by Kat Cantrell
And since she’d tipped off the lady they’d come to rescue, he owed her a word of thanks. Absently Caleb tapped the Formica tabletop full of scratches and stains that had their own stories, all of which would surely be easier to tell than his own.
“You can’t read my mind?” he teased, only he wasn’t exactly teasing—he was half hoping she could.
Then he didn’t have to explain the swirl of uncertainty that had been riding shotgun in his chest for so many months. Or how he’d failed his team, led Rowe straight into danger, and then somehow packed up five former SEALs in a Yukon headed to Texas.
It sounded crazy. All of it. Especially the part where he could earn his way into redemption by neutralizing the still-nebulous threat to this town. Which he knew nothing about. What had he been thinking?
“My extrasensory perception doesn’t work like that,” Serenity explained with an indulgent smile. “The universe announces its news to me on its own timetable. I only wish I could get it to whisper things on demand. It would save me a lot of trouble.”
A bit deflated, Caleb nodded. After that, there was no way to lead up to it, so he spilled his plan in one fell swoop.
“We’re here to help you, Serenity,” he told her as his voice cracked unexpectedly. “For as long as you’ll let us. We packed up and left California.”
She blinked. “Help me? I’m all right. What are you talking about?”
“Your letters,” he reminded her. Of course, that didn’t really narrow it down, and the guys started shifting around restlessly, which in turn made him self-conscious. “You mentioned that Superstition Springs was in trouble. We want to fix it for you. That’s why we’re here.”
“Oh, honey. That’s really sweet but…” She pinched the bridge of her nose, which did not ease the feeling that a live eel had gotten loose in his gut. “This is not your problem to fix. You boys stay a few days, see the sights, and head on home.”
“We don’t have a home,” Tristan corrected flatly, and the others chimed their agreement. “You know we’re not welcome back in Coronado.”
She should. In one form or another. They’d all written her with their version of the events that had unfolded in al-Sadidiq. When you destroyed the wrong village in another country, they didn’t tend to look too kindly on the foreign forces responsible. The Navy had a PR issue on their hands, and Caleb’s strike team became the sacrificial lambs slaughtered in the name of Syria’s goodwill toward the US.
They needed to atone for that mistake, bad intel aside.
That was the real reason they were all here.
“Sweetie, you’re welcome here. Of course you are,” she said and stretched to pat Tristan’s hand, her maternal smile tinged with a note of caution that warned them she wasn’t about to recant her previous statement. “But I shouldn’t have burdened you with my struggles over what’s happening to this town. Least ways not so that you thought enough of it to drive all this way. Y’all put all that nonsense out of your heads.”
There was far more to this story she wasn’t saying, important information that she’d held back for some reason.
Caleb glanced at Hudson for confirmation, and the other man gave a slight nod, his experience with questioning baddies so ingrained he automatically assessed anyone’s body language for tells. Even when the person in question was a sweet lady they’d never met.
“I don’t think you understand,” Isaiah said gently and took Serenity’s hand without hesitation, curling it into his. “Your struggles are not a burden. We want to help you. Tell us what’s happening here so we can stop it.”
Genuine tears formed in her eyes as she smiled, somehow encompassing them all in the expression as if she’d hugged them at once. “I don’t know what to say. I wish you could help. But this mess with Havana… it’s a family matter. You can’t get in the middle of it.”
Havana was Serenity’s niece, who had come to live with her aunt in Superstition Springs along with her two sisters when their parents had died back when they were all still kids. Caleb knew that from her letters—in fact, it had been one of the major factors that solidified their bond since Caleb had lost his own parents—but how the niece factored into this was still a mystery. “I thought Havana left to go to college. Did she come back?”
“She came back all right,” Ruby announced sourly, apparently with no qualms about butting into the discussion. “With her developer fiancé in tow, determined to throw her weight around with talk of razing the main downtown area to the ground in order to build a shopping center.”
The diner’s owner practically spat the word, her opinion on that idea clear. Of course, if Havana had a plan to demolish the old buildings in this area, Ruby’s would be included in that. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to guess whether she’d be on board.
“That’s ridiculous,” Isaiah insisted immediately. “You can’t destroy all this history, and neither can she come in here and start knocking down buildings. There are laws and zoning restrictions—”
Serenity shook her head. “The land for the town was donated by a wealthy patron in the nineteen sixties. This used to be an artist’s colony way back in the day, and it’s been privately owned since then.”
“Well, that’s good.” Relieved, Caleb sipped his coffee, his mind already ten steps ahead. “That means she can’t do anything without permission of the owner. Who is that?”
“All of us.” Ruby spread her hands. “We own the town jointly. We made it legal when we incorporated way back in the day. And she’s not talking about getting permission. She’s offering millions of dollars to the residents to sell, and some of them act like they’re considering it. Others won’t. Neighbors who have been friends for decades are suddenly not speaking to each other, fighting over it. It’s a terrible thing when a girl raised here can’t see the harm she’s causing with her shiny urban-planning degree.”
“Hush now.” Serenity firmed her mouth and shot Ruby a look. “You’re airing our dirty laundry to the guests, and they don’t need to get caught up in what’s nothing more than a family squabble.”
Well, that was one way to put it. Caleb had a few more things he could say about Havana and her plan to ruin a town her aunt loved. How she was already causing division and strife. And that pretty much put the stake in the ground.
Caleb wasn’t going anywhere. “This is not a family matter, Serenity, or rather it’s not only that. There’s right and there’s wrong, and turning Superstition Springs into a shopping mall makes literally no sense. Who’s going to drive all this way to shop for crying out loud?”
The scenery in Superstition Springs was… sparse for lack of a better word, and there wasn’t much but scrubby trees and hilly terrain to stare at for an hour until you got here. Serenity’s niece must have some kind of fantastic marketing plan if she thought she’d get folks to drive all this way.
Serenity and Ruby glanced at each other, and Serenity shook her head, eyes shut. “It’s for the people who will come to the resort Havana’s fiancé is building. That part is a done deal. He bought land outside the city limits from the county. I have to admit, I was all for the resort, at first. The town needs some traffic. But that was before I found out there was more to it.”
“Some of the townspeople are blaming Serenity for being in favor of it,” Ruby filled in bluntly. “And some simply because Havana is her blood. They aren’t too fond of her right now.”
“They’re saying I’m influencing people one way or the other. I can’t tell them how to vote,” Serenity continued, her voice cracking. “I wouldn’t. They have to make this decision on their own. Either their home is for sale or it’s not, and a town that’s little better than a speck on the map is definitely not everyone’s cup of tea. We need to grow. The town is too small to continue on without the resort. But I’m not saying knock down the heart and soul of this town!”
The emotional distress in her voice affected everyone. Caleb could see it in the line between Rowe’s brows and the tight se
t of Hudson’s mouth. And yeah, his own heart hurt for Serenity as she laid out the bare bones of the dilemma.
And yet she still wasn’t telling them everything. Her niece had put her between a rock and a hard place, forcing her to choose between family and neighbors, progress and preservation of history. Serenity needed someone in her corner who didn’t have an agenda.
“Don’t worry,” Caleb said firmly. “I’ll tell them how to vote.”
Serenity glanced at him sharply. “You’ll tell them? What are you about, Caleb Hardy?”
He shrugged. This was all so obvious. Finally his purpose had gained crystal clarity.
Serenity’s letters had led him to this path, and he blessed her for it. All five of them had left Syria a little bit broken and a whole lot determined to make restitution. They’d destroyed a town half a world away. Here was an opportunity to build one up. It was nearly poetic.
At the same time, he could create a place for his team, a home. He wasn’t the only one searching for something more, and he wasn’t the only one without a family outside the team. Permanence would allow them all to replant their roots. They deserved to have something good happen for once.
“You need someone on your side who can see the big picture and take the emotion out of it,” he told her as the beauty of the opportunities available unfolded in his head. “We can bring in new business, revitalize this downtown area while keeping what’s great about it. The shopping center is not the only option. Havana’s got you upset and not seeing clearly. She doesn’t scare me. I’ll send her scurrying back to where she came from fast enough.”
The door jangled as someone pushed it open. On cue, all seven of them turned to see who had entered. A flash of red hair cut through Caleb’s gut. It was the woman from Voodoo Grocery, the other half of his pig-wrangling duo. A long liquid sensation unfolded inside him on the heels of the recognition. He hadn’t expected to see her again, had put her out of his mind because even if she hadn’t been passing through, she was unavailable. So was he, if you wanted to get down to brass tacks. This was the worst time to be thinking about a woman like that.
The jolt to his senses settled as he acclimated to the potent presence of the redhead, but the heaviness between them lingered, growing teeth the longer she stood there taking in the scene without saying a word.
“Hey, honey,” Serenity called, her voice growing more uneven. “Come meet my friends.”
“That’s Havana,” Ruby stage whispered unnecessarily as all the pieces clicked into place with a dull thud.
The redhead was Havana.
The same woman he’d volunteered to go toe-to-toe with on Serenity’s behalf.
Four
Sure enough, there were five strangers crowded into the corner booth at Ruby’s, as Havana’s sister had reported. Only one of them wasn’t a stranger. Not exactly, but only because Havana couldn’t get the feel of his arms around her out of her head.
It shouldn’t be so hard. They’d chased a pig who’d claimed squatter’s rights to a bag of chips, she’d helped him corner the thief, and then Damian had broken up the charged moment between Havana and the shockingly well-built stranger like he should have. That was his job as her fake fiancé—keep all men away from her.
During a random phone conversation, Serenity had laid one of her kooky romantic predictions on Havana, and that was an additional complexity she did not need, not after her ex-fiancé had dumped her almost literally at the altar. Her heart was still bruised and her confidence in the gutter after that fiasco.
Poof. Damian Scott to the rescue. The prediction wouldn’t be a factor if she already had a fiancé and it protected Serenity’s feelings at the same time since Havana wouldn’t have to explain yet again that she didn’t believe in all that psychic mumbo-jumbo. Damian was such a sweet man for doing her this huge favor, and it wasn’t like she’d forced him to go out of his way since they were working this Superstition Springs resort deal together.
Except he’d fallen down on the job, disappearing in pursuit of dental floss long enough for Havana to get wrapped up in a good-looking guy’s arms. She’d only volunteered to help get the Doritos back because she’d thought the other half of the pig-chasing duo was lost or maybe on his way to La Grange from Austin. Never in a million years had she expected to see him again. Especially not sitting in a booth with four other guys all cut from the same cloth and chatting with her aunt like they were lifelong friends.
“Am I interrupting?” Havana asked, strictly to get a feel for the climate in the diner.
Havana had sought out Serenity in hopes of starting over the discussion about selling to Damian’s investors, not realizing that the strangers half the folks had been buzzing about would be at the same table as the person she needed to have a private conversation with. Or that one of them would be him.
“No, honey,” Serenity insisted and held out a hand to motion her over. “Of course you’re not interrupting. You’re always welcome.”
But her tone said otherwise, which gave Havana pause. Who were these men? Cautiously she approached the table, evaluating each one. They shared a hardened look about them as if they’d seen some things that weren’t all that pleasant. Also, they were a unit. That much was clear from their identically closed expressions as if she was the outsider here.
Wasn’t she though? Even back in the day she’d never fit in here, no matter how hard she’d tried. So that’s why she wasn’t trying this time. She’d come to town armed with money and pots of it. Residents needed someone to look out for them who could offer something other than sentiment and emotion, neither of which paid the bills. Folks needed solid solutions and Havana had one: sell.
Growing up orphaned and poor had given Havana limited choices, so she knew the pain of wanting to go somewhere else—anywhere else—and having no means to do so. This was everyone’s opportunity to get ahead. It was baffling why Serenity was fighting her when all Havana was trying to do was help.
But fighting her she was. And Havana needed to sway Serenity onto her side so she’d stop poisoning the rest of the residents against Damian’s plans. The shopping center wasn’t just a means to help people—it was the only thing keeping her going. If her ex-fiancé didn’t want her as a wife, she’d make sure someone wanted her in a professional capacity. That was all she had to work with. All she could manage right now.
“These are the military boys I wrote to while they were overseas,” Serenity announced as if Havana had been fully aware that her aunt had taken to sending letters to deployed soldiers. “They’ve come to visit.”
“We’ve come to stay,” the blond with the sleek topknot corrected. He half stood as he held out his hand to her, his gallant gesture hampered by the round table in his way. “Tristan Marchande. Pleasure.”
This one was slick. Polished. Knew his way around a tailor and a hairdresser but still looked like he could break a lesser man in half by intimidation alone. He was tall, even without benefit of being able to pull himself fully upright, and so pretty it almost hurt to look at him.
“I’m Havana Nixon, Serenity’s niece,” she said though odds were good this was not new information to any of them, judging by the half-full cups of coffee scattered around the table. “Thank you for your service to God and country. Glad to have you. We need new residents here.”
She meant it too. New people meant new perspectives, never a bad thing when Serenity had dug her heels in about this falling-apart town. Surely these guys who had traveled to the other side of the world and back would understand what she was trying to do here. Maybe they’d become allies in this fight.
Though to be honest, she didn’t really understand the opposition. Who didn’t want a pile of money? Damian’s resort deal wasn’t the bulldoze job Serenity had badmouthed it as. Havana wanted to rejuvenate Superstition Springs with an influx of cash. Without that, more people would leave and the town would continue a slow decline until there was literally nothing left. But if people sold their land, they could
buy property near the resort and build a house. Start over in a new town that would spring up almost immediately, where there were jobs and culture. Or leave if they wanted to. Havana was giving them a range of choices that wouldn’t be available to them otherwise.
The gaze of the other half of Team Doritos hadn’t strayed from her face once, and being the sole focus of a man she’d had such a bone-deep response to was starting to make her a little breathless. Better to let that cat out of the bag pronto before it turned into something much bigger than it was.
With a bright smile, she offered her hand to him. “We’ve already met. All except for the exchange of names, that is.”
“You’ve already met?” Serenity’s gaze cut between them. “What on earth—”
“Long story,” he said smoothly, his voice as ragged and fascinating as it had been back at Mavis J’s. “I’m Caleb Hardy.”
When he clasped her hand, the buzz that she’d convinced herself had been imaginary arced between them, nearly frying all her circuits as well as it had the first time.
“Caleb,” she croaked and snatched her hand to her side in hopes of jump-starting her brain back to some functional level, which did not work apparently.
By the time she could speak again, the other three men had introduced themselves, and the best she had to show for it was the impression that the one with a full beard had the same last name as Caleb, so they were brothers or cousins, or it was a raging coincidence that she knew nothing about because a man had touched her.
Ridiculous.
Time to get control of this crazy train. She cleared her throat. “Nice to meet you all. If I might steal you away, Aunt Serenity? I have something I need to discuss—”
“Actually,” Caleb drawled, forcing her attention back to his face, where a day-old shadow of whiskers had darkened his jaw to the point of distraction. “You and I need to have a conversation first.”