His heart missed a beat when they didn’t keep going up the hill, but made a fast right onto Delphi. Will twisted his throttle and followed faster, watching as they passed a salvage yard, a few bars and store fronts, houses just lighting up for the night. He looked up in the dying light of the day and saw a huge pillar of black smoke soaring into the sky. Every mile brought it closer and closer.
No. No. It’s not her.
Will lay on the throttle, mere car-lengths behind the police cruiser now. They passed the John Deere dealer. Miss Locusta’s music school. The historic Armstrong Manor, left over from the 18th century.
It’s not her. It’s not.
The firetruck led the cruisers and Will around the last wide bend his muscle memory knew so well. Brake lights lit up as the first responders came to a halt, joining a cadre of emergency vehicles already on the scene. Blue and red lights danced in the air, but they were nothing compared to the hellish inferno blazing against the backdrop of the mountains and the coming night. The entirety of the two-story building where Sophia both worked and lived was consumed by the raging fire.
Will roared his bike around the EMS buses and fire engines without pause. Men rushed in all directions, shouting orders over the bellow of the four-alarm blaze. He could only stare at the fire like a dumbstruck moth as he brought the bike to a sudden stop and stepped off, letting it drop carelessly to the gravel as he stumbled away.
“No… No!” The sound of Will’s scream carried, loud and long in its despair, as he fell hard to his knees in the gravel.
Will screamed at the fire for what seemed like an entire lifetime. He was still screaming when he felt alien hands pulling at his chest and arms, trying to drag him away while he clawed instead toward the fire, lost in delirium. He remembered feeling the intense, unbearable heat on his face and chest before something sharp and small stabbed into the muscle in his thigh, and the world went black around him.
~ ONE ~
Two Years Later
Eva had never been woken up by birds and the rustling of trees before. Traffic accidents, domestic arguments, lights and sirens, sure—there was even that morning when some insane raccoon was on her fire escape, clawing at the windows like he had forgotten his key to the apartment. But to roll over and feel the soft caress of early morning sunlight, and hear, well… silence… almost made her wonder what she had been thinking, living all those years in the noise.
She groaned and stretched her neck as she pulled herself to sit on the edge of the bed. Her muscles were screaming with new, strange aches from the old, lumpy mattress she had slept on. A glance around the bedroom made her realize that a lot more than the mattress was going to need to change, if she was going to stay here for long. The ugly, wood-slat walls were bad enough, but Eva found herself creeped out by the collection of porcelain figurines scattered around the room’s furnishings.
She thought she might say something to Uncle Owen, but it would be tough to have that conversation without sounding like a heartless monster. Hey, Uncle Owen, I know you’re moving your beloved wife to a care facility where she might die any day, but do you mind if I pack up all her treasures and put them in a box somewhere? Eva shook her head at herself and rubbed the sleepiness from her face and eyes.
She and Charlie had only arrived yesterday evening, so Eva had yet to unpack or really settle into her temporary home. She dug through one of her bigger suitcases to scrounge out her toiletries and went searching for the bathroom. The silent house told her Charlie must still be asleep. She wasn’t surprised; it had been a long drive.
Once she got under a hot shower, Eva heaved a sigh and realized that she was alone with her thoughts for the first time in several weeks—since Owen had called, in fact. Her relatively boring life had been suddenly interrupted by that one phone call.
Charlie and Eva hadn’t had much interaction with Owen during their childhood; he married Eva’s mother’s sister and moved her from the city out into the quiet country, where he worked manual labor in some industry Eva couldn’t recall now. But several years ago, Owen had gotten some big payout—an inheritance, maybe?—and quit the hard labor to open his own bar. Things were fine until Aunt Geri fell ill, and just recently, the doctors had told her it could be terminal.
Backed into a corner and in no position to lose his only source of capital, Owen had called his sister’s kids, desperate for help. He needed someone to run the bar while he took her to a city with a larger medical facility, where Geri could have a chance at either recovery, or a comfortable passing.
And just like that, Eva’s life had taken a sharp left turn: now she was a barmaid, waking up in beautiful, quiet places.
Lost under the comforting spray of the hot shower, Eva jumped when she heard the sharp knocking on the flimsy bathroom door.
“Yes?” she called out.
Charlie’s voice came muffled from the hallway. “Hey, coffee’s on. I’ll be in the bar when you’re done.”
“Okay, thank you,” she said. Eva wiped the water out of her face and pulled herself out of the daydream. She wrapped up her shower a few minutes later and poured herself a cup of only slightly burnt coffee in a well-loved mug decorated with kittens. She shook some of the dampness out of her short, thin hair and felt the wet tendrils lay cold on her jaw and neck.
Taking her coffee and heading out the front door of the modest home, Eva smiled at the fairytale scene that greeted her. Soft, spring-green forest surrounded the house, dappled with morning sunlight. Trees swayed in the soft breeze as birds parlayed between them, singing. The wind carried the scent of the wildflowers that grew in the small meadow a dozen or so yards from the house. It felt like she had stepped into a fantasy novel.
Charlie had said he’d be at the bar, but instead, he came from around the side of the house carrying a small hatchet. He saw her on the porch and gave her a nod. He wore what had been his standard uniform for years, consisting of jeans, a brown belt, work boots, and a plain white shirt, which he sometimes dressed up with a polo. His dark, tussled hair reminded her of pictures of their father when he was young. And like their father, Charlie loved work and almost nothing else. He kept the rest of his life simple.
“This place is incredible,” she said wistfully.
Charlie followed her gaze, gloved hands on his hips. Whatever he had been doing this morning already had him sweaty and breathing hard. He squinted, as if he was trying to find what it was she was talking about. “Yeah, I guess. Kind of a dinky little house, though.”
“Not the house, necessarily, but the land,” said Eva. “I’ve never been to a place like this.”
“You used to go to the park all the time,” said Charlie, wiping his brow and pulling off his gloves.
“That’s different,” she said. “That’s all manufactured. This is real.”
Charlie gave her that exasperated smile that only brothers could give. He softly tapped her arm with the gloves. “You read too many books. You gotta get out into the world. Then you won’t be so amazed by shitty scrub forests.”
Eva gave him a glare and took a sip of her coffee. “Oh, Christ. I’ve been out in the world. You make me sound like a shut-in.”
“You kind of have been for a while,” said Charlie. He rubbed the back of his neck, something Eva knew meant he was only half-joking.
“Well,” she said. Her gaze fell to her sandaled feet, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “There’s no reason to be a brat about it.”
Charlie tilted his head and made a soft noise, something painful. He put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean it like that.”
Around the same time Uncle Owen must have been building his bar, Eva had gone through a transition of her own—she finally left her neglectful husband of three years, a man who had charmed her romantic side, only to become something much darker once she committed to him. She became little more than his property, and although he never laid a hand on her, he had damaged her, regardless. The years she’d spent married
to him had withered Eva’s spirits in ways she hadn’t known were possible.
But Charlie helped save her, as he always had, big brother that he was. He helped her leave, and put her up in his own apartment across town, where she could regain her footing.
Eva nodded quickly. “Look, I came out here with you on purpose, for a reason, I know—to get out of my rut. I know it’s time for me to get out of your place.”
“Hey, I’m not saying that—”
Eva put a hand up. “I know you’re not, but you’re also my brother, which means you don’t have to. I can see it. I mean for this place to make a difference.”
“I’m not trying to push you out, Eva. I just worry about you. I know you’re not like me. You do better when you have people around to be with. Having you around does make me feel less like an insane workaholic, though.”
“But that’s exactly what you are,” she said with a laugh.
“Well, you help me hide it.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head. “C’mon, Owen should be here any minute. You ready to become a bartender, or what?”
Eva shrugged with a laugh and followed Charlie through the forest. “Guess that means I have to start drinking more.”
Charlie gave her playful frown and a laugh and led the way.
About five hundred feet from the house, through the “scrub forest,” as Charlie had so lovingly called it, sat Swashbuckler’s. Owen and Geri had purposely built a modest, relocatable home in the back to allow them better access to their business, which is where Eva and Charlie would now be residing while they did the same. As she waited for Charlie to unlock the back door’s hefty padlock, Eva noticed the gravel parking lot of the small dive bar was far bigger than logic would dictate. She reminded herself to ask Owen about that.
The building itself was nearly brand new, built from the ground up by Owen on an empty piece of land on the foothills outside a town called Howlett. Eva had never heard of it before they got the call from Owen, and had only first seen the twinkling of the tiny town’s lights as she and Charlie had arrived in the dark yesterday. It was, by far, the smallest place Eva had ever visited in her twenty-seven years. Three generations of her family lived and died in the concrete jungle of Silverton City, where she had always felt like a bee in a massive hive. Only through her deep love of literature and stories had she visited places like this, small towns where everyone knew everyone’s secrets and people didn’t lock their doors at night. It felt a little like stepping into another world, complete with the unusual feeling that always came with a visit to a new place—the feeling that adventure could be around any corner. Part of her heart beat faster at that idea; another part of it seemed to shrink in anxiety.
Charlie wrangled with the unfamiliar locks until they finally gave, and led Eva into the back room of the bar. The place had no extravagant kitchen, only the necessary washing equipment and storage for inventory and other things. Most of the space had been devoted to the barroom itself, which sat patient and empty, its neon signs dark. Only a few small windows around the ceiling let in the sunlight, a design choice obviously made on purpose. As she looked around at the pretty wooden bar, the still-cushy stools, the line of shining vending machines in the far corner, Eva wondered what it felt like to want to be in the dark all the time, like Swashbuckler’s barflies clearly preferred. Even after Charlie hit the lights, the place still felt dim.
One by one, Charlie walked by the neon beer signs and yanked on their pull cords. He unlocked the front door as Eva meandered behind the bar itself, running her hand on its polished surface.
“It’s not a bad-looking place,” she said.
Charlie put his hands on his hips and looked around. “No, not at all. At least it’s a new dive.”
“I’m not sure I’ve been in a dive of any kind,” said Eva.
“You’d remember, if you had,” said Charlie with a chuckle. “This place will look much different in twenty years. Hell, in ten years.”
They began to check out the situation behind the bar when they heard tires crunching in the gravel lot outside. Footsteps came for the door not soon after. “Must be Owen,” said Charlie.
Eva looked at her watch. “At nine a.m., I sure hope so. Otherwise, someone has a serious problem.”
The door to Swashbuckler’s squeaked as it swung open. Fresh daylight blasted across the black-and-maroon patterned laminate floor and sent dust scattering into the air. A man in his late fifties stood a moment in the doorway, hands on either side of the frame, as he kicked a bit of sticky mud from one of his boots. He entered and the door dropped closed behind him.
“Now, that can’t be Eva,” said the older man. He shook a finger at her with a smile. “I just won’t believe I’m that old, no sir.”
Eva smiled at him. She tried hard to mentally place him in some fond memory within the Murdock family, but she came up empty. He stood tall, dressed in a faded but clean polo shirt and brown jacket that seemed to come standard to every old man once they reached a certain age. Brown hair that needed a trim shot out in all directions from under a blue trucker hat decorated with the logo of what looked like a local brewery. He had the wrinkled face of a basset hound, eyes a bit sad, even as they shined when he smiled.
“Would that we could all be a little younger,” said Eva.
Charlie walked out from around the bar and greeted Owen with a hearty handshake. “Hi, Owen. It’s been a while.”
“It has, Charlie, it has!” said Owen as he took the handshake. “I think you were still tearing around the alleys doing your BMX stunts, the last time I saw you.”
Charlie chuckled at the memory. “And don’t think I didn’t get switches aplenty for it. There’s no solace for a hooligan in an Irish neighborhood.”
Owen laughed from deep in his belly. It made Eva laugh a little bit from behind the bar. She hadn’t expected the man to be in such a bright mood, considering the circumstances.
“You kids have no idea how much I appreciate your help,” said Owen as he made his way over and dropped into one of the bar stools. “There is no blasted way I would be able to maintain the bar long-distance and still be there for your Aunt Geri. Together, we are going to give her the best shot possible at beating this thing.”
Eva crossed her arms. “How is she?”
Owen pursed his lips and opened his hands. “She’s in pain, but getting comfortable. Whatever happens, at least I can rest knowing I did all I could to help.”
“And we are happy to contribute,” said Charlie, clapping a hand on Owen’s shoulder. “I promise, this place will be just like you left it once you return.”
“Well, if you could make it better somehow, I wouldn’t stop you,” said Owen with a laugh. “How’s the house? Any problems getting in?”
Charlie shook his head. “No, it’s quite comfortable.”
Eva almost interjected about the mattress, but she decided against it. She and Charlie could fix that without bothering Owen. “It’s a beautiful place,” she said instead.
“Did you take the master bedroom?” said Owen, looking at her. When Eva nodded, Owen let out an exasperated breath and adjusted his hat. “Don’t mind telling you I’m glad to be out of there for a minute. Geri loves those little dolls she keeps around, but they just give me the willies.”
Eva smiled broadly before she could stop herself. She flushed red a bit around the cheeks as she said, “Yeah they… they are a little creepy.”
“The things we do for love, eh?”
Owen’s response and his soft smile made Eva ache somewhere inside her chest. She cleared her throat and nodded with a smile. “Aunt Geri obviously picked the right man.”
Owen patted Eva’s hand on the bar and then stood up, stool squeaking on the floor. He led Eva and Charlie around the whole of Swashbuckler’s and introduced them to the ins and outs of the place, and the strange quirks of operation that always seem to come with any building—even the new ones. He warned them about making sure the dumpster lids were always closed a
nd latched, so the forest’s bolder scavengers didn’t make a zoo out of the place in the night. He sat down and showed them the shipment schedule and how to work with all the bar’s vendors to keep everything stocked and ready for customers.
“Oh, the customers,” said Owen with a snap of his fingers. “I suppose we should talk about them a bit.”
Eva and Charlie both looked up from the scattered logs Owen had spread out along the bar. “We’ve both worked customer service jobs before. I don’t think it will be much of an issue.”
“Well, now,” said Owen, adjusting his hat. “That’s part of it, and I’m sure you’ll be fine there. In the interest of full disclosure, I have to say that you may find yourselves dealing with some characters of the rough persuasion, from time to time.”
Retribution: A Motorcycle Club Romance Page 2