Harbour Falls

by Grey, S. R.

  As Jimmy made his way down to the cooler to retrieve my drink, I craned my neck to catch sight of the other customer. And then I wished I hadn’t.

  There was no other way to describe the guy in the back as anything other than a bad-looking dude. He was huge, bigger than Nate even, maybe about the same size as Max. He had on jeans and a navy muscle shirt that showed off his bulging arms. Tattoos ran up and down his arms, but he was too far away for me to make out what they were.

  I watched as he ran his hand over his closely shorn, white-blond hair and took a swig from a mug of beer. He picked up a pool cue—I guessed he was playing alone as there were balls all over the table. Suddenly he pointed the cue stick at me. “Bang,” he mouthed.

  I quickly averted my eyes, ignoring him. Crap! Had he known I’d been watching him the whole time?

  Jimmy returned and placed the bottle on the bar. He’d left the cap on, so I twisted it off with a huff. But he didn’t even seem to notice. It seemed my bartender-pal was distracted, as he kept glancing over at Mr. Cue Stick in the back room.

  I cleared my throat. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” I asked, curious as to what was going on here.

  “Nah.” Jimmy shot another furtive look to the back and then lowered his voice. “Hey, listen. I haven’t found that picture yet. And I figure that’s why you’re here. But today’s probably not a good day for you to be here—”

  Before Jimmy finished, a rude voice interrupted, “Who’s the fresh meat?”

  It was the guy from the back. He slammed his empty mug down on the bar, and though I kept my eyes on the bar, I felt his bore into me.

  I heard Jimmy say, “Let her alone, man. She’s not lookin’ for what ’ya think she is.”

  What the hell was Jimmy referring to? Drugs? No doubt.

  The man laughed. “Hell, Jimmy, everyone can use a little pick-me-up from time to time.” He paused, and I reluctantly glanced over. He tapped his nose. “Isn’t that right, sweet thing?” He cocked his head to one side, examining me like a specimen. “Or maybe you’re just looking for a little tweak?”

  His eyes were so dark, almost black. I couldn’t hold his stare, so I dropped my gaze. The tattoos on his right arm—screaming skulls with dark snakes writhing out of their eyes—seemed to be looking right at me. If the artwork hadn’t been so disturbing, I would have thought it beautiful in its intricacy. But as it was, I shuddered. There was something very wrong with this guy. I sensed he was still staring, so I glanced up. A shiver ran down my spine as those black eyes met mine.

  I looked away, and he laughed. “I got all kinds of goodies to loosen up a tight little piece like you. You let me know if you change your pretty little mind.”

  Still keeping my eyes averted, I found myself nodding out of sheer terror. The man laughed louder. “Don’t worry about the price either. I got all kinds of payment options for customers who look as good as you do.” I cringed at the thought, and he added, “Aw, don’t look so scared. You come spend a few minutes with me in the back, and I’ll get you so high you’ll think you’re in heaven.”

  More like hell, I thought.

  “Zeb,” Jimmy interjected, though his rattled voice betrayed his fear. “Leave her alone.”

  I looked up to see Zeb turning to Jimmy, fury emanated from him. “You don’t tell me what to do, you got that, man?” Jimmy nodded meekly as he refilled Zeb’s mug, his hand trembling. “You just worry about getting me what you owe me, or we’re gonna have some real problems on our hands.”

  Thankfully Zeb was more focused on Jimmy now. He stared intently at him as Jimmy slid Zeb’s now-full mug toward him. As Zeb picked up his beer, his eyes never left Jimmy. Not even as he headed back to the back room. Finally he looked away.

  A few minutes later, when Zeb disappeared into the men’s room, Jimmy leaned toward me and whispered, “Listen, Maddy. You better get outta here.”

  I had every intention of hitting the road before Zeb had another chance to harass me, but first I wanted to take care of something. It was clear Zeb was a dealer, and Jimmy owed him money. I couldn’t help but feel bad for the kid. He probably needed as much help as J.T. A part of me wanted to talk to him about getting his life together, but I knew Zeb would be back soon. Right now, the only thing I could offer was some help to get him out of financial trouble with the scary dealer.

  I stood up, readying to go. “How much do you owe him?” I asked Jimmy in a hushed voice.

  He cast his eyes down. “Five hundred, but he’d leave me alone if I could get him sumthin’.”

  I didn’t have five hundred dollars on me, but I pulled out the extra money I had brought. Sliding two one-hundred dollar bills across the bar, I said, “Here, take it. But God, Jimmy, try not to buy from him again.”

  “Hey, I’m not some charity case, ’ya know,” Jimmy protested.

  “Then think of it as an advance,” I offered. “For the picture.”

  He hesitated but ultimately snatched the money up. He sounded deflated when he said, “I’ll get ’ya whatcha need, I promise.”

  “Can I ask you one thing before I leave?”

  Jimmy nodded, and I whispered, “Was that Zeb-guy Chelsea’s dealer?”

  He looked like he wasn’t going to answer, but then he glanced at the money in his hand. “Yeah,” Jimmy said quietly. “Anyone here who needs sumthin’ they go to Zeb. Always have, probably always will.”

  Considering Chelsea’s drug habits, I wondered if she’d ever taken Zeb up on any of his special “payment options.” I was going to ask, but Jimmy glanced uneasily to the back. “You better go.”

  So I nodded and rushed out of Billy’s. When I slipped back into my car and adjusted the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of a man ducking behind one of the warehouses. Unfortunately he was too quick for me to get a clear view. But there was no more doubt in my mind that I was being tailed. But who would be following me? And why? I debated whether I should get out and confront the person. But then I thought of Zeb. I took action, all right—I got the hell out of there.

  Even though I thought of a bunch of good retorts to throw back at Jennifer the Bitch on my drive to Cove Beach, I was, nevertheless, relieved to see that Brody, not his sister, would be taking me back to the island.

  Once back on Fade Island, I hopped into the Lexus and drove back to the cottage. Pulling into the driveway, my eyes were drawn to a small square of paper taped to the front door. Fluttering in the breeze as I approached, I could see it was a handwritten note of some sort. I peeled it loose. It was a simple message from Adam; he wanted me to stop by his place as soon as I had a chance.

  Curious as to what was up, but wanting to freshen up after my time at Billy’s, I took a quick shower. Then I changed into a nicer pair of jeans; a long-sleeved, mocha-colored tee; and a pair of ballet flats. After brushing out my hair, I left for Adam’s house.

  Trina was back in Boston, so I knew we’d have the place to ourselves. Something I was definitely looking forward to. I knocked on the front door and waited.

  When Adam opened the door, my breath caught in my throat. Wow. He looked exceptionally hot, even though his expression betrayed a brooding kind of anger. Still I lowered my eyes to the ground and began a slow, appreciative ascent up his physique— starting at the expensive-looking black shoes he wore, up to the alluring way his dark gray slacks fit him in ways most men wished for, and to the black button-down shirt he was wearing, top buttons undone. Finally my eyes came to rest on his face.

  It was the first time I’d seen Adam with a shadow of stubble, which was definitely working for him. I met his eyes, and they flickered in annoyance. Something was definitely not right, because this look was far different from his usual expression of amusement when he’d catch me blatantly ogling his magnificence.

  “Maddy, are you going to just stand there, or are you
coming in?” Adam snapped, impatience coloring his every word.

  Huffing, I brushed past him into the foyer. “Geez, somebody sure is cranky,” I muttered under my breath.

  He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “We need to discuss something.” He turned and began walking down the hallway. “Follow me,” he said. “We can talk in my study.”

  Aah, the study, I thought. Must be serious.

  Trailing behind him, feeling more like I was off to the principal’s office, I sighed. “What’s going on, Adam?”

  “We’ll discuss it in here,” he said brusquely. We’d reached the door, and he pushed it open.

  Adam’s study was smaller than most of the rooms in his place, but it was by no means tiny. Tastefully decorated, the study was a cross between a traditional Old World study and an executive’s office.

  He led me to a plush, burgundy leather chair that faced the front of his ornately trimmed dark wood desk. “Sit,” he commanded.

  Maybe due to Adam’s no-nonsense demeanor, maybe due to the air of authority with which the atmosphere pulsed, I couldn’t be sure. But, in any case, I quickly obeyed, gently placing my bag on the floor next to me. Adam took a seat in an elegant, black leather chair behind his desk. What an image—the powerful Adam Ward in his element.

  Evening was rapidly approaching. The light from the large, single window in the room—overlooking the ocean through a break in the thick pines surrounding Adam’s compound—was waning.

  Adam clicked on a desk lamp, and I cleared my throat. “There’s obviously something wrong,” I began. “Are you mad about something?”

  Instead of answering Adam shot me a pointed look, and then he withdrew a key from his pant pocket. Reaching down, he inserted it into the bottom right-hand desk drawer.

  “I’m not mad at you, Madeleine,” Adam said distractedly, head down as he turned the key and entered a code into what I assumed was a keypad built right into the drawer. “However, something has come to my attention with which I’m not particularly pleased.”

  The drawer sprung open, and I waited, still having no idea what Adam could be referring to. When he looked up, his serious gaze met mine. In his hands he held a stack of photos. Of what I didn’t know, but I had a feeling I was about to find out.

  “Can you do something for me?” His voice was even and smooth, businesslike.

  “Sure, anything,” I replied.

  Adam slid the photos across the vast expanse of the desk. “I know you’re set on this little quest of yours to research my ex’s disappearance. But I’d prefer if you stayed away from this place.” Adam nodded to the pictures, so I picked them up.

  There were about a dozen four-by-six-inch color photos, all of me going into (and coming out of) Billy’s. They’d been taken earlier today. Unbelievable!

  Instantly I was furious. “You had someone follow me?” I accused, my voice raised. I tossed the photos back at Adam, scattering the glossy images across his otherwise tidy desk.

  “Maddy, calm down,” he said reproachfully.

  “No! I’m not going to calm down. I knew I was being followed today, but I never expected you were the one behind it.”

  Adam’s expression betrayed his displeasure with my outburst. “There’s no reason to get this upset. I asked Max to follow you for your own safety.”

  “Max again?” I scoffed. “And I’m supposed to believe you’re that concerned with my safety?”

  “Madeleine,” Adam said warningly. “Need I remind you of the other night with J.T. O’Brien?”

  That gave me pause, because maybe it wasn’t that crazy to believe Adam had had Max follow me for my own protection. After all, it wasn’t like Billy’s was exactly safe. An image of Zeb pretending to “shoot” me with the pool stick flashed through my mind.

  I shuddered and said, “But pictures, Adam? Really? Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

  His eyes held no apology. “I wanted to see what you were up to anyway,” he stated matter-of-factly. Ah, there’s the real reason. “And I’m going to reiterate, I do not want you going back there. End of story.”

  “God, who do you think you are?” I said, incredulous and infuriated at his demand. “Maybe your, your minions obey your every command, but I, Adam, am not one of them. I make my own decisions,” I stated with conviction. “You got that?”

  Maybe I should have held back. Adam’s eyes flashed in anger, boring into me. “Yeah, I got that, Madeleine. Far be it from me to try and save you from your own damn self.”

  Fleetingly his mask wavered, and I saw concern cross his features. God, maybe I was overreacting. Was it guilt for keeping my visits to Billy’s secret that had me so worked up? Maybe Adam had been thinking of my safety?

  Confused and humbled, I backed down. “I’m sorry for snapping at you,” I said, my voice soft. “I know you’re only looking out for me.” I put my head in my hands and mumbled, “I guess it’s just been a long day.” It was a weak excuse, but it was all I had.

  “Come here, Maddy.” Adam’s voice had eased, his anger dissipated.

  I glanced up, and he beckoned for me to come around to his side of the desk. I got up and went to him, and once I reached him, he spun his chair to face me and leaned his head back. “Kiss me, Madeleine,” he purred.

  His charm was irresistible. And the tension from our fight lingered—we both needed a release. So I bent down and curved my lips to his. Such a perfect fit. Our mouths moved together—tongues touching, dancing, darting—until Adam made a growling noise and pulled away.

  Before I knew what was happening, Adam had shifted my body so that my backside was pressed against the edge of his desk. He stood, hovering over me as he kicked his chair back. “Want to make a friendly wager?”

  Standing on the tips of my toes, I brushed my lips across his. “Yeah, sure,” I breathed. Hell, anything sounded good at this point. “What are we betting on?”

  With no warning and to my delight, Adam slid his hands up under my shirt, his strong hands encircling my ribcage, his thumbs tracing over the lacy edge of my bra. My breathing hitched, and I leaned my head against his chest as his long fingers trailed up and under the straps, poised ever so teasingly on bare skin. I arched my back, wishing he would slide his hands down to my breasts that ached to feel his touch.

  But as if knowing what I craved, he did the opposite—slid his hands back out from under my shirt. “First, if I win, you have to promise you will never go back to that bar under any circumstances.” The businessman was back, making a deal. He eased me back onto the surface of the desk and stood towering above me.

  I looked up at him in his position of power. “And if I win?” I asked breathlessly, slick, glossy photos sliding beneath my jean-clad bottom.

  Adam parted my legs and eased between them. Oh. My. God.

  Chuckling, he said, “Then you’re free to do whatever you want. I’ll promise not to interfere.” He leaned down, cupping my face. “But Maddy, I will win.”

  And then he kissed me like he’d never done before. His mouth was hungry, demanding, angry. His hands roamed, touching, taking—under the shirt, over the shirt, over the jeans, under the waistband. The top button popped. “Oh God,” I gasped, arching into him, aching to feel how much he wanted me.

  But Adam shifted, and I felt his hot, urgent breaths at my ear. “Want to know how I’m going to win?” he asked, his lips skimming my neck.

  I nodded furiously, plunging my fingers into the silkiness of his hair.

  He chuckled, pulling back slightly. He turned his wrist, and we both glanced at his very expensive watch, noting the time. OK, whatever. At that exact moment, I couldn’t have cared less.

  Dizzy, I leaned my head back on the desk, and Adam slid down my body, lifting the hem of my tee and placing a warm, wet kiss on my exposed hip.
He knelt down between my legs, yanking me to the edge of the desk. His mouth returned to my hip, his tongue lazily trailing a wet path across my abdomen. And then his hand cupped my core. “Oh God,” I gasped.

  “I win, Madeleine, if in sixty seconds or less, I can get you to beg me to take off these jeans,” Adam purred, and then he began to kiss lower and lower.

  The bet was on…

  Chapter 15

  Not surprisingly Adam won the bet by a rather significant margin. Yeah, don’t bet against Adam Ward. But right as I was begging him to take my jeans off now so he could do all the amazing things he was doing with his mouth without the damn denim in the way, someone knocked on the door of his study. Adam yelled, “Go the fuck away.”

  But the knocking continued and was soon accompanied by the apologetic-sounding, yet urgent, voice of Max.

  I yelped and hurried to make sure everything was zipped and buttoned, while Adam straightened his own disheveled attire. On his way to the door, he let a litany of creative curses fly. Once decent I plopped down in Adam’s chair and pretended to be examining those damn pictures, most of which were now scattered all over the desk. Adam shot me an apologetic look as he opened the door just enough for him to speak to Max. Good god, how embarrassing. Not to mention frustrating.

  After a few moments of mumbled conversation—I had no clue what they were discussing, nor did I care—Adam closed the door and turned to me. “Maddy, I have to take care of something with Max. Will you be OK in here for about fifteen minutes?” I hesitated, and Adam added, “Unless you want to go home, of course.”

  I didn’t want to leave for two reasons. First, I didn’t relish walking past Max. Not only had he been spying on me earlier in the day—though at Adam’s request—but I also felt sure he knew he’d interrupted something just now. Yeah, way too embarrassing. But the more pressing reason I had for staying was a fervent hope we’d pick up where we’d left off once Adam returned. Things had just been getting interesting. Suppressing a smile I was certain Adam deciphered, I said, “No, I don’t mind waiting.”