Most of the time, though, they’d sat on the porch of the beach house they called home, watching the sunrises and listening to the pounding surf. He’d cherished every moment with her, greedily storing memories for the future. And at the end, he’d held his sweet Annie close to his chest as she passed into the afterlife and vowed he would love her always.
In the years following his wife’s death, Dan Malone became known throughout the small community as a collector of strays—animal and human. He was always bringing home lost or injured animals, much to Jinx’s dismay despite the dog being a rescued stray himself. Dan would heal those he could before finding homes for each one of the wayward domesticated animals. The wild ones, he would release back into their habitats once they were able to survive on their own.
When it came to people, he never met a person in need who he didn’t try to assist, even if it was only in some small way. Sometimes it was buying a meal or giving someone a ride. Other times it might involve offering a few dollars just to help the individual get by. Maura Jennings was his new pet project, and in her case, she needed a place to stay.
Dan knew there was more to Maura’s story than what she’d let on. He had a sixth-sense when it came to people like her. She’d told him she was recovering from an abusive relationship and was looking for a new place to start over. He suspected, however, there was a lot more she wasn’t telling him. She appeared to be a strong woman, physically and mentally, and Dan couldn’t believe she would ever allow a man to strike her or abuse her in any manner, at least not after the first time. Yet, he was a good judge of character and knew, whatever she was running from, the young woman needed his help.
For now, he was letting her stay at the cottage and hoped KC would be able to get her to open up to him. It would probably be therapeutic for both of them. She needed a protector, and KC needed to focus on something other than his career for a change. Dan knew his nephew was considering leaving his SEAL team for a stateside position. Maybe if he had someone waiting for him at home every night, the decision would be easier to make.
C
HAPTER 4
I t wasn’t until one o’clock in the afternoon when Moriah became aware of KC moving around in his bedroom. She heard the sound of the toilet flushing, and then the shower running, and she began to pace the kitchen floor. Since she’d waited this long to talk to him, she guessed she could wait a little longer. Once he finished washing up, she would advise him he had to leave and find another place to stay. As she straightened up the already tidy kitchen, she tried to think of how she could kick him out without sounding as rude as she’d been earlier. Undoubtedly, he wasn’t a man who would willingly take orders from her so she would have to try and charm him.
After she’d recovered from his appearance, and subsequent disappearance, during the middle of the night, she’d gone back to the master bedroom she was using and threw on a pair of sweatpants with a matching zip-up jacket. Then about an hour ago, she’d jumped in the shower and re-dressed into a large red T-shirt, which covered the gun she’d tucked into the back of the waistband of her jeans, and a pair of sneakers. Her long hair was up in a loose ponytail, and her face was devoid of makeup. She’d almost put on her usual eyeliner and blush, but then reminded herself she wasn’t trying to attract KC. In fact, she wanted to do the opposite. She wanted him out of there as soon as possible so she could get some much-needed sleep. And then she would be able to plan her next move.
Moriah jumped a little as KC’s bedroom door swung opened without warning. While daydreaming, she hadn’t realized the shower had stopped. Turning her back to the counter, she waited as he came down the hallway and entered the tiny kitchen off the main living room. If she had thought the room wasn’t that big before, it got even smaller as the mountainous man filled it. His wet hair was gleaming from the shower, and his face was now cleanly shaven. She’d thought he would look less intimidating without the scruff, but realized that wasn’t the case. Just the man’s presence was nerve-racking as her body had an unwanted response to him. Moisture pooled between her legs, and her nipples hardened, forcing her to cross her arms over them. He’d donned another snug T-shirt, this one was gray, and replaced his cargo pants with a pair of faded jeans which were molded to his body in all the right places. He was barefoot, and, for a split second, Moriah wondered why she’d never noticed before that a man’s feet could be sexy. She tore her eyes away from him, horrified at the direction her thoughts had taken.
KC barely glanced at her as he went straight to the cabinet above the coffee maker and grabbed a large mug. Her eyes flicked back to him and roamed over his broad shoulders and strong back. She tried her damnedest to keep her gaze above his waist but wasn’t successful. Damn, he had a beautiful ass. He poured himself some coffee before returning the glass pot to its holder, then pivoted to lean his hips against the counter and crossed his ankles. And since she had been staring at his ass, she was now staring at his groin and the large bulge behind the denim. Blushing, she turned away and tried to busy herself by wiping down the spotless table for two.
Taking a large gulp of the brew, he grimaced and said his first words of the day to her. “How the hell do you drink this stuff? It’s awful.”
Keeping her eyes averted, Moriah shrugged as she brushed invisible crumbs into her waiting hand. “Well, it’s been sitting there since 2:00 a.m.”
KC dumped the coffee from both the mug and carafe down the sink and set about making a new pot. As it brewed, he rifled through the refrigerator and pantry, taking out what he needed, apparently making himself bacon, eggs, and toast. Moriah didn’t think this was the time to point out that he was eating her groceries. If he was aware of her eyes following him around the room, he didn’t acknowledge it. Finding a skillet and utensils with ease was further proof he was comfortable and familiar with the cottage. She wondered if she should wait until he’d finished preparing his meal to ask him to leave or if she should take the plunge and start talking.
With his back to her as he placed several slices of bacon into a skillet on the stove, KC put her dilemma on hold. “Are you hungry?”
She cleared her throat. “Uh, no, thanks. I ate earlier.”
He grunted in response and kept his eyes on his cooking. “So, do you have a name?”
Moriah hesitated a moment before making sure she gave him the fake name she had been using for the past few weeks. She would be changing it again after she left Whisper, anyway, and his uncle already knew her by the alias. “Maura Jennings.”
Removing the bacon and adding four eggs to the skillet, he then popped two pieces of bread into the nearby toaster. “Well, Maura Jennings, why don’t you tell me about yourself, hmm?”
She stared at him, wary of his questions. “Like what?”
“Oh, I don’t know . . . like how come you’re renting my uncle’s place and why you threatened to shoot me with a 9mm last night?”
He still didn’t turn around, and Moriah continued to stare at his muscular back while trying to think of an answer he would accept. “A single woman can never be too careful. The gun is for protection. You never know when some lunatic is going to break in at two o’clock in the morning.”
KC clearly heard the sarcasm she’d added with that last sentence, gave her a quick glance over his shoulder, then went back to making his breakfast. “I said it last night, and I’ll say it again. I didn’t break in. I have a key. And last time I had a psych exam, they determined I wasn’t a lunatic . . . or so they told me.”
What? Was he fucking kidding her? Why the hell was he having psych exams? Maybe she should have called the police.
He added the sunny-side-up eggs to the bacon on a plate, added the buttered toast, then carried his meal to the small bistro set in the corner of the room. As he sat, his gaze flashed toward her, and a smirk spread across his face when he saw her eyes and mouth were wide open while she stared at him. “That was a joke, Maura. I’m in the military. My job requires me to go through a psych exam every o
nce in a while.”
Relief washed over her. Closing her mouth, she felt her shoulders relax a tad. “Oh. Okay.”
She leaned against the counter by the sink and studied him as he ate. His jaw tightened and relaxed as he chewed. His arm muscles rippled as he moved the fork from the plate to his mouth and back again. And, oh, what a mouth it was. His lips were both hard and soft-looking, and Moriah wondered what it would be like to be kissed by lips like his. She bet he was a talented kisser. The man was fucking gorgeous, and there was no way he hadn’t worked his way through hundreds of women over the years. She was curious what his face would look like if those exquisite lips ever turned up into a real smile.
Suddenly conscious of ogling him, Moriah cleared her throat again. “So, is your name C-a-s-e-y or K-C?”
“It’s K-C, as in Kevin Christopher.” At her raised eyebrow, he added, “Nobody’s called me by my full name since I was a kid, and then, only when I was in trouble.”
She cocked her head in curiosity. “Were you in trouble a lot as a kid?”
“That’s putting it mildly.” He pointed his fork at her. “But we’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you.”
Moriah gave him what she hoped appeared to be a bored shrug of her shoulders. “What’s to talk about? I needed a place to stay, and your uncle was kind enough to rent me his house.”
After finishing the bacon and eggs, he soaked up the remaining yolks with his toast. “Where’re you from?”
“Los Angeles,” she lied. Why was he so damn inquisitive?
Swallowing the last of his breakfast, KC raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s odd. You don’t have a west coast accent. More like from the middle states.”
Looking at the floor to hide her astonishment at being caught in a fib, Moriah shrugged again. “Well, my family moved around a lot. I didn’t even know I had an accent.”
He stared at her for a few moments, and she fought the urge to squirm under the scrutiny. If he suspected she was lying further, he let it go for now. “So how did you end up in our little town of Whisper and where did you meet my uncle?”
At least this part of what she was willing to tell him was true. “I’ve been traveling around a lot and ended up at the Wal-Mart over in Elizabeth City. Your uncle noticed me looking at apartment rentals posted on the bulletin board and offered to rent me this place.”
Dan Malone had walked up to her to see if she needed any assistance. He said she seemed ‘lost’. Not trusting a male stranger, Moriah started to walk away from him but stopped when he mentioned a house available for cheap rent. Still skeptical, she took his proffered driver’s license and cell phone. He instructed her to call information for the Dare County Sheriff’s Department phone number, and then ask for the Sheriff or one of his office staff to verify his identity. Mary Schreiber, the secretary, confirmed Dan Malone was a good friend of the Sheriff’s, an upstanding citizen, and he did, indeed, own an empty beach house. She also said Dan was a kind man who was always helping those in need and could be thoroughly trusted.
With the glowing endorsement and no better options, despite the man being friends with the local Sheriff, Moriah took him up on his offer to rent his cottage. He even allowed her to hold his cell phone, when he realized she didn’t have one, until they arrived at the beach house just so she would feel safer. Moriah knew she was crazy to trust someone she didn’t know, but there was something in Dan Malone’s soft, brown eyes that convinced her he was one of the good guys in life. And Lord knew she hadn’t met many of them.
“Yeah, that sounds like Uncle Dan. He’s always bringing in strays.” At her insulted expression, he added, “No offense.”
“None taken,” she mumbled. She didn’t mention the comment struck a chord in her. A “stray” was kind of close to how she felt—all alone in the world, moving from place to place, just trying to survive.
Picking up his plate, KC brushed the crumbs into the sink, rinsed it off, and placed it into the dishwasher along with the fork and knife. He proceeded to clean, dry, and put away the skillet and spatula he’d used, and then wiped down the cooking area with expertise.
As he finished his chores, she put an expectant look on her face. “So, you’ll be leaving now?”
He spun around slowly, crossed his muscular arms over his equally powerful chest and leaned his hips against the counter. “What makes you think that?”
“Well, um . . . ,” she stuttered as she mirrored the position of his arms and cocked her hip. Be firm. “You can’t stay here. I paid Mr. Malone my rent, and I don’t want or need a housemate.”
His narrowed eyes seemed to smolder as they briefly dropped to her ample chest, which had been thrust upward with her annoyed stance. “What do you want then?”
Moriah’s mouth dropped open again, stunned at the suggestiveness in his tone, but after several moments of silence, he shook his head as if clearing his mind. He straightened and brought his gaze back to her face. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go talk to Uncle Dan and ask if I can crash on his couch. It shouldn’t be any problem, although it’s not as comfortable as my bed here.”
She nodded but continued to gape at him as he exited the kitchen. A few moments later, with his sneakers on and keys in hand, KC left without saying another word. It would be another ten minutes before Moriah realized he’d left the rest of his things in the smaller bedroom. She wasn’t sure if she was upset or pleased to know he would have to return for them. And the indecision worried her.
C
HAPTER 5
“S o, as usual, you know nothing about Ms. Maura Jennings. She’s just another needy person in a long line of needy people.”
KC helped restock the shelves in the hardware store while he chastised his uncle. The closest nationwide home-improvement store was about fifteen miles away, so most of the locals still used Malone’s Hardware for convenience and out of a sense of loyalty. In addition to everything a good hardware store kept in stock, Dan also kept a moderate supply of fishing gear and frozen bait for the anglers in the community. Behind the counter were many pictures of very impressive catches made by some of the locals over the years, including a few from KC and his brothers.
The older man sliced open another box of latex paint with the box-cutter he was never without. “I know she’s in some sort of trouble and needs help. What else is there to know?”
KC raised an eyebrow at Dan but continued to work. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe she was trouble and not in trouble?”
“Nope and neither did you.”
Despite rolling his eyes, he knew his uncle was right. He’d seen genuine fear in Maura’s eyes last night and wondered if she had to, could she actually have fired the gun at him?
Handing him two more gallons of semi-gloss paint, Dan continued. “She told me she’d been in an abusive relationship and finally got the courage to leave the guy. She has no family and decided to travel a bit before figuring out where she wants to settle down. She’s afraid the ex-boyfriend will come after her.”
“That would explain the gun.”
Dan froze in surprise. “Gun? What gun?”
He reached over and grabbed the paint cans his uncle held suspended in mid-air. “The one she pulled on me when I let myself into the cottage at two in the morning.”
Dan chuckled. “Got the jump on you, eh? I would’ve given good money to see that.”
“You could have warned me, you know.”
“But where would the fun be in that?” Dan laughed louder as he slapped his oldest nephew on the back. The two of them gathered the empty boxes and tossed them into the rear stock room before heading back to the front of the store. Jimmy, the teenager who worked at the store after school, would break the boxes down later for recycling.
KC followed his uncle to the counter and crouched down to rub Jinx’s belly. Snoring on his back in a sunbeam by the front door, the large dog slept with all four paws in the air. As he straightened again, KC muttered, “Useless mutt.”
>
His uncle began to restock a rack of batteries behind the counter. “Jinx would resent that if he was awake.”
“When I see him earn his keep, maybe I’ll change my opinion of him. Until then, he’s nothing but a useless mutt.”
Dan looked over his shoulder and eyed his nephew curiously. “So, what did you think?”
Unsure what the man was talking about, KC tilted his head. “About what?”
“Not what, who. Maura. She’s a looker, don’t you think?”
Glancing around the store, he avoided making eye contact with his uncle. “I really hadn’t noticed.”
The bold-faced lie received a loud snort. “Sure you didn’t.”
KC knew better than to deny it further—of course, he’d fucking noticed. After all, he was a healthy, heterosexual male, and Maura wasn’t just a looker, she was downright, fucking gorgeous. In the middle of the night, after he closed his bedroom door, he’d been hard as granite, and it wasn’t from the adrenaline of having a gun pointed at him. It’d been a response to all her exposed, feminine flesh. Ever since he’d eyed those long, sexy legs, extending downward from the skimpy T-shirt she’d apparently worn to bed, he could think of nothing else. Well, except maybe what the T-shirt hadn’t shown. It had hung on her slim figure, molding itself to her curves in all the right places. The darkness of her nipples had been visible through the thin cotton. He could just imagine the weight of her breasts in his hands as his thumbs brushed over their stiff peaks.
Take the Money and Run: #1 Malone Brothers Page 3