by Kara Kelley
“You were only doing what you thought was right to protect her. She needs protecting. That girl needs to be set straight sometimes. I know you know that, too.” He looked at Drew and Drew’s heart kicked up a notch. “You’re a born leader, kid. And I don’t mean like your father wanted. You’re a good man, even if you don’t see it. You’ve gotten more from me than you ever did from that no-good bastard named on your birth certificate.”
Suddenly Ray’s line started reeling fast. He gripped the fishing pole with two hands and arched back, pulling and winding the line in repeatedly. The little boat swayed and Drew held the sides.
“I know I owe you, Ray—”
“Bullshit!” He was out of breath. “You’ve been taking care of me and my place for years. This ain’t about owing, this is about love.” He huffed but when Drew attempted to take his rod, he growled. “You’re like a son to me. She’s like a daughter. I love you both and I need you to take care of her. Promise me, dammit!”
And so Drew did. And he wouldn’t break that promise—not for anything.
Addi needed him.
She always had, and even if Ray hadn’t asked him to care for her, he would have. He couldn’t resist. As self-destructive as it was, she tugged at him as if there was some unseen gravitational pull between them. She played the part of taking care of herself, but just like Ray had said, he saw beneath that façade.
He’d be there for her—keep her safe—but she was off limits for him. No matter how much he loved her, she was not his and never would be. Not when it could put her life in danger.
Addi deserved better than someone hiding from a family with connections to drug cartels, brothels, and bloody murders—a family that would hurt or kill anyone Drew cared for as punishment for him leaving. He and his past were too dark for her.
Drew looked between the Harley and the Norton. He wouldn’t take the Harley. He’d just finished fixing up a ‘69 Norton and had wanted on it since he’d found it hidden like an unpolished gem at an estate sale. He planned to auction it off for his Victims of Violent Crimes charity, but wanted to enjoy it for a few weeks first.
Well, Ray was supposed to auction it off. Drew put everything was in Ray’s name so Drew could stay anonymous. He couldn’t risk alerting the Skull Grinders of his whereabouts.
How would that work now? Ray had nothing and refused to take anything from him, but on paper, he owned it all. He was the name on the paintings. He was the name on the accounts, the charity foundations, everything except Drew’s Harley (that was under his legally changed name, Andrew Fitzer)—Ray even held the deed to Drew’s studio on the cliff. No one would ask questions or dig into his past and former name without provocation, but if Andrew Fitzer was known as the rich and famous artist who’d founded several charities, they might.
Drew hadn’t expected Ray to die so soon and he didn’t know how their arrangement would work now that he had. Drew hadn’t thought that far ahead. Ray was still young. What’s seventy-two when people lived well into their nineties now? Truth was, the few times Ray brought it up, Drew refused to talk about it. Ray was all he had.
Addi didn’t know how things worked between him and Ray—no one did. It didn’t matter though; even if he lost it all, he was okay with it. If it went to Addi, it was fine by him. She’d do right by the charities.
He sat in the parking lot of the funeral home, straddling the Norton, which rode like a dream, watching the road for her. She had given him the slip quickly and since she had a GPS, he hadn’t bothered to double back and get her. She obviously needed the space and he was enjoying the Norton too much. He was quickly regretting that he hadn’t turned back for her though. He looked at his watch and frowned. Getting off the bike, he headed to the giant wooden polished double doors.
A tall dude with a beak-like nose met him in the foyer.
“Good afternoon, I’m Colin.”
Drew nodded and looked around the dimly lit funeral home. There was incense hanging heavily in the air and it made his lungs itch.
“Is there someplace I can wait for my friend? We’re meeting here to make arrangements for Ray Moore.”
“Of course, sir.” He swept a hand to the left and bowed slightly. “Right this way.”
Drew was a big man, not afraid of much, but ever since he was a kid, having been witness to two violent deaths, places like this creeped him out. And the dark decorations and heavy curtains blocking out the light didn’t help.
The waiting area was probably once a bedroom in the old Victorian house. It had some chairs, a sofa, and some side tables with plenty of tissue boxes and fake flowers. He looked around feeling claustrophobic until he noticed a corner set up with coffee supplies and a kettle. The area was only slightly less depressing than the rest of the home, but the promise of coffee eased some of his edginess.
A steaming Styrofoam cup in his hand, he walked to the sofa and sat, tossing his jacket on the armrest. Looking at his watch again, he ground his teeth. He’d bet the coffee in his hand Addi was lost. It reminded him of when they were at camp and he was just starting to fall for her.
“What are you doing?” Drew looked at the girl, Addi, with her knees tucked up to her chest sitting on the ground. Startled, she yelped, her eyes wide and wild.
“I’m on a walk.” She lifted her chin while she spoke. She was different from the girl he’d saved from drowning the week before.
“You’re on a walk?” He furrowed his brow and set his hands on his hips. She was cute and the kiss they’d had still played through his mind every night even though he regretted it.
“Yes.” Her bee-stung lips turned out in a petulant pout.
“And why are you sitting if you’re on a walk?”
“Because if you ever get lost in the woods, you’re supposed to stay put.” She scooped up some aromatic sticky pine needles and tossed them unconsciously to the side.
“So which is it, are you on a walk or are you lost?”
She looked at him then—straight at him with her exotically tilted dark eyes, making his head spin. Her lashes were unreasonably long and the freckles scattered across her honey-colored nose and cheeks made his gut clench. She was both annoying and alluring and he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to drag her back to her uncle or to kiss her again.
First, he shouldn’t give a damn and second, she was a good girl, the kind he avoided. Hell, she even had pigtails. Sixteen-year-olds with pigtails were definitely good girls.
“I haven’t decided yet.” Her haughty tone irked him but not in an entirely bad way. His brows rose and he scratched his head.
She was the only girl at Tonalonka. She had a sadness to her that made his own chest ache—maybe because he was sad too. Ray had asked him to look out for her and at first it pissed him off so he hadn’t promised him anything.
He didn’t want to be responsible for the camp owner’s niece. He also didn’t think a guy as smart as Ray should trust him with his precious niece. Drew was bad news after all—a parolee. But he’d already rescued her once. She’d intrigued him since then. She was a loner like he was, but more captivating was the way she acted as if she was above all the activities and fun. Especially when her eyes and longing looks told another story. She was scared. Maybe even terrified. So he’d followed her quietly when she went to the woods.
“You haven’t decided?” Drew asked.
“That’s right. Are you going to keep repeating everything I say?”
“Uh, no, saucy pants. Are you planning on deciding soon?”
“Maybe. Why do you care?” She set her chin on her knees, still looking at him with those big brown eyes.
“Because I need to decide whether to rescue you or not.”
“I don’t need to be rescued. I’m no damsel in distress.” She let her legs fall straight and crossed her arms. She might’ve looked less vulnerable if her lip wasn’t stuck between her teeth.
“Too bad, I kind of like rescuing damsels.”
“Well, find another one, P
rince Charming, I’ll never be your damsel.”
“Fine, but if you’re lost and staying put, what is it you expect to happen if not to be rescued?”
“I haven’t decided that yet either.” She looked away. He wanted to slide one of her pigtails through his fingers.
“You’re very indecisive.”
She turned to him and smiled then, and it took his damn breath away. It was like being socked in the gut, but it didn’t hurt—in fact, it was thrilling.
“Yes, I am.” She reached up to him and he took her hand to help her to stand. He wanted to keep holding it, but she took it back.
“Would you walk me back?” she asked casually while dusting off the seat of her summer dress.
“No, but I’ll rescue you.” He smirked at her and she rolled her eyes, but her smile got unbelievably wider.
“You already rescued me once. I have a once-only limit on being rescued,” she said.
His eyes narrowed but he couldn’t hide his smirk. “Is this because you think I’ll be mad at you for doing something dangerous again?”
“No!” Her chin rose higher. “I’ve done nothing dangerous! Besides, you’re not my camp leader. I’m not your responsibility.”
He grunted his reply.
“I haven’t!”
“Camp leaders are responsible for all campers, not just their assigned kids.”
“Well, I’m not a camper. I’m just here visiting my uncle,” she said haughtily.
“Is that the cop-out you’re taking?”
Her eyes narrowed angrily at his words and she slammed her hands on her hips. He could barely hold back his smirk.
“I never cop out of anything.” Her words were strong and severe and her cheeks were flushed with anger.
He held up his hands. “Okay, okay. Truce?”
She visibly relaxed and let out a breath audibly as she nodded.
“Good. I’d hate to have the cutest girl at camp mad at me.” He grinned crookedly at her and she rolled her eyes.
“I’m the only girl at camp.”
“Come on, it’ll be time for dinner soon. I’ll walk you back.” He took her hand again and when it trembled in his, he held it tighter and before they’d even made it halfway back, Addi was walking pressed against him.
Drew’s memory faded as he heard Colin speaking from the foyer. Standing, he set the cup of coffee down and walked out of the room.
The woman standing with Colin was a ginger, with a sharp expression, big black-rimmed glasses, and a skirt too short for the business wear she’d obviously been going for.
“Would you mind if I had a word with you?” she said, her smile wide.
“Who are you?” His cold words made Colin look queerly at him. But Drew’s instincts were good, very good.
When you spent four years in a young offender facility, you had to develop an aptitude for sensing danger, bullshit, and bat-shit crazies. You also needed a powerful body and a fight-to-the-death attitude. That’s what kept you safe. Especially when your father was the president of the Skull Grinders.
The woman looked at Colin and then back at Drew and bit her lip. Her lips were thin and painted with some pale pink glossy shit. She tugged on her navy skirt and took a tentative step toward him.
“Would you mind, Colin?” she said, not looking back. The slim man nodded politely and walked away.
“I’m Rebecca.” She stuck out her small hand, nails painted the same pink as her lips, but Drew ignored it. “Can we talk about Ray?” The woman gestured back to the room with the coffee and Drew wondered if she was a grief therapist or something. He didn’t hide his impatience though. He sighed forcefully, walked to his spot on the couch, and fell into it. He didn’t need to talk about Ray to anyone—least of all a fucking stranger.
Once the woman sat, he spoke. “I think we should wait for his niece. I’m just here for moral support.” He let out another breath and looked back to the door.
“Oh?” Her perfectly shaped eyebrows pulled tighter. “You did live with Ray, didn’t you?”
What the fuck did that matter? “Yes, as the caretaker of the camp, but his niece is his family.”
“So, you were just an employee?”
“Well, no, not quite. We were friends.” He puckered his brow. “Who are you?”
“I thought we established that. I’m Rebecca.”
He flicked an eyebrow skyward and smoothed his beard. “Actually, we haven’t. Telling me your name doesn’t tell me who you are, does it?”
“I suppose.” Her eyes shuttered before she straightened and her look seemed to sharpen.
“You’re that reporter, Rebecca Snow, aren’t you? See, you better not be her because I’ve been telling her to give us some privacy since Ray died. And I’m no longer planning on being nice about it.”
Her eyes widened and then hardened.
Not so easily intimidated, huh? “Get the hell out of here.” He spat the words with vehemence, his fists clenching in his lap.
The redhead shrank back a little, her confidence faltering. She even had the nerve to look down the hall where Colin had disappeared like she was afraid of him.
“I promise the piece will be tasteful,” she said.
“Do I look stupid to you?” He crossed his arms and lowered his chin, giving her a disparaging smile.
“Uh, no.” He saw she was chewing the inside of her cheek.
“Then don’t play me for a fool. As soon as you called I looked up your work—you love dirt and we both know it. You’re one of those word-twisting, out-of-context, rabid-dog writers.”
“This could be my break, Mr. Fitzer. My way out of writing that trash. I think Ray had an amazing story and I want the world to hear it.”
Drew jumped to his feet and by the surprise she showed, faster than she expected he could move. “You’re just a tabloid writer, pretending you’re better than the weekly rags, and you always will be.” His voice was harsh and loud and her jaw clenched before she opened her mouth to speak. Drew pointed to the door. “Get the hell out of here. The fact that you’ve been calling me since the news broke about Ray’s death without allowing anyone time to grieve and you’ve now come to the funeral home to get what you want is proof enough you have no morals, Miss Snow. Go, before I toss you out.”
Colin came rushing back, looking only slightly more alert. “I’ve called the police.”
Rebecca’s mouth curved down in a scowl, which was the first honest expression she’d shown in his opinion, and turned on her heel to swiftly walk to the door. She looked over her shoulder shrewdly and spoke. “Perhaps you have something to hide, Mr. Fitzer. How does a man with Mr. Moore’s artistic genius fail high school art class? And how is it a man whose last painting sold for six-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars is three years behind on his property taxes? Mr. Moore’s life and work with all those charities would have made a lovely story but suddenly I’m more curious than ever about the secret side of his life.” She exited the doors with a flick of her hair.
Drew closed his eyes and fought his urge to punch the wall.
“Oh, my, that was quite a bit of trouble,” Colin said, and Drew opened his eyes to see the man wringing his knobby fingers at his front.
“You shouldn’t have let her in here,” Drew growled, anger still burning deep. “What if she got to Addi? That poor girl is grieving and the last thing she needs is some reporter, using her words out of context and writing a trash piece on the world famous artist, Ray Moore, her beloved uncle.”
“You’re right. I apologize. It’s just…” he stuttered, “w-we don’t normally interrogate guests who come into the home.”
“You patronizing me, Colin? Because I know it’s not often you have famous people in your funeral home and perhaps you should have foreseen some issues arising. You need to review your policies, yeah?”
“Yes, of course.” He bowed again and Drew bared his teeth before storming back to the room to grab his jacket. It was time he found Addi and taught her a
lesson about punctuality.
Chapter Four
Addi
The roads were all gravel and didn’t help her rolling tummy. They also didn’t have any freaking signs! Side road this and side road that! Arg! She gritted her teeth as she turned on yet another dirt backwoods road. She slowed and smacked both palms on her steering wheel.
Where the hell was the highway? She eyed the GPS screen on the dash with malice. She hadn’t lied, this car did have a GPS; she just didn’t pay for it, so the SD map card had been removed. Damn car rental places up-charging for everything! And now she was lost and cursing her stubbornness for not following Drew… Fitz or whatever he called himself nowadays, the bossy biker jerk.
She blew out, making her side bangs flip up for a second before flopping back in her face. Even calling him that felt wrong. He hadn’t been a jerk—not really. Okay, he’d definitely been one in the beginning, but that was a case of mistaken identity. She spotted a road further ahead and squinted. Even from a distance she could see several cars drive past. It had to be a main road. Finally!
Her heart pounded and her palms started to sweat, but she gunned it, not wanting to explain to Drew that she’d gotten lost when she finally arrived at the funeral home. Dust and gravel flew out from behind the car in her haste and her elation over finding her way to civilization, without the help of a badass biker, fell flat with the flashing police lights behind her.
“Damn, damn, damn!” Addi pulled back over. Could this day get any worse? At this rate, not only would she not get to the funeral home before it closed, but she’d likely starve to death before she made it back to the camp. She looked at her lap as she turned off the ignition and punched the hazards on. A tap on her window made her look up abruptly. She blinked, temporarily dazed before lowering her window.
“Uh, hi.”
“What’s your hurry?”
“Was I speeding?” she chirped. The officer’s flat, what-do-you-think smile made her shoulders slump. “I’m heading to the funeral home. I’ve been lost for the last forty minutes and was hoping to get there before it closes.”