Contents
Title Page
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
Twenty Seven
Twenty Eight
Twenty Nine
Thirty
Other Books
SEASIDE SURPRISES
THE SEASIDE HUNTERS
by Stacy Claflin
http://www.stacyclaflin.com
Copyright ©2015 Stacy Claflin. All rights reserved.
Edited by Staci Troilo
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, businesses, events, or locales is purely coincidental or used fictitiously. The author has taken great liberties with locales including the creation of fictional towns.
Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited. Do not upload or distribute anywhere.
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One
Jake Hunter leaned back in his chair, grateful to have a minute to sit. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his shirt stuck to his back. He would have pulled on the bottom of it to fan himself, but his muscles ached too much to bother.
He looked at the door. No one was coming, but it was only a matter of time. The little shop had been busy all day, not giving him a break until that moment.
Jake rubbed his knee, knowing he couldn't keep up much longer. It was the height of tourist season, and his parents needed to hire some employees.
Usually, they took care of everything and he never saw them this time of year, except when he helped out in the shop. With his younger sister's recent passing, they refused to leave their house. Jake was heartbroken over losing Sophia to cancer, but he knew how much harder it had to be to lose a child—their only daughter. So, he worked the extra hours without complaint.
Perhaps he needed to take it upon himself to hire an assistant or two. If nothing else, that might pull their parents out of the house, if not their depression.
What about his time of mourning? He was the one who had taken care of Sophia the when she was sick. Sure, there had been nurses coming and going, doing what he couldn't, but he had given up his life for a couple years. Not that he was complaining. He wouldn't have traded a minute, especially now that she was gone.
His throat formed a lump, thinking about Sophia. He remembered her so full of life, dreaming big dreams. Even with what life had handed her, she had refused to let it get the best of her. At the end, she had comforted everyone else, telling them not to be bitter because she wasn't. She was glad for the life and family she had been given. After having spent so much time with her, he knew she meant every word of it.
If she had been there with him right then, Sophia would have given him a break. She would have either sent him to go get lunch or she would have brought some to him. She might have even made it her mission to find a couple employees to help Jake out.
Out of all their brothers, she was closest to Jake. It had been strange in a way, because she, as the only girl, was the clear favorite, and Jake was the least favorite of all the kids. That was why he was stuck running the shop alone in the wake of the family's tragedy.
The cancer had not only taken their sister, but nearly destroyed the entire family. Jake wasn't sure they would ever recover.
The bell above the door sounded, and Jake cleared his throat and blinked his misty eyes. A group of teenage boys came in, punching each other and laughing. They headed for the back where the unhealthiest treats were stocked.
When Jake was sure that none of them could see him, he wiped his eyes and cleared his throat again. He had to learn to stop thinking about Sophia when he was out in public, or at least working.
He looked up at the mirror on the corner of the ceiling closest to the group of kids. They were too quiet. Jake narrowed his eyes. It looked like one of them was sliding candy into his pocket.
Jake groaned. Why wouldn't his parents get cameras? With as many thieving punks that came through the doors, the cameras would more than pay for themselves. He pushed the chair back and stood, preparing himself for the confrontation, pushing aside his aches and grief.
The mirror showed another jerk stuffing something into his shorts. Anger burned in Jake's gut, and he rushed over to the kids.
"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded.
"Just looking at snacks," said a guy with slicked back hair and a shirt slung over his shoulder.
"It doesn't look that way to me." Jake indicated toward the mirror.
"Oh?" asked Slick. "And how are you going to prove anything?"
"Ever heard of security cameras?" Jake stepped closer.
The boys made eye contact and laughed.
"What's so funny?"
"You don't have any of those," said another. He pulled back some of his long, blonde hair behind his ear and narrowed his green eyes at Jake. "Otherwise you wouldn't have those ugly mirrors."
"You don't know that. The mirrors help me catch people and the cameras provide proof," Jake lied. He raised his eyebrows, staring at each one of them.
Blondie rolled his eyes. "We know 'cause some dudes came out with a bunch of candy from right under your nose and your high tech cameras."
The boys all laughed and gave each other high-fives.
"Get out," Jake said through gritted teeth. "But first hand over the candy."
"Try to get it," said a short, stocky kid. "Think you can?"
Jake's nostrils flared. "Hand it over before I call the police."
"Over a candy bar?"
"Theft is theft." Jake pulled out his cell phone and slid his finger across the screen.
"Dude, I think he's really going to call the cops," said Shorty, eyes widening.
"Who cares?" asked Blondie. "What are the cops at this lame, little beach town going to do to us? It's not like we're taking anything expensive. Come on." He headed for the door.
Jake grabbed his arm. "You're not going anywhere until you return the merchandise."
Blondie shoved Jake. "Let go of me before I have my dad sue you for harassment."
"Big words for a little thief. Hand over the candy."
Jake felt hands wrap around his shoulders and then he felt the pain of a shelf corner jamming into his back. Another set of hands shoved him, and Jake fell to the ground, hitting his head. His already-sore knee twisted.
"Run!" yelled Slick, and they all headed for the door. But not before Jake held up his phone and snapped a picture. He turned it around and looked at the image. All he got was half of the back of Blondie's head.
He shook his head. So much for that. Jake got up and ran for the door, pushing it open. He could still see the kids running down toward the beach.
"You thieves better not come back," he shouted. For all the good that
would do. Jake rubbed his back and his head. He was going to tell his parents he was done unless they made serious changes, and soon.
He went to the register and sat. Maybe he should just close shop for the day. That would show his parents he was serious.
The bell rang and a pretty brunette walked in by herself. Jake did a double take for that fact alone. During tourist season, everyone traveled in packs.
She looked about his age, early-twenties, and had long, wavy hair that nearly reached her waist. Despite the heat, she had on skinny jeans and a long-sleeved sweater.
As the door closed behind her, she pulled her dark sunglasses to the top of her head and looked around the store. She had gorgeous, almond-shaped eyes. Most of the girls coming in looked like they hoped to run into a Hollywood producer who would hire them on the spot for the next blockbuster. This girl had a natural beauty, and that made Jake curious.
He got up and walked over to her. "Can I help you?"
Looking startled, she turned to him. "I just need a few things. I don't think I'll need any help." She crinkled her cute, button nose as she gazed to the back of the store.
"Are you sure? I know where everything is."
She turned back to him, her bright green eyes studying him. "I'm not even sure what I need yet."
"No one else is here, so you may as well take advantage of my expertise. Once the next rush hits, I'll be stuck at the register."
One side of her full lips curled down. "I'll risk it, but thanks."
"Okay, but if you do need any help, you know where I am."
She nodded, not moving her feet.
Jake studied her lightly freckled face. She seemed to have a lot on her mind, very much unlike every other girl running into the shop. People came to town so they could forget their worries and the locals were all busy with their own businesses that time of year.
"Just give me a shout if you need anything." He went back around the counter, this time, leaning against it rather than sitting, so he could watch her. There was a sadness about her that made him curious. Jake wanted to know more, but she obviously didn't want to talk.
She switched her purse to the other shoulder while still standing in the same spot. Finally, she went toward the far side, near the back where they had some refrigerated goods. He continued to watch her in the mirrors along the ceiling. The girl stopped and looked at a few things, but didn't even pick anything up.
The door opened, forcing Jake to focus on ten new people in the store. He recognized a few of them who had been coming in regularly since the previous weekend. Another group came in, followed by another. The store was soon as packed as it had been all day.
He kept his eye out for the sad, pretty girl, but she didn't come to the register. He couldn't find her in the mirrors either, so she must have not found what she needed and slipped away when he was busy with customers.
People came in and out for the next half hour before the store emptied again. He looked at the clock. It was only a quarter past three. Where were his brothers when he needed them?
The brunette came around an aisle, holding a few basic items. Where had she been hiding?
He smiled. "You found what you need. Sure I can't help with anything else?"
She shook her head, the sunglasses falling over her forehead. "I'm good." She pushed the glasses back and dumped everything on the counter.
Jake rang up the microwave dinner, milk, coffee, and cold cereal. He told her the total and waited for her to hand him the card so he could find out her name. Instead, she gave him some cash.
"No card? You're not the typical tourist."
"Nope." She looked around, looking eager to get out of the shop.
Not that he could blame her. Jake couldn't wait for the shop to close. "Where are you staying?"
"Around."
"There are a lot of places to eat around here. You don't need to eat this." He held up the TV dinner before putting it into the bag.
She gave him a sad look. "I'm not a tourist."
"Do you live around here? I thought I knew all the locals." He did, actually, but he didn't want to put her on the spot.
She took the bag and stepped away from the counter. "Keep the change."
"But it's over five dollars."
"Get yourself a latte. I gotta go. Sorry." She hurried toward the door, sliding her glasses back onto her nose.
Shaking his head, Jake watched as she left the store. If she wanted to lay low, she had come to the wrong town.
Two
Tiffany Saunders, soon to be Petosa again, threw the plastic bag onto the hotel bed alongside her suitcases. The food needed to go into the fridge, but she was too tired to move. She had paid too much for it. Everything had been overpriced and then she had told that cashier to keep the change.
She kicked off her shoes and then peeled off the sticky clothes, putting on shorts and camisole. Then she put the food away and went out to the deck. At least she had a view of the water. Tiffany walked over to the railing and leaned against it, watching the waves of the Pacific Ocean bounce around.
Seagulls flew about, chasing each other and otherwise just enjoying the beautiful day. If only she could enjoy it. As relaxing as it was, she couldn't help looking below to see if she was being followed.
As far as she knew, Trent didn't have a clue where she was. Just a week earlier, she had packed up what she could as he slept. Then she had taken the packet her grandpa had given her so she could start a new life.
Not only was she going to find someplace new to live, she was going to take on a new identity. It should have been something fun. A brand new start, especially given what she was leaving behind, but the past didn't let go so easily.
The tall, handsome cashier had been so nice, but she couldn't bring herself to tell him anything about herself. Tiffany had tried to say her new name, but it wouldn't roll off her tongue. She was Tiffany, sometimes Tiff, but never anything else. Now she had to get used to an entirely different identity.
Would this new life give her the change she so desperately needed? Even if it did, was that what she really wanted? She was scared—no, terrified—to make the same mistake again.
She hadn't known Trent's true nature before they married. It was hard to remember, but he used to hold open doors for her, lavish her with gifts and praise, and even sing songs to and about her.
What had happened to that man? Had it all been a farce? A ploy to trick her into marriage?
Tiffany had been scared of Trent's temper for too long, believing his lies. If she would have been more attentive, a better cook, kept the house up… then he wouldn't have said such cruel things to her.
A couple weeks ago, she realized the way Trent acted had nothing to do with her. And more importantly, he would never change. He couldn't let go of his anger, and it grew worse with time.
One evening when he had been screaming profanities as usual, she thought he would get tired of lambasting her, grab his beer, and fall asleep in front of a game. But then he picked up a vase and threw it at her head, barely missing, hitting a shelf instead. If she hadn't moved out of the way….
She hadn't been able to go to sleep that night. Couldn't even bring herself to go into the bedroom where she heard Trent snoring. Instead, she sat on the couch, barely paying attention to the television.
The next day, he came home with a big box of candy, a dozen roses, and an expensive bottle of wine. Tiffany hadn't even been able to look him in the eye. He worked long hours the next few days, giving her the space she needed, but then when the weekend came, he returned. Along with his temper.
He screamed at her for hours after she burned some beans. She stood there, taking it silently as usual. Once he got it out of his system, he would grab a beer and fall asleep in front of a movie.
Only, he hadn't. Trent grabbed her shirt and shoved her into the wall, pinning her against it. With his face barely an inch away from hers, he screamed insults and profanities, spraying spittle in her eyes. He yank
ed her toward him, and then slammed her back into the wall, smacking her head off it.
Terror ran through her, but she managed to steady her voice before speaking. "Trent, you need to stop."
His eyes narrowed. "Stop? Are you joking? I'm only beginning." He took a fistful of her hair and bashed her head into the wall.
"Please," Tiffany begged.
"You're pathetic." He threw her against the refrigerator. "Get out of my sight."
That was when Tiffany realized that if she didn't leave soon, she might only get out in a body bag. She scrambled to her feet, grabbed her purse, and drove straight to her grandpa's house.
He contacted his friends, and together they helped her with the money and even a new identity.
His sad eyes broke her heart. "If I was a younger man, I would stand up to him for you. The best gift I can give you is to get you a fresh start."
He had some connections that helped her take on her late grandma's identity. The social security number had never been reissued to anyone else, and he had given her a new birth certificate with her grandma's name, but Tiffany's birth year.
She hadn't asked how he had managed to get that. Knowing his connections to the mafia, she was better off without the knowledge.
Tiffany blinked a few times, coming back to the present. She went to her suitcase and pulled out the packet, finding the birth certificate, and looked it over. Would she ever get used to having a new name?
Trent certainly hadn't had any nicknames for her, unless she counted the name calling. There was no way she was going to own any of those. They belonged to him.
What was Trent doing? He had to have been going crazy. Not only had she left without a word, or even a trace, but now he was left with no one to scream at or control.
Tiffany wanted to have kids, but looking back, she knew it was better that it hadn't happened. It almost had, actually, but she had had a miscarriage, more than likely from the stress. Trent had become even worse the short time she was pregnant, and Tiffany never dreamed that would have been possible.
She shook her head, trying to clear the memories, and then shoved the packet back into the suitcase. It didn't matter. Tiffany wasn't going to waste another minute on him. Trent had taken up too much of her life for too long, and he didn't deserve any more of her thoughts.
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