New Crescent 1
Trouble
Gillian Watson wakes from a coma with a hazy memory and a powerful, yet unpredictable gift. In order to recover, she moves to the enchanting little New England town of New Crescent where she's welcomed by everyone. Everyone that is, except the much admired sheriff, Travis Sinclair.
Travis knows in his gut that Gillian's arrival heralds trouble for his beloved town, but there's a searing chemical reaction between them that he's powerless to resist. He can't seem to stay away from her. When a brutal serial rapist strikes, Gillian uses her uncanny ability to help Travis solve the crimes. She finds herself intimately involved with the investigation and the sexy sheriff.
Will her unique perspective on the crimes make her the rapist's next victim? And what's it all got to do with her own mysterious past? Will she ever remember those lost hours? Should she want to?
Sensuality Rating: SENSUAL
Genre: Contemporary/Romantic Suspense
Length: 70,000 words
TROUBLE
New Crescent 1
Mary Lou George
PARANORMAL ROMANTIC SUSPENSE
www.BookStrand.com
A SIREN-BOOKSTRAND TITLE
IMPRINT: Romance
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TROUBLE
New Crescent 1
Copyright © 2008 by Mary Lou George
E-book ISBN: 1-60601-095-6
First E-book Publication: July 2008
Cover design by Jinger Heaston
All cover art and logo copyright © 2008 by Siren-BookStrand, Inc.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
PUBLISHER
www.BookStrand.com
DEDICATION
For Cindy, the most heroic person I know.
TROUBLE
New Crescent 1
Mary Lou George
Copyright © 2008
Prologue
There was no warning, just blinding, searing pain and cold blackness. She was consumed by an endless darkness, bereft of rest or dreams. Could she sense their presence? Read their thoughts? Was that even possible? She couldn’t open her eyes and, defeated, sank back into the abyss. The void was relentless, pulling her in, clawing at her like an enemy alive and desperate. Give in to it? No. She’d never find her way back. She craved the light, but it remained illusive. Just out of her reach. An inner voice begged her to give up, but a stronger one rejected the temptation. “Fight it!” the voice urged. Bit by bit, she forced her eyelids to flicker open.
The overhead light in the hospital room cast a soft glow over her bed, but caused throbbing pain. She immediately closed her eyes to gather her resolve and stubbornly refused to lose consciousness again, though the blackness beckoned.
What had happened? Confusing images flooded her mind and she felt altered. It was like all of her senses were more acute—supercharged. How could that be? She’d been unconscious, a vegetable, oblivious to her surroundings, but a door had opened in her mind and she’d discovered a new consciousness, a deeper awareness. A gift?
How was it possible she could know so much about the nurses who’d attended her? She had the odd sensation she could read their thoughts, their feelings. The pretty night nurse was having trouble with her possessive husband and the heavyset one was overjoyed at the birth of her first grandchild. Were they shadows…just dreams? No. She knew that wasn’t the case. Something was different. She was changed. She was scared.
Chapter 1
Speeding down the highway in her convertible Beetle, the wind playing havoc with her long hair, Gillian Watson glanced at her companion.
“Well, Hank, this is just what the doctor ordered.”
As usual, her comment was met with silence. Unconcerned, she laughed and pressed a little harder on the gas pedal. It was a perfect summer day. Looking content, Hank edged away from the windshield. The wind hit him full in the face and his hair went flying. Gillian gave him a warning look and he inched back.
“Oh, yummy, food. I think it’s time for a pit stop,” she said.
The Molly’s Famous Barbeque sign was too tempting to resist, so Gillian took the exit indicated. The smell emanating from the place was divine. Hank vaulted over the passenger door, landing handsomely on the gravel.
“Show off,” Gillian said.
He merely grinned in reply.
Molly’s wasn’t filled to capacity. The twitchy, purse-lipped hostess hurried over as soon as they walked through the door.
“You can’t come in here!” the hostess wailed, waving her arms and gesturing to the door. “You’ll have to leave. Read the sign.”
Hank seemed to find the situation rather enjoyable and calmly took a seat. He looked at the gesticulating woman the way only Hank could, with patient dignity and absolute innocence. She gave him a wide berth and addressed Gillian, “You’ll have to leave him in the car. He can’t come in here.”
Unconcerned, Gillian reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out a neon vest, the words “Guide Dog at Work” emblazoned on the back. She held it up to the woman’s face and put the vest on Hank’s accommodating form.
“Surely, you allow guide animals in here? Do I have to make a phone call?”
Suspicious, the woman looked at Gillian, obviously trying to figure out why she would need a guide dog. She glanced over her shoulder at the diners looking at her with curiosity and blushed.
“Uh, um, in that case, this way please.” Walking around Hank, the nervous hostess showed them to a table in the back. “Your waitress will be with you in a moment.” She sniffed audibly and stalked off.
“Do you think she smelled something bad?” Gillian asked Hank. “I don’t understand what the big deal is. You kinda look like a man in a big, white, shaggy dog suit.”
Hank wasn’t amused. He sat down beside Gillian and rested his head in her lap. A renewed feeling of security and warmth washed over her as she stroked his majestic head.
Their waitress was a plump, pretty teenager who looked thrilled to be serving the interesting couple. She greeted them with a warm smile and, referring to the prim hostess, said,
“Don’t mind her. She’d wrap the whole place in cellophane and wear a HazMat suit if she could.” She giggled as if the thought gave her pleasure.
Gillian smiled. “You can reassure her Hank here is, in fact, a certified assistance animal.”
“I didn’t doubt you for a moment.” She grinned, flipped the page on her notepad and got down to business. “My name is Pansy and I get to be your server today. Can I bring the two of you something to drink?”
The food was good, hot and came fast, just the way Gillian liked it. She left Pansy a healthy tip, wiggling her fingers playfully at the hostess on the way out and they were back on the road in no time. After about fifty miles, Hank’s large lunch kicked in. He stretched his massive body across the passenger side and laid his head in Gillian’s lap. She stroked his white fur an
d the familiar feeling of well-being wafted over her. The dog must have felt it too, for he sighed deep in his sleep. The two were meant for each other.
With Hank on hand, Gillian felt she could cope with what each new day would hold for her. She’d needed to get away from her life in the city and vowed to take the time needed to recover from what she’d endured these past few months—the fear and loss of control.
Nearing the outskirts of her destination, she pulled off the road and stopped in front of the brightly painted Welcome to New Crescent sign. A warm ocean breeze caressed her hair, the salt air invigorated her. An odd feeling of homecoming washed over her, as if the town had known she was coming and opened its arms wide in welcome, like an old friend. She embraced the feeling and gave silent thanks to her friend Marcus, who had generously offered her the use of his empty house. In that moment, Gillian knew coming here was the right decision. She threw her head back, hugged herself and laughed with pure delight. The wind carried her laughter out to sea. Joy was something she hadn’t been able to feel in quite some time. It was liberating. She was ready to face her future, head on, wrestle it, if she had to. This was her destiny, come what may.
* * * *
At that same moment, in the sheriff’s office on the main street of town, Travis Sinclair was not nearly as euphoric. He gasped as though he’d been hit hard in the solar plexus. He hadn’t felt like this since sixth grade, when Tommy McIntyre, an eighth-grader twice his size tackled him on the twenty-yard line. This time there was no Tommy. No football game. In fact, there was no one. He was alone.
Heart racing, head spinning, Travis rushed out of his office and burst into the reception area. Business as usual. Caroline was answering phones at the desk, and his deputies were calmly performing their regular duties. There was no crisis, no reason for panic. His staff looked up at him in surprise. This was not their usual unflappable sheriff.
At a good six feet, five inches of muscle, Travis Sinclair moved with a grace most men his size were unable to achieve. Somehow he never looked gangly or out of place. He owned every space he occupied and, in this instant all eyes were focused on him.
Ignoring his staff’s surprised glances, Travis peered outside and assured himself that no unmentionable tragedy had befallen the residents of the sleepy seaside town. There was no plague of locusts or frogs. The sun still hung in the sky and people weren’t murdering each other in the streets. He turned on his heel and strode back to his office.
Alone again, Travis’s senses screamed. As sheriff, he couldn’t afford to be reassured by mere appearances. He knew something was wrong and if it wasn’t now, it would be soon. The feeling was potent. Birthright and experience had taught him to heed his inner voice. Stomach churning, he opened the top drawer of his desk, fished out the half-finished roll of Tums and popped one in his mouth. The chalky taste hitting the back of his throat was familiar. He’d been eating these things like candy for the past three weeks. Something was going to happen and he wasn’t going to like it. It felt like fate and he braced himself for what was to come.
Chapter 2
Walking back to her car, the sun warm on her upturned face, Gillian made a mental note to pick up sunblock. Fair skin like hers tended to burn, but with proper precautions she knew she’d eventually obtain a light golden tan. She loved the feeling of the sun on her skin. Mother Nature would restore her. She’d look and feel hale and hearty in no time.
Hank gave a low “woof,” indicating he was ready to go.
“You’re as anxious to get there as me, aren’t you, fella?” Gillian closed the car door behind him.
Fifteen minutes later she still hadn’t spied the street Marcus had scribbled on the map. She’d found the little town of New Crescent easily enough, but it seemed locating the streets that led to Marcus’s place proved beyond her capabilities. Where were the street signs? Cursing her lousy sense of direction and inability to follow the simplest instructions, she slowed the car to a snail’s pace and searched for someone who could set her on the right path. The main drag was quiet and it took a moment to find anyone to ask.
He came from out of nowhere and before she knew it appeared directly in front of her car. She jammed on the brakes, throwing Hank forward. Saying a quick prayer of thanks that she hadn’t been going faster, Gillian looked up at the cop standing in front of her and froze.
* * * *
Travis looked at the redhead in the shiny little car stopped two inches from his shins and frowned. There it was again, that feeling of impending doom. Every instinct he possessed told him he’d found the source of his recent discomfort. Hell, she’d almost run him down in the street. What more proof did he need?
“Even at lower speeds, we generally advise drivers to look where they’re going.”
The look of horror on her face didn’t flicker. He walked around to the driver’s side door and leaned heavily against it. Her eyes followed his progress, and looked up at him in silence. The huge dog in the passenger seat growled low in his throat, distracting her.
“Hush Hank.” She turned back to Travis. “I…I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t see you. I’ve been looking for Windom Street, but I can’t find any street signs in this town.”
“And that’s why you almost ran me down.”
“Yes, I mean no…” she sighed, “oh, I don’t know what I mean. Listen, I’m sorry. I’m lost and more than a little frustrated. You can check it out, I have a perfectly clean driving record. I’m an excellent driver.” Great, now she sounded like Rain Man. Gillian babbled on, her tongue ignoring her brain. “This kind of thing has never happened to me before. Are you going to ticket me, or arrest me or something?”
“I could.”
A part of him wanted to. Maybe a bit of intimidation would send her and the trouble she brought with her, packing Another part of him wanted to lean over and kiss her perfect lips, but he ignored both impulses and shook his head instead.
“I’ll let you off with a warning this time. You’ll find Windom if you turn at the third street on your right. Follow that along and it turns into the ever elusive Windom Street. This town’s been around for hundreds of years. The founders didn’t bother with city planning back then and the locals know their way around. You’ll have to make allowances.” He pushed his weight off the car door and stepped back. “I suggest you get going. You’re blocking the street.”
Travis watched as she pulled away. Nemesis? At first glance she’d stirred in him feelings he didn’t want to examine. The sinking feeling in his gut got worse. He was a man who’d always heeded his instincts. That was part of what had made him such a good cop. His family had lived in New Crescent since before the Salem Witch trials. His ancestors had sought refuge on the very earth he stood upon. They were a close knit community that cared deeply for each other. There was no other place like it. When one hurt they all hurt and Travis knew this woman brought with her a bad wind. New Crescent, his town, his home, his responsibility was about to be turned inside out, all because of a hot little number in a red convertible.
* * * *
Her odd encounter with the law unsettled Gillian enough to make driving a little difficult. With one hand on the wheel and the other on Hank’s head, she maneuvered the car slowly. Her heart pounded in her chest and her knees knocked together, trembling. Waiting until she could no longer see the man in her rearview mirror, she pulled over to the curb and stopped the car. So much for the warm welcoming feeling she got crossing the town limits. Taking a deep breath Gillian shook off the strange feelings the huge cop had engendered. Most people were nervous around the police and lately she had more reason than most. Running down a cop in the street was definitely not a good start.
Silently, she stroked Hank’s soft hair and her pulse returned to normal. The warm sense of welcome returned.
“Feel like exploring?” As if understanding what she’d said, Hank barked with enthusiasm.
The town itself was all she could have hoped for and more. It was magical. The
main street looked like something out of her favorite Frank Capra movie. Small eclectic boutiques lined the street, and potted plants hung from cast iron poles, added old world charm and vibrant color. She imagined at Christmas, the street was even more enchanting. She half-expected to see George Bailey stroll down the street, greeting friends on his way to Bailey Brothers Building and Loan. It was a pleasant fantasy.
Gillian had lived in New England her entire life, and she’d never even heard of New Crescent, but today she could feel it drawing her in, accepting her. It was an odd sensation, but not an unpleasant one. The place practically dripped with history and folklore. She couldn’t wait to explore.
It was a beautiful day. Perfect, really. Like nature was on its best behavior in honor of their arrival. Gillian was surprised at how comfortable she felt. The kind of ease she hadn’t felt in quite some time. No one seemed to care that she walked alongside an enormous white dog. Her beauty turned as many heads as it always did, yet the attention didn’t once make her feel uneasy, an emotion she’d been feeling rather often lately.
They made quite a picture strolling down the street, the delicate, chestnut haired slip of a girl walking beside the impossibly large, white dog. She looked carefree and happy. Gillian felt confident and in control, with her hand on Hank’s shoulder. For his part, Hank looked like he owned the place and walked leash-free by her side. He stopped when she stopped; he picked up the pace when she did. They were in sync, like a surreal pair of ballroom dancers.
Trouble [New Crescent 1] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Page 1