Murder at Sunrise Lake

by Feehan, Christine

  “Give it some time, Denver. Even if you had a difficult time with your family, the loss can still hit you at the most unexpected time. I know from experience. We weren’t close, but it was still a loss when I lost my mother. You have to allow yourself to grieve and process.”

  “I suppose so.” He sounded doubtful. He drained his drink and held up his glass. The bartender came over to refill it. “What’s going on with you and Sam?”

  She frowned at him. “Not sure what you mean. He’s our sober driver tonight.”

  “He never dances with you more than one dance. Two at most. And he doesn’t have his hands all over you.”

  Her frown deepened. “I don’t recall that he had his hands all over me.” She pulled out her cell phone. Did you have your hands all over me when we were dancing?

  She watched as Sam took out his phone and looked down at the screen. His expression never changed, not even while he texted her back.

  “Yeah, he did. Well, he was dancing closer than he has in the past. You have to be careful of him, Stella.”

  When I have my hands all over you, Satine, you’ll remember it and it won’t be in public.

  A little shiver went down her spine. She glanced at her screen twice. Yeah. He used the word when. It was crazy, but just looking at his text made her body aware of him. Come alive. Too many Moscow Mules, for sure. She needed to stop drinking. She took another sip because the pounding of blood between her legs felt delicious when she’d felt cold and alone and frigid for so long. Sam had slowly awakened her. If he had come at her too fast, she would have run for the hills, but somehow he’d slipped past her guard and found his way inside her.

  “I thought you were friends with Sam.” She leaned closer to Denver, keeping her face turned directly toward him, afraid Sam could read lips. She’d always thought he could— well, after the first few encounters with him. Either that or he really was as psychic as she was, just in a different way.

  Denver’s gaze lifted to drift over Sam and then came back to her, his expression concerned. “I’m not saying I don’t like the man. I do. It’s just that no one can really be friends with a ghost, Stella, and that’s what he is.”

  “Um, no, he’s real flesh and blood, Denver. He’s sitting right there and he works his ass off at the resort. He’s on Search and Rescue with you and never shirks. You’re the one who told me that.”

  “In the military, sometimes men like him are necessary, and they’re called in when everything else fails. We sometimes would see them, like shadows, hunting like wolves, but alone, always silent. Most of the time you didn’t see them, but you felt them. They cleared the way for you when you were pinned down. Or they got you out of a bad situation.”

  “Isn’t that a good thing?”

  He hesitated. “In the right circumstances, yes. But ghosts are used for other tasks as well, Stella, outside the military. They usually don’t last long. They die young. They aren’t supposed to last long because they’re trained for one thing. They’re given psychological tests, and when they’re proven to be a fit for what the government is looking for, they’re trained for specific tasks.”

  “What you’re saying is they’re used up as fast as the government can use them.”

  Denver nodded. “Often, if they do break free, they’re hunted down and killed because they’re considered too big of a risk to be running around loose.”

  “You really think Sam is one of these ‘ghosts’?”

  She was careful not to look at Sam. He had asked to be paid under the table. What would happen if she told him she wanted him to go legit? Would he walk away? She could ask Raine to investigate him, but then Raine would know she was suspicious of him and would demand a reason, and she didn’t want that. What could she tell her?

  Denver sighed and pushed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I think he might be. He’s too good at everything. Too quiet. Too watchful. I don’t even know how to explain it.”

  “What about his paperwork, Denver?”

  “These guys have a million IDs. They have them stashed everywhere and money to go with them. They can be gone in minutes. If he is a ghost, he would have contacts to get him anywhere he wants to go.”

  “Maybe he just wants to be left alone like the rest of us. We moved here because this place represents peace to us, Denver. You said so yourself. All of us deserve a chance to live our lives the way we want to live them. You have a family here. You belong with us. Sam does as well.”

  She gestured around the bar to her friends. They were laughing loudly, clinging to one another, happy in their circle on the dance floor. “That’s us. We’ll figure it out together, right? We always have. I’m so sorry your family past has caught up with you and it turned ugly. I swear to you, I know what that’s like. I don’t wish that for you, but it happened. Lean on us. You’ve always been there for us. Let us take care of you. Did you even talk to Bruce about this?”

  He put his arm around her. “Babe. Guys don’t do that kind of shit. We don’t need to get all emotional with one another. It’s bad form.”

  Stella laughed. “Men are so silly. You can’t even share with Bruce that you’re the last of your family? Did you have cousins? Siblings? Even half siblings? I always wished I had them.”

  “Not that I know of.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Anything is possible, but according to the lawyers, no one has suddenly come forward to say they’re related and should get a piece of the pie. It’s a big pie. Millions. Hundreds of millions.”

  Stella pulled back, startled, looking into his eyes. “Hundreds of millions?” Suddenly the casual conversation was not so casual. When had the dreams started exactly? The date? Denver fished in that spot. He hunted. He climbed. He was on the Search and Rescue team. What if he was the actual target because he had money? She hated that the thoughts were instantly pushing into her head, but money was a huge motivator. Huge. And hundreds of millions?

  “Denver, you have to be careful with that kind of money. Make a will and get it wrapped up in a trust or something. You could be very vulnerable.” She took another drink of her Moscow Mule, this time nearly gulping it. It made sense. An outsider might even pay someone to give them information in order to target Denver. A cousin? Even a distant cousin. The lawyer that read him the will? He knew where Denver was. Her head was swimming. She couldn’t think straight.

  “Babe, don’t sound so anxious. No one knows about the money. No one knows where I am, Stella. I swear to you, I’m safe.” Denver caught her chin and turned her face to his. He brushed a kiss to the corner of her mouth and then another to her chin.

  Stella wished she felt something. Anything. There was no fire. Denver pulled back and smiled at her, his thumb brushing down her face as if he could erase her expression.

  “You have to stop or you’re going to get worry lines.”

  She felt Sam’s palm slide beneath her hair and curl around the nape of her neck. She knew it was him without turning. He leaned against her back, his fingers massaging the tension out of her, sending little sparks of electricity dancing over her skin. She’d definitely had too much to drink. She had to remain silent or she was going to blurt out something horrible, like he could possibly be the hottest man on earth.

  “Why would Stella be getting worry lines, Denver?” Sam asked.

  He bent closer so she felt his breath stirring strands of her hair. She needed to hold her own breath to savor that moment. If she breathed too deep, she’d pull his scent right into her lungs, and she didn’t dare do that. His voice. That rich, low voice that brushed over her skin and then sank deep into her bones.

  “She’s worried about me,” Denver said, his voice overloud and a little slurred. He turned slightly on the barstool, a frown drawing his eyebrows together. “Uh-oh. That bastard Bale Landry and his rotten friends are here tonight and Sean is staring at Shabina in a way I don’t like. I didn’t see them come in, did you, Sam?”

  Stella immediately tried to push away from the bar, but S
am held her in place. He trapped her body easily with his larger one, his hand still resting casually on her nape, but he was clearly holding her in place.

  “Don’t go off half-cocked, honey. We need to see what they’re up to before you start a war with them.”

  Denver stood up, staggered and recovered his equilibrium. “They always get ugly with Zahra and Shabina. Mostly Shabina. Bruce is with Zahra, and no one wants to mess with her when he’s around.”

  That was the truth. Bruce was just too big, a mountain of man, mostly muscle. It was known by every local that he crushed hard on Zahra, and saying anything to her could get you on the wrong side of his very powerful fist. Stella could see Bruce dancing in the middle, surrounded by Shabina, Zahra and Raine. They hadn’t noticed Bale, Sean, Edward and Jason swagger up to the bar. The four men ordered beers and immediately turned to watch those dancing.

  “Why do you suppose they keep targeting Shabina and Zahra the way they do?” Stella asked. “I think Bale intimidates Harlow, and that’s hard to do, but they’ve never really gone after me. I wonder why.”

  Sam exchanged a look with Denver over her head. Denver sighed and rubbed her arm. “Babe, no one is going to come after you if they think they’ll have to contend with the two of us. And they’d have to.”

  Stella tilted back her head to look up at Denver and then Sam. She’d definitely had too much to drink. Tilting her head back was a huge mistake. The room began to spin. She flung out her arm to look for something solid to hang on to. At the same time, she clutched her drink. It had mysteriously been refilled. Just like magic. She found Sam’s arm. He had a very good arm. All muscle. Hard. She petted his muscles.

  “I need to get over there, Sam. Someone has to be the voice of reason.”

  “You’re a little drunk right now, Stella,” Sam said. He sounded like the voice of reason, which annoyed her. She was supposed to be the voice of reason. She didn’t get drunk. She got tipsy sometimes, like now, when she was fairly certain her posse needed her to ward off the bad guys circling their group. There were plenty of women to choose to dance with, but no, Bale and his desperate losers had to start critiquing her friends. It was so annoying.

  Sam wrapped his arm around her waist. “Woman.”

  “Man.” She glared up at him. “They need me.”

  “Sam and I can handle it. You sit here and behave.” Denver unexpectedly sided with Sam.

  Stella included him in her glare. She should have known he would switch sides, the traitor. Just because Sam got that implacable look on his face.

  “Babe.” Denver started laughing and held up both hands in surrender. “You’re shooting lightning bolts out of your eyes. You’re going to fry me. The only reason we weren’t banned from the Grill the last time there was an altercation between your girl posse and Bale and his boys was because Alek is a little smitten with you. You saved his bar with your business plan and made the Grill what it is today, so you’re his golden girl.”

  Stella had saved the restaurant, coming up with the idea for music at night and the food that was more than bar food. Shabina had helped with the menu. She hadn’t been alone in the planning. Her friends had sat around with her, thinking up different foods they liked to eat at bars when they were dancing. Stella wanted a place where those renting her cabins would really love to go in the evenings.

  Raine designed a brochure and a PowerPoint presentation for Stella to show Alek. It had worked and he had agreed to try the food and dancing for one month to see if he could bring in the locals along with those she promised from her resort. The results had been astonishing, and since then the Grill was so popular Alek had to hire permanent help along with his temporary workers during the height of tourist season.

  Sam leaned down, his mouth close enough to her ear to be able to be heard above the loud, pulsing music. “Stay put, Stella. Bale and his friends are dangerous when they’re drinking, especially when confronted by women.”

  Denver nodded his agreement. “They can’t be bested by a woman or they’ll need to get back at her in a very public way. You’ve already had one confrontation with them, you don’t need another.”

  She watched the two men make their way to the dance floor. Denver looked as if he had sobered up. He wasn’t staggering at all as he walked beside Sam. Sam just looked … predatory. For her, he would always stand out, no matter where he was. It didn’t make sense that he was supposedly a ghost as Denver had suggested. Her gaze was drawn to him, that confident way he moved, like a jungle cat stalking his prey.

  Stella didn’t understand men like Bale or the others. They had thriving businesses, or at least ones that were getting by in the small town. They had jobs where so many had to have three jobs. Why did they think themselves so superior to women? Especially to a woman like Shabina or Zahra? Both women worked hard. Had their only crime been turning down a date from one of these men? Was Bale really harassing Harlow? A senator’s daughter? Would he dare?

  Stella didn’t take her gaze off Denver and Sam as they walked casually up to the bar close to the dance floor and inserted themselves right next to Bale and his friends. There was satisfaction in noting that the taunting smirks faded when the two men showed up, although that didn’t stop Sean from calling out something nasty as Shabina danced nearby.

  Shabina looked breathtaking. She was naturally graceful and had rhythm, losing herself in the music as she moved with Zahra, Raine and Bruce. She had her slender arms over her head and her eyes closed. Her long, dark hair fell to her waist and moved around her like a waterfall of gleaming silk.

  Stella watched Sean’s expression more closely. She might be tipsy, but she was aware. He had a look of obsession on his face. There was a reason he continually showed up at the Sunrise Café in spite of the warnings not to keep coming back. He might think himself superior and he could tell himself anything he wanted, but he had a real thing for her friend. She switched her gaze to Sam. Naturally, Sam noticed because he saw everything.

  She let her breath out. Sam would be such a great ally to have. He did see everything. He was careful. He listened to her and weighed what she said carefully. If she could rule him out as a suspect— and honestly, she didn’t for a minute really think he was a serial killer— then he would be the person she would want to confide in. He fit with her. She didn’t know why, only that he did.

  She switched her attention to Denver. He had warned her about Sam, but he had done so gently, not in a mean way. She could tell, in spite of his warning to her, he did like Sam and respected him even more. He was just careful of her, like a sibling might be. She was closed off to everyone and had put herself off-limits. Denver respected those limits. Sam always had as well. Sam seemed to be stepping over them all of a sudden.

  “This seat taken?”

  Stella looked up. Carl Montgomery, the local contractor, slid onto the barstool next to her. He was around forty, with dark hair and startling blue eyes. Like most of those living in the town, he was a hunter. He worked hard and expected his crew to as well. Carl had built several of the cabins for her at the resort, and they were exactly what she’d asked for and then some.

  She flashed him a smile. “I don’t see you here very often, Carl. What a nice surprise.”

  “What are you drinking?”

  She looked at her glass. “Moscow Mule, but I think I’ve had a little too much. I’m definitely feeling it.”

  “One night off won’t kill you, Stella. You work too hard.” He leaned over the bar to get the bartender’s attention. “It’s packed in here.”

  Stella looked around. Every table was taken. Every barstool. The dance floor was packed. Along the walls people talked and laughed together, tapping their feet to the music. In the outside covered patio, where the heaters were turned on against the cool night air, she could see those tables were filled as well.

  “Yes, it is.” There was satisfaction in knowing she had helped to make this happen. She made it a point to visit every business in town in an eff
ort to figure out how she could help them become one of the thriving successes, especially if they were faltering. These people had become her friends, and she believed if they helped one another they could all stay afloat during the lean times.

  “You know you stole my best worker.” Carl indicated Sam with a nod of his chin. “I had hoped to make him my foreman. Men like him don’t come along every day. He knows his way around a build.”

  She grinned at him. “I saw that. He’s good with motors too. You waited a little too long before making him a decent offer. I wasn’t going to lose out. He can practically run the resort.” She made a face. “Unless he has to talk to a guest, then, not so much. I wouldn’t say his social skills match his knowledge of repairing just about anything needed.”

  She laughed softly. It was the absolute truth. Most of the time, Sam avoided having to deal with the guests. It wasn’t his job. She had others to do that. He worked behind the scenes to keep the resort running. He’d made it very clear to her when he agreed to take the job in the first place that he wasn’t a people person.

  Carl’s laughter joined hers. “You’re right about that. He isn’t much of a talker. Works hard though. I see he’s over there intimidating the hell out of Sean and Ed. What the hell is wrong with those boys? If they make one more nasty comment toward Shabina, I’ll have to shove my fist down their throats, and I haven’t been in a fistfight since I was twenty. Maybe eighteen. I’m pretty sure it was in high school.”

  “You’ve known them a long time. Have they always been like that?” Stella asked.

  The bartender put drinks and a plate of mixed fried zucchini, mushrooms and cheese sticks in front of them.

  “Thanks, Lucca,” Carl said, pushing a healthy tip the bartender’s way.

  Lucca saluted him and hurried down the line, crushing it, the way he did when he was making several drinks at a time. Alek, the owner, had been smart to hire him when he’d first come into town, offering him enough to get him to want to stay.