She had beautiful, auburn hair, which fell to the middle of her back. He’d been disappointed to see it pulled up into a ponytail when he found her in the kitchen earlier. His hand had itched for him to walk over and release the silky strands from their bondage. The reddish-brown color was a perfect contrast to her pale, porcelain skin and sexy, baby blue eyes. She was an erotic beauty from head to toe. Like his younger brother Sean would say, she was a walking hard-on. Yup, he had definitely noticed.
Shaking the vision from his mind before his body could react to it again, he changed the subject. “I was a little surprised you rented the house. None of us have stayed there for more than a week or two in years. Hell, since you live above this place, I’m amazed you never sold it. It’s got to be worth a small fortune in today’s market.”
“Renting it to someone in need is one thing, but you know I would never sell it.” His uncle sounded wistful. “Annie and I bought the place a few weeks after we were married. Scraped together every penny we could and mortgaged it to the hilt. Even when money was tight, your aunt managed to decorate the place, and beautifully, too. She and I painted every room ourselves after she spent hours picking out just the right colors. Annie would scour yard sales and make something useful and beautiful out of other people’s junk. Even on her sickest days, she would be telling me to move something, or dust something, or fluff something, just to be sure everything was perfect.”
KC smiled. He’d heard this story many times since he was a kid and, as it always did, it made him wish he’d known his aunt. She had passed away long before the Malone brothers were born, but they were raised with stories of Aunt Annie. He knew a small bit of his Uncle Dan had died along with his wife many years ago.
“Even though we only had two, wonderful years together there, it will always be our place. I could never give it up. And someday it will belong to you and your brothers . . .” He pointed to KC with a frown. “And if you ever sell it, I’ll come back from the grave and haunt your sorry asses!”
KC’s smile got even bigger. “I’m sure you will. But now that you’ve rented it temporarily, I need a place to crash, so I guess it’ll be on your couch.”
“Um, that’s impossible.”
“Why?” he asked as his eyes narrowed. When his uncle avoided looking him straight in the face, his suspicions grew.
“Well, you see . . . Jinx kind of ate something which didn’t agree with him last week and got sick all over the couch. It stunk to high heaven, and I couldn’t get the stains out, so I had to get rid of it. I haven’t had time to go pick out a new one yet.”
The younger man frowned, and he glared at the sleeping dog. “I told you he was a useless mutt. Now, I have to find another place to crash for four weeks or until you replace your damn couch. Guess I’ll call Brian.”
“Uh, that won’t work either.”
Sigh. “Why the hell not?”
“One of his buddies from the police department was kicked out by his wife, so the guy has been bunking on Brian’s couch until he finds an apartment.”
“Great, just great. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” KC put his hands on his hips in exasperation. He didn’t want to drive back to Little Creek and spend his leave on the base, and Sean lived too far away, in Florida. He still had many friends in Whisper, but none he wanted to impose on for a month.
“Watch your language, and there’s a perfectly good bed back at the cottage.”
Dan pretended to readjust a few things on the shelf behind the counter to hide his smile, but KC still noticed it anyway. What the fuck was the old man up to? “Your renter has made it perfectly clear she doesn’t want a housemate.”
“She has, has she? Well then, why don’t I just talk to Maura, explain the problem, and see if she wouldn’t mind putting up with your surly butt for a few days?” He shrugged. “Until I get a new couch, that is.”
KC grunted. “I’m not surly.” He ignored his uncle’s snort of disagreement. “And I don’t need you to solve my problems for me. I’ll talk to her.”
A chuckle escaped his uncle. “Well, the least you could do is turn on some of the famous Malone charm you allegedly inherited, instead of looking like an ogre.”
He laughed even harder when KC rolled his eyes and pasted an unnatural smile on his face before flashing the older man his middle finger.
* * *
Moriah scanned the deserted beach in both directions before descending from the elevated deck to the patio. It was early in May and too cool for sunbathers and swimmers. Children were still in school, and tourist season didn’t start for another week or two. Over the weekend, there had been a few body surfers in the water, and several people walking or jogging on the beach, but today was a work day, and no one was in sight.
She checked the driveway and the street and didn’t see anything or anyone out of place. Sighing with relief, she returned to the patio. Like most beach houses in the area, this one was built on stilts, and in combination with the dunes, it had avoided flooding during the worst of storms over the past sixty years. Ducking under the house, she crab-crawled her way over to one of the middle supports and knelt down. The sand didn’t seem to have been disturbed since she checked it the day before. Digging with her hands, she uncovered a black, nylon gym bag and pulled it part of the way out of the hole. Unzipping the bag, Moriah stared at the contents. Cash. Cold, hard cash. Almost one hundred thousand dollars. She still couldn’t fathom that much money. Money her family had been killed for, and the reason she was on the run. Brushing back her tears, she took several hundred dollar bills from one of the many bundles, zipped up the bag and buried it again in the hole. She tried to make the sand look untouched in case someone glanced under the cottage. Stuffing the money into her back pocket, she crawled out to the patio again. Looking around and still seeing nothing amiss, Moriah brushed the sand off her jeans and hands before heading back into the house.
She decided that after lunch she would walk the seven blocks to Main Street and the general store to pick up a few things. Not too much, because when she eventually left Whisper, she didn’t want to be bogged down with extra baggage. She was positive the money wasn’t marked—it was doubtful drug dealers would do that sort of thing—so there was no way she could be traced by using it. The money was one of the few things keeping her alive, and she intended to stay that way.
While preparing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Moriah heard a car pull into the driveway, and the engine cut off. She knew who it probably was but, still wary, she peeked out the kitchen window and saw KC climb out of a shiny, black Dodge Charger. The car fit the man, sleek, dark, and sexy. A few moments later, as she was pouring a glass of milk, she was startled when the back door suddenly opened, and KC walked in. The man walked so softly, she never heard him come up the steps to the deck. Moving over to the table with her lunch, she sat down, trying hard not to look distressed, as he walked into the kitchen.
“Hi.” She figured, at least, she could try to be nice, even though she was asking him to leave. “Did you get everything straightened out with your uncle?”
“Yeah, well, about that . . .” He paused, looking everywhere but at her.
Uh-oh. This didn’t sound good.
“It appears I have nowhere else to go at the moment. Everyone’s sofas are either already taken or out of service.”
“But . . . but you can’t stay here,” Moriah stammered, beginning to feel like a broken record. There was absolutely no way she could let him stay with her. Only if hell froze over.
Holding his hands out to the side, he gave her a pleading expression. “Look, I know you didn’t plan on having a roommate, but I’m only here for a few weeks, and then I’m gone. Back to work. I’ll stay out of your way and give you money for the utilities and food.” He kept talking as Moriah stood, shaking her head. “I promise I’ll clean up after myself, and you won’t even know I’m here.”
She almost laughed in his face. There was no way she couldn’t, and wouldn
’t, know he was there. All sexy six foot five, 220 pounds of him. All solid muscle. Top it off with hair she was dying to touch and smoldering eyes which seemed to see straight through to her soul every time he looked at her. No, she would definitely know he was there.
“I can even help you out.”
At that, Moriah stopped shaking her head and eyed him curiously. She nibbled on her bottom lip for a few seconds, wondering what he was talking about. “How?”
A devilish grin spread across his handsome face as if he knew he’d found a chink in her armored resolve. “Uncle Dan told me about your ex and how you’re running away from him. The gun is good to have for protection, but if you get caught without it, how do you plan on defending yourself?”
As much as she hated to admit it, he did have a point. Without that gun, she was helpless. “I hadn’t really thought of that.”
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Do you know how to shoot that thing, anyway? You were holding it right, but it didn’t look natural in your hands.”
“A gun is supposed to look natural?” She let out a very unladylike snort. “That sounds like an oxymoron.”
The corner of KC’s mouth twitched in amusement. “If you know what you’re doing, and practice enough, it becomes natural after a while. I can give you a few lessons and show you some self-defense moves in exchange for the spare bedroom.” He paused. “I also have a good ear if you care to talk about anything.”
Moriah stood in silence for a minute, mulling over what he was offering. She could actually use the training. If the people chasing her found her, she had no experience fighting for her life. Hell must be having a blizzard warning because she straightened her shoulders and looked him right in the eyes. “The ear I don’t need. The lessons I do. You have a deal, as long as you respect my privacy while you’re here.”
“Deal. If you want, we can start training right after you have lunch.”
Moriah nodded in agreement, but inside she was wondering if she just made the second biggest mistake of her life.
C
HAPTER 6
A huge, black and white sign stating, “Big Al’s Gun Shop and Firing Range” hung above the brick building KC parked in front of. The place was nestled between a tattoo parlor and seedy strip joint. The surrounding, run-down area wasn’t much to look at, but it was, ironically, one of the safest parts of town since most of the local cops and residents in the military were members of the range.
Big Al’s was twenty minutes and two towns west of Whisper, but it was the only place which had an indoor shooting range within a fifty-mile radius. You had to be a registered member to use the range. However, you were allowed to bring one adult guest at a time. Uncle Dan and his three nephews had remained members, even though KC and Sean had moved from the area. The membership came in handy when they were in town visiting. They’d had many target-shooting matches over the years and although his nephews were all expert marksmen and a lot younger than he was, Dan Malone prevailed as the winner more often than not. It was a skill he had perfected long ago in the Army and maintained as he aged.
Glancing at Maura, KC took in her apparent nervousness. “Are you ready for this?”
She met his eyes and shrugged her shoulders. “I guess we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“I guess we will. Don’t worry. With a little practice, you’ll be shooting like a professional in no time.”
Her dubious expression said she didn’t believe him, but she didn’t argue with him. “I’m not worried about that, but is this place safe?”
Climbing out, KC skirted the vehicle to help her up from the low seat. “Trust me, it’s safe.”
As he escorted her into the shop, he became very aware of her, and it felt natural to be walking beside her. Her hair smelled like lilacs or some other flower, and the scent went straight from his nose to his groin. Maybe if he played his cards right . . .
What in the hell am I thinking? Asshole, you’re thinking with your dick and not your brain! This woman was running from an abusive ex and carried a gun. He didn’t need to become any more involved with her than he already was. He would teach her how to defend herself during the four weeks he was here, relax the rest of the time, and then he would be gone. He could keep his raging libido in check for a month. End of story. Yeah, right, jackass. Keep dreaming.
The inside of Big Al’s was quiet, except for the muffled sound of gunfire coming from the range located in the basement of the shop. The odor of gunpowder and oil hung in the air, but it wasn’t overpowering, and KC breathed in the all too familiar scent.
Al stood behind one of the locked display cases which were filled with every type of legal weapon you could possibly buy. Stacks of ammunition and gun cleaning supplies were piled on the shelves behind him. He was about six foot even, 300 pounds—hence his nickname—and appeared to have a permanent scowl on his face. Beside him, he felt Maura stiffen. He understood her reaction since the man gave the impression of someone you never wanted to meet in a dark alley . . . or anywhere else for that matter. But then Al smiled when he spotted them, and his facial features softened dramatically.
“Hey, KC, my man! I didn’t know you were in town. How’s it hanging?”
Al extended his mitt of a hand to KC, who gave it a hearty shake. “Great, Al. I’m on leave for four weeks. Just got back last night. How’ve you been?”
“I’m doing better now that you brought this beautiful little lady in to see me.” He waggled his eyebrows toward Maura, who visibly relaxed and smiled at his intentional teasing.
KC leaned down until his mouth was near her ear and lowered his voice to a false whisper which was meant to be overheard by the big man. “Gotta be careful around Al. He’s the world’s biggest flirt, and the ladies can’t seem to resist his charm. It’s a surprise his wife, Tessa, hasn’t kicked him out yet.”
Maura laughed at his playfulness. “I’ll have to remember that.”
Bringing his voice back to normal, he gestured with his hand toward the two of them. “Maura, this is Al. Al, this is Maura. She’s renting my uncle’s cottage.”
Al glanced at KC, then back at Maura with a stunned expression. “Really? You must have made an impression on the old man. I’ve never heard of Dan renting the cottage to anyone but family.”
Maura gave him a sassy grin. “So, I’ve heard. It’s nice to meet you, Al.”
“Nice to meet you, too, pretty lady.” He winked at her. “And for what it’s worth, my Tessa knows I’m a bit of a flirt, but I’ve never strayed. I’m too sharp to screw up a good thing. Now, what can I do for you today?”
KC answered for her. “She needs to get in some practice, so I figured I’d bring her in as a guest.”
“No problem there.” Opening a drawer beneath the counter, he pulled out a piece of paper and a pen. “Just need you to sign a waiver and then you can head on down to the range.”
Ten minutes later, Maura was standing in a cubicle, holding her Smith & Wesson 9mm down range, with her eye and ear protection on, staring at a target. It was in the shape of the head and upper torso of a man and was hanging at a distance of fifteen feet. As he adjusted his own protection gear, KC stepped behind her with his head over her right shoulder. He spoke loud enough for her to hear him over her earmuffs. “We’ll start at this distance, and as you improve we’ll increase it, okay?”
“Okay. You’re the boss.”
KC nearly groaned out loud as his body responded to her nearness. If he took a half a step forward, his stiff cock would be nestled against her lower back. And if he bent his knees . . . fuck! He shifted to give his hard-on some relief, then forced his mind to concentrate on her training. “Okay. First things first. Never point a gun at someone you don’t intend to kill. Unless you’re a sharp shooter with years of experience, it’s only in the movies where you shoot to wound someone. And firing a warning shot is also Hollywood in action, in the real world there’s no such thing. Always keep the gun pointed at the ground unless you’
re aiming at a target. Be aware of who and what is near your target. It’ll help keep you from accidently shooting anyone else, but there are no guarantees.” He put his right foot between hers and tapped her sneakers. “Move your feet so they’re shoulder-width apart and put your right foot a little behind your left.”
She followed his instructions. “Like that?”
Assessing her positioning, he nodded his head. “Good, just like that. Now, extend your arms straight out with your right hand around the grip. Your left hand goes around and under your right, supporting it. You want your finger to be out of the trigger guard until you’ve made the decision to shoot, so you don’t fire the weapon by mistake.”
* * *
The gun felt as hefty and repulsive in Moriah’s hand as it had the night before. It’d come with the duffel bag full of money, and she’d never fired it . . . or any other gun for that matter. Hell, last night, when KC had come through the door unexpectedly, was the first time she’d ever pulled the firearm out and pointed it at someone. She’d been so relieved when it hadn’t gone off accidentally. She wasn’t sure if she could ever actually fire the gun at someone and quietly prayed she would never have to find out, but it was a good idea to learn how to use it properly, just in case.
Up to ten people could shoot at the same time in the underground, windowless range. Moriah felt a little shiver go down her spine as KC stepped closer to her back within the small cubicle that separated them from three other shooters. She wasn’t sure if the tremor was because of his close proximity or the ugly weapon in her hand. His warmth and strength surrounded her as he instructed her how to stand and aim at the target. He smelled of spices and salt air, but the scent was very definitely male and made her a little lightheaded. Even though it was muffled by the ear protection she wore, his deep voice was calm and soothing as he gave her directions. Feeling his breath on the nape of her neck, her body let go of another involuntary shudder.
Take the Money and Run: #1 Malone Brothers Page 4