Gypsy Heat: A Gypsy Beach Novel

by Jillian Neal

  Gypsy Heat

  By Jillian Neal

  Gypsy Heat

  Written by Jillian Neal

  Cover Design by Hang Lee

  Edited by Chasity Jenkins-Patrick

  Copyright © 2015 Jillian Neal

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincident

  Published by Realm Press

  36 South Court Square

  Suite 300

  Newnan GA 30263

  http://realmpress.net/

  ISBN 978-1-940174-23-5

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2015940793

  First Edition

  First Printing – August 2015

  Other works by Jillian Neal

  The Gifted Realm Series

  Within The Realm

  Lessons Learned

  Every Action

  Rock Bottom

  An Angel All His Own

  All But Lost

  The Quelling Tide

  Gypsy Beach Series

  Gypsy Beach

  Gypsy Love

  Gypsy Hope (Sept 2015)

  To every woman that has suffered

  under an oppressive force,

  I dedicate this work to you.

  Please know you are not alone.

  She’s mad but she’s magic.

  There’s no lie in her fire.

  ~ Charles Bukowski

  Table Of Contents

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  One

  Nadya Montgomery worked her hand rhythmically as she spun the dozen silver rings round and round on her fingers and stared at the airport turnstile. As soon as she had her luggage, and more importantly her toolkits, she could go on with the second stupidest thing she’d ever done. Marrying Peter Quentin would always be the first.

  Her right hand instinctively traced the purple marking under her eye. Utter hatred filled her all over again. She pulled an antique jeweled compact her Aunt Molly had bestowed on her years before from her heavily fringed leather purse. Checking the makeup she couldn’t stand to wear, she tried to determine what she looked like to the strangers standing nearby. She’d tried to cover the marks, but no amount of makeup would cover what he’d done — not only to her face, but to her soul and her spirit. The makeup only made her look ridiculous on top of abused.

  Snapping the compact closed with more force than was entirely necessary, she felt her shoulders lower and her breaths come easier when her intricate jewelry-making toolboxes slid into view. She raced forward and tried to capture them before they banged into the metal contraption delivering luggage to the other passengers that had landed at the Wilmington airport.

  “That yours? Here. Let me help.” The guy, who was relatively cute, stepped in to gallantly retrieve her toolkits. Nadya wouldn’t turn him down. Lifting much of anything still tugged at the bruises Peter had left on her ribs. They were much worse than the one on her face.

  The guy gave her a sexy grin and set the toolkits at her feet. When he spied the mark on her cheek, his grin faded and he took a step backwards. “Uh, there you go.” With that, he disappeared into the crowds.

  I’m not the monster, and I won’t always look like this. I left the bastard! Nadya wanted to scream. Instead, she shook her head and focused on her luggage again. Having to pack up her passion had irked her right along with the rest of the hell she’d been living, but going back to Gypsy Beach was sure to add another layer of disaster to this entire situation. She reminded herself that it was the only place she had family that cared about her and that Sienna was there. Spending time with her childhood friend ad seemed like a good idea when she’d booked the flight, packed her bags, back-handed Peter, and left in a storm of fury.

  She’d back-handed him a moment too late, however. She’d been so careful. Terrified of what he might do, she’d hidden out at her friend Madrid’s apartment for a month waiting on those stupid divorce papers. She’d had to threaten to go public on her own website and social media accounts, where she sold her jewelry, and tell people all of Peter’s many faults to even get him to sign the damn things. Shame was always the way to go with her ex. He hated to be embarrassed above all other things. She’d known he’d come after her, but she’d planned it so methodically. She’d watched him leave their old apartment that morning, certain he was going to work. When she’d been sure he was gone, she’d rushed in to pack the rest of her things. He’d been waiting and watching. After he’d landed his fist on her face, she kicked him in the groin and had managed to get out with the rest of her toolkits. Everything else he could just keep. She didn’t care as long as she never had to see him again.

  Besides, after a round of bad luck came good fortune, right? The Gypsy legends played so readily in her mind. They were her heritage, after all. Maybe she could manage a few weeks in her beloved little beach town, get back on her feet, and somehow avoid seeing Grady Havens. Sure, Nadya, that’ll happen. The town has less than 200 people living there, and he’s always on the beach. A million memories flashed through her mind. Her heart couldn’t manage more than a sluggish beat. Thinking about Grady always made her entire body ache for his touch, but somehow thoughts of his warmth eased the pain Peter had left behind. The juxtaposing ache and healing left her mouth dry and her body begging to march onto that beach, find Grady, and just see if they could somehow rebuild everything they’d lost. Shaking her head, she tried to dislodge that ridiculous idea. She’d left him. She’d run away scared. Even if it had been her mother’s doing, she hadn’t tried to come back until now.

  She winced with another deep breath and mentally cursed Peter all over again. If all of her Gypsy curses worked, he’d be dead seven times over by the next day. A wicked grin formed on her marred face from that thought. Finally seeing her large suitcase, she gritted her teeth against the pain, lugged it off of the belt, and went on with her fate.

  “Nadya, sweetheart, sorry I’m late. I couldn’t find anywhere to park.”

  She smiled automatically; she didn’t want to worry her great Uncle Mac. He was her hero, and if he knew what Peter had done, he’d likely go to jail for his retribution.

  “Uncle Mac, how are you?”

  His face fell, and his fists clenched. His kind, hazel eyes zeroed in on the bruise on her face. “I’m all right. You’re not, and when I get done with him, he won’t be fine either.”

  “I promise I am fine,” Nadya lied. “It’s nothing. Let’s just go. He’s on the other side of the country, and I have papers from the state of California that say I will never ever see him again.”

  “Well, can I have a hug from my only grandniece?”

  It was a test, and they both knew it, but the thou
ght of her uncle embracing her bruised ribs made her want to cry. “Uh, maybe later.” The thought that he couldn’t because of her ex actually hurt more.

  Shaking his head, Uncle Mac used his towering height and ample muscle, despite his age, to carry all of her bags and her toolkits. Fury still lit the Gypsy fire in his eyes. “Your Aunt Molly still wants you to stay with us.”

  “I know, but I need a little space to figure everything out, and I’m really excited to see Sienna and to meet Ryan and his little girl. Every time I talk to Sienna she goes on and on about him. I’ll be at the coffee shop all the time. You know that.”

  “I know, Nady, but we want to take care of you.”

  Nadya grinned at her childhood nickname. She glanced around the Wilmington airport just before they exited into the thick heat of July. How could absolutely everything and absolutely nothing have changed since she ran away all those years ago?

  “I’ll be fine. I can’t wait to see the town and get settled in.” That seemed like an appropriate thing to feel, but truthfully, she wasn’t too trusting of her emotions as of late. Some kind of hollowed numbness seemed all she was capable of accessing. The blazing summer day couldn’t quite warm the chill that had set unrelenting in her bones.

  Two

  “Hey, thanks, McNamara. This looks incredible. Hell of a lot better than I could have done.” Grady Havens was deeply impressed. He’d been wary about hiring Ryan McNamara, but the new Havens’ Charter boathouses, office area, and expanded dock — complete with custom slips — were perfect. That blasted storm had taken off the roof of the old boathouse, and since dealing with insurance wasn’t his thing, it had taken him months to figure out how to get them to pay what they owed. Thankfully, the boats had been inland enough to stay out of harm’s way. Ryan had even stepped in and worked with the adjustors, leaving Grady to run his boats and actually make money. Fishing was the only thing Grady would ever be any good at, so he appreciated Ryan’s help immensely.

  “No problem. Hey, are you going to that meeting in town?” Ryan was clearly concerned about the news as of late. He checked his watch and then folded the check Grady had written and shoved it in his wallet.

  A grunt of disdain accompanied Grady’s eye roll. People like Ryan McNamara could go to things like town meetings. He didn’t have Gypsy blood. Grady would bet his catch from the morning trip that Sienna, Ryan’s fiancée, wouldn’t be joining him. And truthfully, he wasn’t too concerned. A few break-ins and an old shed fire sounded like nothing more than teenagers short on work and long on time.

  “Nah, the only reason all the sheriff’s deputies and anybody with a government license plate ever want to see me is to harass me about fishing regulations. I try to avoid ‘um all if I can. But you have a family, little girl and everything. I’ll be fine. If you hear anything worth knowin’ then spread the word, I guess.” He tried not to sound begrudging about Ryan’s family. Certainly wasn’t his fault that the cards had fallen the way they had; besides, Grady preferred to be alone. Looking after his brothers, Nate and Beau, and taking care of his old man was more than enough family dynamics as far as he was concerned. He ran the charter boats with both of his brothers. The sea made sense to him. Nothing else ever did. Grady knew when the tides were going to turn, when their customers were going to be pricks, and where to find the fish without any kind of fancy radar. He always knew. He could read the waters like a book. The sea was in his blood. His life was good. He couldn’t complain … much.

  “Well, if you need anything else, just call up at the Inn. I’m gonna get out of here and head to the meeting. After that we have a few guests checking in today, so I need to get back.” Ryan shifted uncomfortably.

  Grady’s eyes narrowed a half notch. That was entirely too much information. McNamara was honest as the day was long. He’d proven that time and time again on the remodel of the boathouse and docks. The last time Grady checked he’d employed Ryan for a brief period of time to redo Havens. He sure as hell wasn’t his keeper. He didn’t need to know what Ryan’s plans were for the rest of the day, but McNamara definitely knew something he wasn’t saying.

  “See you later.” Grady offered him an out. Whatever was on Ryan’s mind was his own business. He told himself he didn’t care, but that slight sense of unease that had set up shop in his gut the night before just wouldn’t quit. His stomach churned, and his broad shoulders remained locked as if prepped for an assault.

  With a friendly wave, Ryan climbed in his Suburban and headed back across the single road that ran behind Gypsy Beach. Tired of thinking about the sheer amount of money he’d just spent, the stifling air that felt like he was trying to breathe boiling water, whatever the hell had his mind spinning, and life itself, Grady climbed in his personal sportfish speedboat with the deep-v bottom. He felt like getting lost for a little while, and the crashing waves of the Atlantic always sang for him. The tides had settled with the heat. Perfect day for boating, but too damn hot to fish this late in the afternoon. He had nothing better to do anyway. The rumble of the motor as he backed out of the slip always fed his blood and soothed his soul.

  An automatic half grin formed on his features. Old boat still had it. With the understanding that he’d be paid in cash and that he’d keep his mouth shut about under-aged employment, Grady had worked as a deckhand for two straight summers when he was thirteen and fourteen. His height and ample musculature allowed him to work without concern that someone might question his age. The Havens brothers were all tall and ripped. Came with the manual labor involved in making your life on boats toting hundreds of pounds of ice, fish, and equipment on a regular basis.

  He’d purchased the speedboat frame and engine and had built the rest of the boat by hand. As he watched the rippling water part rhythmically before him, he continued on with the memory, as if to punish himself.

  Nadya and Nate had helped him build the boat. He got his boating license when he was fourteen, and Wind Dancer would fly. He never worried about having anyone older in the boat with him to make his license legal. He could generally outrun the patrol boats. His dad had taught him to drive when he was eight. He out-skilled and out-smarted the marine patrol on a regular basis.

  Nadya had named the boat Wind Dancer. She loved the way the boat flew them away from a life that would never fit them. With a sharp inhalation, Grady’s jaw tensed as he recalled her beautiful body lying on the benches against the windshield. Their heated explorations of each other’s bodies, while making-out in hidden away in inlets up and down the shoreline, shot pure, unadulterated need straight to his cock.

  With a slight headshake, he forced the memories away. He was an idiot. She’d always deserved better. How could he have been that stupid? He would never forgive himself for the hell he’d put her through. After he’d put his fist through a wall and scared the shit out of her, he had tried desperately to make it up to her. He’d tried feebly to take care of her, but she’d been terrified and that’s how he’d reacted. How could he have been such an asshole? He still didn’t know if her aunt and uncle knew what had driven her away. He just knew that she was gone.

  The wind whipped through his jet black hair and drove the thin metal disks hanging from the chain around his neck into his chest. Pulling on a t-shirt he’d left on the boat the day before, he studied the skies. Something stirred inside him. The winds whipped and abruptly changed direction. They tugged ominously against the bow. A moment before, he’d been flying windward letting the breeze carry him further away from the shoreline, but now Wind Dancer pulled to the port side, as if the winds were taking him forcefully back to the beach.

  His stomach twisted ominously and tension sizzled up his spine as he scanned the horizon again. The sky was clear except for a few dots of wispy white clouds.

  “Shit,” he muttered out loud. There it was. The sky was clear enough to reveal an elusive daytime moon on the horizon, a Gypsy moon. As if he needed another sign beyond that damned moon, the wind continued to argue contentiously with the bow
of his boat, attempting to drag it leeward back to shore. He grabbed the wheel and pressed onward. The winds could go fuck themselves. He didn’t know what was incoming, but something sure as hell was. He could feel it in his soul.

  Nadya tried to blink back the tears that stung her eyes as Uncle Mac slowly traversed the road that ran behind Gypsy Beach. This wasn’t at all how it was supposed to look. The fresh coats of paint, new roofs, and restored shop fronts weren’t at all how she remembered them. Her eyes couldn’t help but gaze at the new large boat bays and office area along the docks that was now Havens’ Charter Company. Aunt Molly told her the town had flourished after the storm, that people had restored everything, but at that moment, she just needed it to be the town that had raised her. Mystic Mermaids, the souvenir shop where she always purchased toe rings and dirty Romance novels as a teen when she had a little money, was twice the size it had been when she’d run away. Even Pinky’s tiny funnel cake shop had a new coat of paint and a new front porch. The Gypsy Wishing Well was now neon green, and the new wooden wish box took up half of the porch. It used to be a dilapidated, hinged, metal toolbox with a slit in the top.

  What little remained of her battered heart sank to her feet. She grimaced as Uncle Mac pulled his truck into the parking lot of Montgomery’s Surf, Turf, and Coffee Shop. Even it had been expanded and painted. Nothing looked the same. Why did everything have to change? Why had she ever left?

  Nadya told herself that she did want to see her Aunt Molly. It was the rest of the town she had no desire to greet. Just go in, say hello, and get out. Her waist-length black hair whipped across her face when she stepped onto the sandy lot. The same wind that had carried her all the way home still seemed restless, as if it hadn’t quite hit its intended mark but wasn’t giving up. At least her hair covered the bruise momentarily.