Paths (Killers #2)

by Brynne Asher

  I say nothing about hoping to someday be brave enough to get my Virginia PT license so I can work here in another capacity, and simply say while shrugging, “I like it here, too. The feeling is mutual.”

  Stephanie smiles at me. “Thanks for stopping to say hi, Maya.”

  “Of course.” I turn back to Mr. Acogi one more time. “Enjoy your tour.”

  He smiles. “I already have.”

  *****

  Ron MacLachlan –

  Upstate New York

  “Boss, you got a call.”

  “I told you I didn’t want to be bothered,” I yell without looking back.

  Fucking recruits. We had a break from the cold and all I asked for was a couple hours to sit and fish. Can they not handle any-fucking-thing? I hardly get to the lake house anymore as it is.

  “Sorry, boss. It’s Jeff. I told him you ordered no interruptions, but he wouldn’t have it. Said I’d be in a fuckload of trouble if I didn’t get you right away. I like to walk straight and don’t want a hole in my foot.”

  When I look over, our newest and most motivated recruit in a long time, Trevor, is holding a cell out for me.

  I fucking hate cell phones, too. We never had trouble doing business back in the day when we couldn’t be reached at a moment’s notice. If anything, it was easier back then.

  If one of my lieutenants insists, I know it’s a big deal, so I shift my reel to one hand and take the fucking cell. Jeff went south to visit family, which really makes me wonder what this shit is about.

  “What?” I clip.

  “The kid said you’re at the lake fishing. Sorry to interrupt.”

  “Glad you’re sorry, but you’re still interrupting. What do you want?” Not one nibble all day, and now that I have a fucking phone to my ear, my bobber dips.

  “I’m in Virginia visiting my uncle.”

  Shifting the phone to my ear, I slowly reel in the slack on my line. “Did you forget my Nancy made him baked ziti with sweet sausage? Just got my first bite all day and you call to tell me something I fucking know?”

  “We had it last night. He loved it. Send my gratitude to Nancy. That’s not what I’m calling about.”

  My line pulls taut and I stand to give it a good yank to sink my hook. “I’m gonna throw this cell in the water if you don’t tell me something I care about real fucking quick.”

  “Boss,” he starts and his voice dips, finally getting to it. “I found something you’ve been looking for.”

  “It better be the holy grail, Jeff.” I wind my reel slowly as my rod arches.

  “Sorry, Ronny, no. But maybe the next best thing. I found Weston’s woman.”

  I stop reeling and grab the cell with my hand. “What the fuck?”

  “Yeah. I’d love to say it’s because I tracked her down, but I didn’t. We all know she left no trail. It was pure luck I found her. She works at a retirement facility I was touring for my uncle. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw her. Thought it couldn’t be, but they introduced her as Maya. Surprised she stuck with her real name. I have no doubt it’s her. She doesn’t know me—we don’t need to worry about her getting spooked.”

  I thrust my rod at the recruit and turn, moving quickly from the dock. “I want all the details. Don’t leave anything out. You sure she didn’t recognize you?”

  “I’m sure. I’ve only seen her from afar and in pictures since she vanished. Now she only knows me as someone’s nephew. I don’t think she’d have any reason to be suspicious.”

  “Stay,” I order. “Watch her ‘til I send Byron to you, then you can come home. Keep this quiet for now. Weston’s gonna go crazy when he learns we found her. I need more information first. I’m not calling the Augustines, either. You handle Byron when he gets there. Make this your first priority, hear me?”

  “Sure thing, boss.”

  Jeff goes into detail about where he found her, what she said, and everything he knows. It isn’t fucking much, but it’s enough. She’s been gone for months. With what happened, I would’ve thought she’d gone farther. Maybe she went far enough. It’s not like we found her by our own talents—she fell into our laps.

  As much as I hate to admit it, sometimes a bit of luck is all that’s needed. Or maybe it’s the million candles Nancy has lit since she left. Whatever it is, I’ll take it.

  Weston will be another story.

  My son—the longer she’s been gone, the more agitated he’s become. He knows he fucked up and caused this shit storm. But if Jeff’s right and this is really her, we can bring her home.

  I’ve just gotta figure out how without causing too much angst with the Augustines. Once she’s back, we’ll deal with her.

  One step at a time.

  Chapter 3 – Cream Puff

  Grady –

  “You think yer tough, huh?” he slurs, his big body shifting to the side, catching his balance. I don’t know exactly what he does to get like this, but I don’t think it’s just from drinking. This seems different.

  Without taking my eyes off him, I say to Peyton, “Go find the girls. You know what to do.”

  “You little fucker.” The man sways before looking over my head. “Don’t you move, Peyton. You girls left a fuckin’ mess. ‘Spose to clean this shit up before I get home.”

  “Get home from where?” I ask, taking a step closer, trying to get his attention back to me.

  “Grady,” Peyton calls for me through her tears, not doing what I told her to. I feel her hand grab at my arm to keep me from moving closer to him, but I shrug her off.

  “Go,” I stress. She needs to hide now before I can’t keep him from her. I’ve started to put on some weight, but he’s still got at least sixty pounds and five inches on me. No way can I protect her once he gets started.

  “Little fucker,” he repeats, too few brain cells to come up with anything new. “Yer fuckin’ thirteen. You think you can stop me from teachin’ those girls not to make a mess in my house?”

  I think I hear Peyton scurry off. I hope she does what I’ve told her to. If not, we’re all in for it, not just me. “Fourteen. I had a birthday six months ago, but you wouldn’t know. You’ve been drunk for years.”

  And he has. He was always a drinker but it’s been worse since Mom’s been gone.

  His arm comes up, but I’m quicker. I’ve learned to be out of self-preservation, but football taught me to be even faster. Most guys my age go out for football for the love of the sport. I doubt many pray they make the team so they can bulk up and learn to dodge an uppercut to better survive at home. Or to have another excuse for the bruises. And I need every excuse I can get.

  He fumbles then trips. “Damn you!”

  My newfound agility pisses him off and he really comes for me. I try to dodge him again, but no matter how quick I am or how off he is from whatever he’s high on, his sixty pounds and five extra inches win.

  The next thing I know, I see stars…

  I jerk awake, pain shooting through my shoulder from my body wracking. The remote goes flying, hitting the floor, and when I look up, game highlights are on the screen.

  Fuck. The dreams won’t stop.

  I’ve never needed a lot of sleep to function, even to be on my game. But I can’t say I’ve ever been afraid of sleep. Hell, I’ve never been afraid of anything.

  I look at my phone and it’s early. I must have drifted off after dinner. The days are so damn long sitting around here, but the nights are even longer. They last for-fucking-ever.

  The cameras ding, telling me there’s movement in the woods, and when I open the app, there are multiple
alerts. It’s probably what woke me, not that I mind. Ever since Crew and I got back to the States, my shithead father invades my dreams. Fifteen years later, from the grave, he’s still fucking with me. After all this time, his tormenting doesn’t stop.

  Because of Crew’s business and training the up-and-coming assassins, this property has got to be one of the most heavily secured pieces of land outside of the beltway. When Crew made Addy his, he extended that security to the vineyard, too. The alerts mean the cameras and sensors have picked up something in the woods, and like it does every time since I’ve returned from the assignment from hell, it makes my insides tighten.

  When I click to the cameras, there she is—running.

  Always running. I almost missed it.

  I should turn off my phone and give her privacy. She has no idea every time she runs, I can’t take my eyes off her.

  Seeing her face as she moves quickly through the trails of the vineyard, she’s focused and deep in thought, different than how she looks when she’s working in the tasting room. There, she’s antsy—even nervous.

  Just like every time I watch her over the cameras—which is everyday—no matter if she’s coming, going, running, or sitting on her porch, I know I shouldn’t look, but I do.

  I can’t stop.

  At first, I realized this made me a slimeball—watching a woman over cameras for pure escapism—but I don’t give a shit. If I wasn’t worried about being a slimeball, I should be really fucking worried about my mental capacity that I’m watching her and don’t care.

  But I adjust the cameras and do what I do every day. I watch so I don’t think about anything else.

  Nothing but her.

  *****

  Maya –

  “I just talked to Morris. Next year I want to go bigger and better in the fall. The Thanksgiving tasting was such a hit—I want to start earlier in October. In the spring, we’ll plant a pumpkin patch for kids and only request a donation to go to charity. Expanding the menu to include some kid-friendly meals or treats might be a good addition. Maybe it will give adults another reason to visit.”

  Addy is filling Evan and me in on her plans for next year. I worked hard to become a physical therapist and never planned to wait tables. It sort of makes me sad to think I might not be here next year to experience her bigger and better plans. I don’t know what I expected when I left, but the longer I’m here, the easier it is to breathe, not to mention, I like it. I’m not sure I can make it a whole year without needing to move on. Deep down, I hope I get to stay.

  It’s Friday and the tasting room is becoming more crowded by the hour. Thanksgiving was just last week and Addy has the place decked for Christmas. There are trees everywhere and they’re decorated solely with wine and deer-related ornaments that are all for sale. She even mixed in some cows.

  I grew up in the suburbs and have never been around livestock before. Addy sure loves her cows. When she found out I’m a runner, Addy invited me to walk with her and the cows in the mornings, but I’m usually at the Ranch by that time. Plus, as cute as they are from far away, they smell exactly how one would expect a cow to smell—like a cow.

  I’ve passed on walking with the cows and stuck to my late-evening runs. It’s dark, and out here in the middle of nowhere with no city lights, it’s really dark. I stay on Addy’s property, but I can’t say it doesn’t freak me out to run in the dark by myself. I can’t afford a treadmill, let alone have room for one in my bungalow.

  “Maybe build some fire pits,” Evan offers. “If it’s cold, customers can still be outside and the kids can run around. You can offer s’mores on the menu.”

  “Ooh, that’s good. I’ll ask Morris how best to do that. Fire pits beyond the patio should be an easy addition. What do you think, Maya?” Addy asks.

  She always catches me off guard when she does that. Asking my opinion—like it matters, since I only wait tables. It’s even worse when she asks me something that would give away any personal details of my life.

  I feel my eyes go big and shrug, trying to think of something to add. Pulling from my most recent experience at the Ranch, I offer the only thought that pops into my head. “Maybe some yard games? You know, for the kids and even adults, since you’re trying to entertain them outside.”

  “Yeah, you need to up the entertainment,” Evan agrees as he washes glasses and looks to me. “I keep telling her she needs to stay open late a couple nights a month and have live music. They’d come in droves for that.”

  Addy sighs. “I know they would, Evan, but I already work six days a week, plus all the events. Crew and I are trying to cut back our hours, not add to them.”

  Addy is dating a man named Crew, though I don’t think dating is the right word. He lives with her even though he owns the property next door. I’ve seen him come in with Grady a few times for lunch or dinner, so I assume they know each other. I’ve done my best to stick with my don’t make any friends plan, and I haven’t asked, but I’m so curious it’s becoming a thorn in my side.

  Speaking of my thorn, I look to the front entrance when the big heavy door swings open. My creeper instincts must be honed to perfection, because there he is—Grady, bigger than life like always, with Crew behind him.

  “Hey, you here for lunch?” Addy swiftly moves from behind the counter and greets her boyfriend—or whatever he is—with a kiss.

  Crew doesn’t let her go, keeping her tight to his side and looks down at her with full adoration. “Yeah. I decided to drag Grady out for a late lunch.”

  Grateful for the excuse to finally peek at him, I bite my lip and try to hide my frown when I find him staring at me. It’s sort of a mix between a glare and a stare, but nonetheless, his beautiful, bright-blue eyes shine through his crinkled brow. I should greet them both, or do my job and offer to take their orders, but Grady frowning at me makes me hesitate. I have a feeling it’s all about my pushing the specials on him.

  Hmm.

  That was a couple days ago, but apparently, I made an impression. I’ve resorted back to hiding for the last couple days and successfully avoided him every time he’s come in.

  “How are you feeling, Grady? You look like you’re moving better,” Addy asks.

  Grady’s eyes narrow on me before looking to Addy, muttering, “Better every day.”

  “What happened?” Oh, shit. I hate it when I speak before thinking. That popped out of my mouth before I could stop it, probably because I’ve wondered what happened to him since the first time I laid eyes on him. After moving here, I’ve controlled my curiosity about everything in an attempt to keep my distance, but it’s plain to see Grady was in a serious accident. The health care professional in me—and more recently the creeper—has been gnawing at the bit to find out how he ended up broken, bruised, and scarred.

  If I’m not mistaken, Addy and Crew tense a bit as all eyes move to Grady. He’s staring at me again, those blue eyes a mix of annoyance and curiosity.

  When he doesn’t answer, my mouth starts to run, because the awkward silence is so uncomfortable, I can’t handle it. “You were obviously in some sort of accident and broke your arm, but with your wedge, it’s easy to see it’s more than just your radius and ulna.”

  Grady says nothing, but shifts his weight as his frown deepens.

  But I’m on a roll and can’t help myself. “I’ve seen you this way for weeks now, broken forearms aren’t slung that long anymore, let alone with a wedge. Did you do something to your shoulder?”

  I must have annoyed him into speaking because he finally clips, “I’m fine.”

  “You need to go back to the doctor,” Crew adds. “He told you to come back soon for a follow-up. You’re gonna fuck up that shoulder if you
wait much longer.”

  Grady’s eyes shift to Crew, his blue eyes nothing but angry now. “I said, I’m fine.”

  The mention of his shoulder is too much—I slide right into healthcare mode. “What did you do to your shoulder?”

  Grady looks back across the bar to me. “Nothing.”

  “He dislocated it,” Crew answers for him.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Grady growls at Crew.

  And I thought he was grumpy before. All this back-and-forth has certainly pushed him over the top.

  “How long ago?” I ask, now more concerned than ever. I’ve been stalking him for more than four weeks in this condition, if he hasn’t been back to the doctor by now, that isn’t good.

  He’s in full-on glare mode when he looks back at me and asks, “Who are you?”

  Sweet Addy offers her first words in the conversation, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m sorry, Grady, have you not met Maya Augustine?”

  Grady’s eyes widen, and this time I know he’s talking about me pushing the specials when he answers without looking away from me, “Oh, I’ve met her.”

  As if no one else has spoken, Crew keeps filling me in. “It’s been five weeks.”

  Unbelievable. He dislocated his shoulder five weeks ago and hasn’t been back to the doctor? Grady starts to direct his frown to Crew, but looks back to me instantly when I can’t hold back any longer. My next words come from nothing but pure passion for a job I love, but also concern for my patients, even though he’s definitely not my patient.

  “It’s been five weeks and you haven’t been back to the doctor? You’re going to lose motion if you don’t do something right away. Even with the break, light therapy should have started a week after the injury. Those ligaments are going to tighten around the glenohumeral joint between the humeral head and scapula, making it more painful later on, and that’s if you don’t permanently lose motion. The damage is already setting in, and if you don’t get started right away, you’ll never have full range without major reconstructive surgery.”