day.
Gray had always liked the ocean. When we were kids, he’d light up with excitement when we landed somewhere next to water. Of course, as soon as Dad figured that out, it was all deserts and mountains from then on out.
Where are you, Gray?
My arms ached to grab my big brother and hug him close. It’d been too long and the fear that I’d never get the chance again was gnawing at me. I had to find him.
5
Konstantin
There was something unsettling in the air that morning. It seemed to prickle my skin in a way that I wasn’t sure I liked. At the very least, it had me feeling uneasy and restless. It felt almost as though there was something coming—as though the ether held a premonition of something big. Earthshattering.
I got up and dressed for the day as usual. As I went about my morning routine, I tried to ignore my uneasiness, but as soon as I arrived at the storefront that housed our office, something in air had me in a state of bewilderment.
The scent of honey cakes was wafting from somewhere near the beach. Someone was baking my favorite treat and, no matter that I’d just eaten a full breakfast, I wanted to gorge myself on the sweet. I had turned that way and was walking towards the delectable aroma before I even realized I was doing it.
“Kon, know anything about this?”
I glanced back. Serge was gesturing to a white sprinter van parked along the curb. It appeared to have accrued its fair share of mileage.
“Looks like a stealth camper. It’s the latest thing, don’t you watch YouTube?”
Serge gave me an aren’t you just the cleverest dickstool on the block look, but when I tipped my head back and inhaled, more of that delicious aroma wafted from inside the vehicle.
“What is it?”
I frowned and strode over to the van. I tried the door, but it was locked. “Don’t you smell that?”
Serge raised a brow. “Smell what?”
I inhaled deeply again and my fist clenched unconsciously on the door handle of the van snapping it clean off. I swore and shoved the chrome handle into my pocket. I smelled…medovic, the multi-layered, Russian honey cake from back home, fresh baked and warm from the oven.
“This is gonna sound strange but is it possible that someone parked here and is selling medovic down at the beach? C’mon, you have to smell that?”
His eyebrows bunched together and he tilted his head back, his nostrils flaring. “I smell soap and cheap coffee.”
I just kept taking deep breaths of the intoxicating smell, my mouth watering. My dick stirred in my pants and I stared down at it in shock. The guys could make all the wise cracks they wanted about me being asexual but that wasn’t the case at all. Not by a long shot. I noticed women. And I avoided them. For a reason. I’d gotten so good at it that I couldn’t remember the last time I’d sprouted wood in reaction to a woman, yet the smell of honey cake was giving me a boner? I was losing it.
“Come on. Let’s get the office open.”
I backed away from the sprinter van and nodded. “Yeah, right.”
Dragging myself inside, I plopped down at my desk in the back and turned on the window AC unit so that it blew directly over me. I was burning up. My skin felt like it was two sizes too small suddenly and I was on fire. Nerves fluttered in my stomach until I couldn’t stand it and stood back up, unsure of what the fuck was happening to me.
As the rest of the team filed in, whatever they were conversing about that morning was lost on me. Settling in their chairs, the guys began the day filling out reports and catching up on the drudgery of our job—paperwork. Serge was the only one who hadn’t gone right to work. He was watching me out of the corner of his eye with a look of suspicion on his face.
When I couldn’t take anymore, I stood up, intending to leave the office and go on a hunt for—I didn’t exactly know what. Something was up, though, and I had no intention of waiting for it to come to me. I was going to find it.
Before I got to the door, it opened and a warm breeze brought in the enticing aroma of delicious honey cake, freshly glazed. My mouth watered, my stomach clenched, and my dick turned to solid stone.
Everyone in the office turned to witness the petite woman step through the door. Her dark hair fluttered around her as the wind caught it and tousled it into her face. Wearing short, frayed, denim cutoffs, a t-shirt that said home is where you park it, and a pair of sandals, she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and looked up, meeting my intense gaze. I could almost hear her little intake of breath.
A jolt shot through me, prickling my skin into goosebumps that tingled from my head to my toes. She stood facing me, her lush pink lips parted, her cheeks slightly flushed from the sun and I could almost feel the pulsing of her blood as it flowed through her veins, that’s how connected I felt to the woman in front of me.
Her full breasts rose and fell rapidly with her breath, a sign that she was as affected as I was. I knew instantly who she was.
She was the one. The woman who was mean
t for me—made for me, and I for her. My mate. Was it possible to fall in love with someone at first sight? I didn’t know how it worked for the rest of the world’s population, but I damned sure knew that in that single moment, I had fallen head over heels. Head. Over. Heels.
My dick tried to pop a hole through my cargo pants and my mouth watered so much that I had to swallow before I drooled on myself. That swallow sounded like a bomb going off in the silent room. My bear fought and clawed to push forward to get to her, sweep her up, to make her mine. I fought to keep him down.
She cleared her throat as she forced her eyes away from me. “I need help.”
I took a step forward without even realizing it. “I’m here.”
Serge shot me a miffed look. “What can we do for you?”
She glanced from me to Serge and I watched her hands ball into fists at her side. “My brother…he’s missing.”
Serge moved closer to her, ignoring my low warning growl. “What do you mean, missing?”
She licked her lips nervously. “I mean he’s missing. He hasn’t contacted me in over a month so I tracked him to this island, but his house has been ransacked….and he’s not there.”
“What’s your name?” I’d moved even closer to her, shoving Serge aside. It was as though she had me in a tractor beam from one of those old sci-fi movies and I couldn’t stop myself.
Serge grunted, elbowing me back, but I stood my ground. “What’s your brother’s name?”
She cast a quick glance at Serge, but when I growled again, her eyes shifted back to me. “I’m Ann…uh…I mean Grace. Sorry. I’m Grace. Grace Lowe. My brother is Gray Lowe. I need help finding him and I can’t go to the police because I’m afraid of what he might have gotten himself into. Can you help me?”
Serge and I spoke at the same time.
“Yes.”
Royal Bear Page 2