Shaw's Landing (Haunted Hearts Series Book 4)

by Denise Moncrief

  Oh, how she wished he’d put his arm around her for a more romantic reason. His action seemed protective more than anything, and even though she appreciated the thought, she wasn’t sure how much she needed him to protect her. She wanted more than that. Every time he touched her, she wanted to lean into his touch, to succumb to the deep need that vibrated in every nerve and sinew.

  They’d only seen each other a few times, spent very little time together, yet the man drew her to him. He seemed to be everything she wanted. Strong and confident, yet with a sense of humor. Shaw seemed to know what he wanted and went after it, while still being mindful of the needs of others. If he had any weakness, it was caring too much, to the point of taking on too much of other people’s problems. He was offering her a safe haven without expecting anything in return. He was an unusual man. No one had ever given her anything without expecting some sort of payment.

  The best thing about Shaw Bennett? He was nothing like Jared Crenshaw. Shaw was clean. His sense of right and wrong didn’t allow him to understand why a man would beat a woman or why a woman would keep going back to a man who had beat her. He had his own code, and he stuck to it…most of the time.

  The man seemed too good to be true. If only he wanted her.

  She wanted to explain herself to him, so he wouldn’t think she was…what? Weak. Inconsistent. Shallow. Pathetic. Or just like Haskins… She wasn’t any of those things; at least, she didn’t think she was. But certainly her behavior might lead him to believe otherwise. He’d told her he understood why she kept going back to Jared, why she did the things she did to survive. But did he really? Courtney wasn’t sure that she understood her own psychology.

  What did Shaw really think of her? Did she really want to know?

  No reservoir of liquid relief was left in her tear ducts. If she was going to cry for what might never be, then she had nothing left to expend. All her grief was gone. She’d used it up when she found out she was Fred Haskins’s daughter.

  A glimmer of light caught her eyes. She glanced toward the pendant she’d found on the dock. It lay on the coffee table next to the sofa, its chain coiling on itself, almost the way a snake curled before striking.

  She shuddered. Why was she all of a sudden thinking about snakes?

  She shook off the thought and reached for the pendant. When her skin met the gold, an electric shock zipped through her fingertips all the way up her elbow and into her neck. She jerked her hand back. Had to be static electricity. She touched it again, and sparks flew from the pendant, streaking toward her. She bolted upright into a seated position, inching away from the pendant toward the other end of the sofa.

  The room darkened and seemed to spin around her, the sofa floating as if on a tumultuous ocean. A black form leeched from the center of the pendant, hovering over the table until it coalesced into the shape of a man. Two red orbs glowed where the eyes would be if the mass were a living human. Evil surrounded her, a tangible living thing. She knew it when she felt it. She hadn’t felt it so strong since she’d watched the blackness lift Lucy Kimbrough off her feet and then toss her to the floor like a used paper towel.

  Courtney pressed her hands against her temples. Her brain seemed to pound to a frenetic beat inside her skull. “What do you want?” she managed to stutter through trembling lips.

  She placed one hand over the other to keep from jerking violently. Her knees began to bounce in rhythm with the pulse pounding in her head.

  The mass passed over her, encompassing her.

  Death.

  The word zoomed through her mind. Inaudible yet very much understood.

  She glanced toward the gun that lay on the table next to her. Without thought, she lifted it and turned it toward her temple. What was she doing? She was being compelled to move against her will, as if her hands were no longer part of her body, as if her arms and legs belonged to someone else, to the black mass that was now controlling her movements.

  Her hand trembled with the gun pressed against her flesh. “Let me go.” Each word squeezed from between almost paralyzed lips.

  Death is here.

  She closed her eyes, knowing that any moment, her finger would pull the trigger and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Then she remembered. The safety was still on. Even if she were forced to act, nothing would happen.

  Maybe ghosts were just not that smart.

  “Leave me alone.” Her bravado rang around the room, followed closely by the most hideous laughter she’d ever heard. Booming from her mouth, it seemed to crawl under her skin and dig into her flesh and bone.

  “Let go of me,” she demanded with a little less force.

  Her vision blurred. Her eardrums pounded to a syncopated beat. The tears she had believed she could no longer produce dripped down her cheeks. Freezing cold ripped through her, like she was being freeze-dried from the inside out.

  You belong to death.

  Every part of her seemed frozen, unable to move or react. Until a scream heaved up from her gut and stormed out of her mouth, so loud and piercing it rattled the panes in the window. Her finger twitched, and she knew deep in her soul the entity was playing a sick game with her. Torturing her. Exacting every last ounce of amusement from her fear. Just as she was about to give up and let death have her, the door banged open.

  She caught one glimpse of Shaw’s horrified expression before the darkness receded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving her without any leftover energy. She collapsed onto the sofa, and it was only then that she realized she’d been suspended in the air.

  Broken. She felt broken inside and out.

  Courtney held out her hand with the pendant still clutched in her fingers. When had she picked it up? The gun dropped from her other hand and clattered to the floor.

  “Oh my God, Courtney.” Pointing toward the pendant, he asked, “Where’d you get that?”

  “He called himself death.” Not an answer to his question, but it was all she could push past still frozen lips.

  Shaw’s face drained of color. “Michael Palmer,” he whispered.

  He trembled, and she was amazed at the emotion that flowed from the man. Anger. Sympathy. Concern. Sorrow. But most of all, righteous indignation.

  “Where did you get that?” he asked again, nodding toward the necklace in her hand.

  “I found it on the dock.” Warmth was finally returning to her body.

  His eyes popped with fear. Never had she seen the man afraid. He grabbed her up into his arms and held her so tight she believed she might break into two pieces. Before, when she was daydreaming, she’d wanted his embrace, but not like this. Courtney went limp, and no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make her limbs cooperate, couldn’t return his embrace.

  “I’m not going to leave you here by yourself at night again,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Really? You promise?” she slurred her reply.

  “I promise.” He drew in a deep, shuddery breath. “If you see it again, don’t touch it. Leave it where you find it.”

  Terror zoomed through her. “Get rid of it.” She wanted the thing far away from her.

  “How? Throwing it in the lake doesn’t seem to work.”

  The horror increased. Tossing it in the creek had been her solution for getting rid of it. She leaned back and studied the tension in his jaw, the fear in his eyes. He placed a hand on her cheek, a gentle touch. Jared had never touched her like that. She swayed toward him and his arms slipped around her once again. Her jumpy nerves settled.

  “It has to be destroyed or it will continue to harass us.” He seemed to be thinking out loud.

  Us? Who was it harassing? Who had it harassed before? Who was Michael Palmer?

  He released her, stepped back, and pried the necklace from her stiff fingers. With his free hand, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her toward the door. She stared at her other hand, the one that had held the pendant. In the center of her palm was the perfect replica of phoenix rising.

/>   Shaw stopped suddenly as if sensing her preoccupation with her hand. His eyes widened before he spoke. “Let’s put something on that… Is it a burn?” It was clear he hadn’t said the first thing that tumbled through his mind. His fear seemed to ratchet up another level.

  She stared at the strange red mark. “It doesn’t hurt.”

  A few wisps of smoke wafted up from the imprint.

  “Can you feel anything in your hand?”

  He wrapped his big hand around her smaller one, covering up the mark of death.

  She looked up into his eyes. “I feel your hand on mine.”

  He seemed to swallow a lump in his throat. “I can’t throw it in the creek again. We’ve already tried that.”

  She shivered at the thought. “You mean…”

  “It keeps coming back. Maybe we could burn it.”

  “It’s made of gold, so it won’t burn easily.”

  He glanced at her with appreciation in his eyes. “How do you know that?”

  She allowed a weary smile to stretch across her lips. “I used to watch a lot of TV waiting for Jared to come home.”

  Hearing Jared’s name seemed to make his jaw tense. She’d seen that reaction before. She needed to move past the mention of Jared…fast. “I know a guy that melts down gold for resale.”

  He nodded. “In town?”

  “No, he lives over in the next county.” She was reluctant to mention Jared again, so she chose her words carefully before she explained how she knew the guy in the next county. “We used to steal gold jewelry and sell it to the guy for meth money.”

  Shaw gazed into her eyes. A look of not sympathy but understanding laced with a fair amount of compassion flared in the depths of them. Not the reaction she’d expected.

  “Never mind how you know the guy. Let’s go see him and get rid of this thing.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Courtney rolled onto her side when someone nudged her.

  “Wake up, sleepy head.” Shaw’s deep bass voice rumbled in her ear.

  She groaned and ignored him.

  “Come on, I thought you wanted to go fishing this morning.”

  No, she hadn’t really, but she thought she might indulge him. Fishing seemed to be his thing. Last night, it had been easy to agree to get up early. This morning was another thing. Courtney was not a morning person. Apparently, Shaw was.

  She opened one eye a slit and groaned again. “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

  Shaw laughed, and she wallowed in the pleasant sound of his laughter, but she refused to open her eyes in case she was dreaming.

  He grabbed her hands and pulled her into a seated position. “Before sunrise is the best time to go fishing.”

  When he released her, she fell backward and sank into the pillow.

  “Okay, then. Suit yourself. But I’m going to spend a little time on the dock watching the sun come up…with a fishing line tossed into the creek.”

  She snorted and opened her eyes. “You can’t eat anything that comes out of that creek.”

  “Sure, I can. Where do you think our catfish came from?”

  He had her attention. She smirked. “It was probably frozen.”

  His expression turned to horror. “How can you say that? We only served food made from the freshest ingredients.”

  “Yeah, well that’s what every fast food chain in the world says too.”

  He placed a hand on his heart. “Woman, you wound me. One day I’m going to open this place again, and I can’t let rumors go around about frozen catfish pieces. It’d ruin my business. Please do not compare Shaw’s Landing to a fast food restaurant. Not nice, Courtney.”

  “How are you going to stop me from talking?”

  A grin spread across his face. “You really want me to tell you how I’d keep you from talking?”

  That almost sounded…flirty.

  She pushed him off the bed where he’d parked his behind, and he thumped onto the floor.

  “Ouch. You don’t have to be that way.” He rose to his feet and hovered over her with a strange, almost mushy expression on his face.

  She smiled and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The previous night after they’d finally returned from their trip to see Butch over in Peyton County, he’d insisted she take the bed while he slept on the sofa. She’d been too exhausted to argue, even though sleeping in the same bed that Gray and Tori had occupied grossed her out a little bit. He was her brother, after all. She’d checked the sheets before she’d fallen onto the bed, hoping there was no evidence left over from their passion.

  Courtney hadn’t slept well, wondering if Shaw was as wide-awake as she was. A few times, she was certain she’d heard him pacing in the living room. Once, she heard the refrigerator in the kitchen open. She could have used a few more hours of sleep. How did the man manage to keep going on so little rest?

  “Okay, okay. I’m awake. Just give me a moment to take care of my morning business.”

  He stepped aside and waved his hand toward the attached bath. She glanced over her shoulder. Was he going to stand in the middle of the bedroom waiting for her to finish pottying? That was more than a little uncomfortable. For some silly reason, she didn’t want the man to know she ever went to the bathroom.

  When she returned to the bedroom, he had vanished, so she went in search of him. He wasn’t in the apartment. He’d left the outside door wide open, so she descended the stairs to the lower deck of the restaurant. She finally located him digging around in a shed attached to the back of the building. He backed out of the door with a fishing pole in his hand. Then, he lifted a bucket of what appeared to be dirt from the deck and walked the few paces toward her.

  “I dug us up some bait.” He plunged his fingers into the dirt and then dangled a wiggling worm in front of her.

  She backed up and scowled. “Looks like you have only one pole.” Too bad you’ll be the only one fishing today, Shaw. Her internal sarcasm nearly made her laugh aloud.

  He smiled at her as if he’d read her mind. “One pole is all we need. I’m going to prop it on the railing and leave it while we watch the sunrise.”

  She placed both hands on her hips. “That’s what this is? Watching the sunrise? Was this never about fishing? I’m not much on watching the sun come up, Shaw.”

  “You have no idea what you’re missing.” He paused. “I’m beginning to believe you don’t appreciate the morning.”

  “No, I do not.” She glanced at the heavy bait bucket. “How many fish do you think are still alive in that sludge?”

  “I have caught plenty of fish out of the creek.”

  “And you eat them?”

  “Hell, no, I don’t eat them. I throw them back.”

  The expression on his face was priceless. He looked as if the thought of eating the fish he caught was gross. That was good. At least, the man had a definition for gross.

  He lifted a lantern from the deck and nodded toward the path to the dock. “Come on. Let’s get this line cast before the sun comes up.”

  She shook her head. The man was insane. What person in their right mind got up before the butt crack of dawn to go fishing of all things? And especially if all they were going to do was toss the line in the water and wait for something to happen?

  When they were finally settled, and he had the line dropped into the murky waters of Ashley Creek, he leaned against the railing facing her. “Butch is a strange man.”

  She laughed. “He is, isn’t he?”

  But he would accept gold for melting no questions asked. When Shaw had refused to take payment, Butch had stared at him like he was from another planet. Shaw had offered no explanation for their strange late night visit. No doubt, Butch was well aware that Shaw was a cop.

  Butch was not her friend. He was barely an acquaintance. She might have described him as a Confederate-flag-waving skinhead. The do rag he was wearing when she knocked on his door last night had a skull and cross bones imprinted on it with the flag in the backgrou
nd. She’d turned to Shaw to get his reaction to Butch, but the man hadn’t even blinked. He probably dealt with all sorts of people in his line of work.

  “He has some strong opinions.” Shaw was obviously digging for her opinion.

  “I don’t agree with most of the crap he spews. He’s kind of known for being psycho. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t go back into the mountains one day to prepare for the end of the world or the revolution to come.” She rolled her eyes.

  The mountains around Fairview had hosted more than its share of hermits waiting for the world as they knew it to collapse.

  “There seems to be a lot of that around north Arkansas.”

  She sighed and inched along the rail toward him. How much closer could she get before he moved away? Her heart longed to be near him, to feel him next to her.

  “I’ve never met anyone more psycho than Lucy Kimbrough. Not even Butch.”

  He turned and glanced toward his line. “They don’t seem to be biting yet.”

  “They ain’t gonna bite, Shaw. It’s already getting hot out here. Let’s go back inside.”

  The sun wasn’t up yet, and she was already sweating like a pig. She needed a shower and couldn’t remember the last time she’d had one. At Mrs. Grayson’s, she thought.

  He turned again and leaned his elbows on the railing, a little closer to her than he had been before he checked his line. “I thought you were an outdoors girl, the way you hiked into here the back way.”

  She shrugged. “I do what I have to do. I’m not saying that was fun or my favorite thing in the world to do.”

  “What is your favorite thing in the world to do?”

  He had asked a question for which she had no answer. She’d never been allowed to explore what she liked since she’d become an adult. Anything she’d shown interest in, Jared had stomped on with both feet.

  “When I was still in high school, Josh always told me I had a good imagination. He said I should write books or something.”

  “Is that something you’d like to do?” Shaw seemed truly interested.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never tried it.” She paused. “But I like imagining other worlds and other people and what my life would be like if I had made other choices. I daydream about being someone else living somewhere else doing other things. Does that sound crazy?”