Pelican Pointe Boxed Set Books 1 - 3 (A Pelican Pointe Novel)

by Vickie McKeehan

  After all, he had been at this for months. He had to remember the element of surprise was on his side.

  The first time Ethan had spotted the rented SUV with the fleet license plate, it had been sitting at the light at Main and Beach Streets. Now, the GMC Yukon seemed to be patrolling up and down Ocean Street near the wharf area.

  They got tourists in town, sometimes a lot during the summer. But since today was the end of October, Halloween to be exact, and definitely the off-season Ethan doubted the car belonged to a tourist. For some reason, Ethan was drawn to the vehicle like cobalt to a magnetic force field. Following gut instinct, he ran the plates.

  With any luck it might come back as stolen. But that idea went up in smoke when dispatch confirmed it was a rental out of the San Francisco airport. Ethan went a step farther. He asked for them to fax the name on the driver’s license and a description of the renter who leased the car. Knowing the results would take some time, he watched as the Yukon pulled into the slotted street parking in front of the Diner.

  Ethan placed a call to Brent, told him what he suspected and to look for the fax from the airport rental agency. With that done, he bided his time, sitting behind the wheel of his patrol car, thrumming his fingers on the console.

  Sudden images of how he and Hayden had made love that morning jammed his brainwaves. He shook off the sexy imagery and decided he needed to focus on the job at hand. He knew Troy Dawson to be a capable agent he could trust. But that didn’t mean Hayden couldn’t be caught in a vulnerable situation under the right set of circumstances.

  As soon as the driver climbed out of the car, Ethan took out his cell phone and snapped a picture of a very tall man, six-four at the least, and watched as he made his way inside.

  Glancing up and down the street, he realized he might possibly be overreacting. The guy had more than likely veered off the Interstate, gotten lost and ended up in Pelican Pointe. It had happened before. The guy was probably no more than a businessman taking advantage of the situation to get something to eat before heading back to the highway.

  At least, Ethan hoped that was the case.

  Even though it was three hours before Hayden’s shift started, he punched her number into his cell phone, hoping she got service at the roadside stand. But she didn’t pick up and the call went straight to voice mail.

  Thirty minutes later the door to the Diner opened. Ethan was surprised to see the six-four man reappear carrying a sack in his hand. So the man had gotten his food order to-go. Another good sign he was headed out of town and back the way he’d come.

  But once the Yukon backed out of the slotted space, it headed north out of town in the direction of Promise Cove.

  Ethan emerged from his truck and made his way into the Diner. Before his butt took a seat at the counter, Margie came around from the kitchen in a hurry. “Ethan, there was a stranger with an accent in here not five minutes ago asking about Hayden, had a picture of her too, with blonde hair.”

  “What did you tell him, Margie?”

  “He said he was her brother, but I’m not stupid, Ethan. In all the time she’s been working here she’s mentioned having a sister, but not once did she ever say anything about having a brother.”

  He really wished Margie would get to the point.

  “So, when he wanted to know if she lived around here, I told him I didn’t know where she lived, but if he wanted to talk to her, she had a job out at Taggert’s Farm this time of day.”

  Ethan sucked in a breath and sprinted out the door. The guy had a five-minute head start. At that moment, he could only hope Troy Dawson kept her safe until he got there.

  Luka Radovan ate his greasy club sandwich and fries on the way out of Bumfuckville. He couldn’t get out of town fast enough. As he drove past nothing but countryside, a bunch of trees and crap, he briefly wondered if maybe that bitch at the Diner had been pulling his leg.

  It was difficult to believe Emile Reed had a job working on a farm. The woman he remembered sitting in her corner office on the twenty-fifth floor of a high-rise office building had been immaculate, perfect nails, perfect hair. She had expensive tastes in clothes. He remembered her wearing four-hundred-dollar suits and shoes to work, practically every day of the week.

  What could a woman like that possibly find the least bit interesting to do on a farm? If this is where she’d ended up after leaving Chicago, no wonder it had taken months to locate her.

  On his first pass by the roadside stand, Luka missed the turn into the entrance to Taggert Organic Farms, largely due to the fact he was doing close to fifty-five. One glance at the fruit stand though told him a female stood behind the counter. But then he couldn’t make out the features other than dark hair. In fact, he’d bet five hundred dollars there was more than one person standing behind the counter. How on earth could there possibly be that much interest in a vegetable stand at this time of day?

  Luka knew Emile Reed was a platinum blonde, or had been. To Luka, women pretty much changed their hair color as often as they changed men.

  A hand-painted, bright orange and white banner waved in the wind and stretched across an open three-sided structure that resembled a shack he’d seen once in rural Chicago. The sign read, “Pelican Pointe Pumpkin Patch.” Luka shook his head. He’d never seen so many of the orange fruits in one place.

  He’d clearly landed in Oz.

  He went another mile before he found a place on the shoulder to turn around. This time when he came to the Pumpkin Patch, he pulled the Yukon into a gravel parking lot along with four other cars and shut off the engine.

  He studied the dark-haired woman behind the counter. Even from twenty yards away, he recognized Emile Reed. The dyed black hair wasn’t much of a disguise. Who was she kidding? The dark hair didn’t even look natural.

  Luka gauged his surroundings. After all, he had a job to do.

  The woman had customers, including a bunch of kids, perusing the fruit, walking up and down the rows of pumpkins, searching for the perfect one. He counted at least half a dozen women milling about, another three or four noisy rugrats who did nothing but run around the display and one more trying to clamber up the scarecrow.

  Removing the automatic Beretta .380 from its carrying case on the floorboard, Luka screwed on the silencer. Opening the door of the SUV, he stepped out onto the gravel, heard the crunch of pebbles under the soles of his fifteen-hundred-dollar Russian calf-skin shoes.

  With his gun lowered to his side, hoping no one would notice, he made his way toward the counter. He wasn’t here for a mass execution. All he needed was one clear shot of Emile Reed and an escape route. Like any assassin worth his salt, he’d already mapped that out ahead of time. He’d head northeast keeping to the back roads until he reached the 880, switch cars in San Jose, take the 680 north and he’d be home free.

  So intent was he focused on his target Emile Reed, Luka didn’t see the old woman sneak into his line of vision until it was too late. He felt a thud against his back like someone had shoved him. He heard the old crone scream, “He’s got a gun. He’s got a big-ass gun.”

  Myrtle Pettibone threw her whole body into another blow, hitting the gunman again with her handbag right across his back.

  At that moment, Ethan Cody screeched his patrol vehicle to a stop, skidding a good ten feet on the black top. With his brother Brent as backup, Ethan pulled his .45 and threw open the driver’s side door.

  Troy Dawson heard the brakes squeal to a stop from where he’d gone to help a couple of seven-year-old boys pick up and carry the biggest pumpkin in the patch back to the counter for purchase.

  At the sound of Ethan hitting the brakes, Troy looked up and spotted a tall man with a gun making his way toward the woman he was supposed to be protecting. He dropped the gourd to the ground, ignoring the cries of the two little boys who watched as it bounced several times on the pavement before cracking open near the driveway leading to the farm.

  By the time Troy pulled his revolver, Ethan had leaned a
cross the hood of his truck, taken aim at the unsub with his .45 and yelled, “Drop the weapon. Put the weapon down now! Now! Take one more step and it’ll be your last.”

  Brent circled around from the side with another .45 pointed at the man’s back. By this time Troy had the man in his sights as well. “You heard the Deputy, drop the gun.”

  Ethan made his way from the car, gun pointed at the unsub’s chest. He never took his eyes off his target. Moving closer, getting within several feet, he said, “Myrtle you step back, now. Get away from him.” Myrtle did as she was told, and Ethan shouted again, “Drop the gun and get down on the ground. What’s it gonna be?”

  Just in case Ethan didn’t see what he was up against Myrtle pointed out, “You watch it, Ethan, that gun’s got a silencer on it. He means business. I watch TV shows, too, you know. He could’ve shot us all.”

  The Russian took stock of his situation, alive he might be able to cut a deal, shot full of holes, no chance of a deal. Three guns to one, he supposed he’d make a deal. Ever so slowly, Luka dropped the Beretta and put his hands in the air. He knew the drill. After all, this wasn’t his first time to the circus.

  Once the gun was on the ground, Myrtle tried to run up and kick it out of the way, but Ethan grabbed her arm just in time, pulling her back. “I’ve got this Myrtle. Go stand over there by the scarecrows. Round up those kids for me. Go on, now.”

  Brent was in the process of cuffing their unsub when Ethan asked Hayden, “By any chance do you recognize this guy?”

  Voice trembling, Hayden’s knees felt like jelly. “His name is Luka Radovan. I saw him come into the office lots of times. He works for Dochenko. I was never sure what exactly he did though.”

  “I think it’s safe to say, we now have a good idea of his job description.”

  Once Luka was in handcuffs and sitting in the back of Brent’s patrol car, Hayden finally turned to Ethan. “Are you okay? He could have shot you. You could’ve been killed.”

  “Me? What about you? That guy was three steps away from taking you out.”

  But realization hit him when he realized she’d been as concerned for his safety as he’d been for hers. He’d have to get used to this love thing he decided. “I did my job, Hayden. I pulled up, saw the bastard holding the gun not ten steps from you, and my heart dropped out of my chest at the thought I might lose you.”

  “I didn’t even see him walking my way until Myrtle called out. Then I saw you pull up, get out with a gun and was scared to death he’d shoot you.”

  “Well, he didn’t.”

  “My knees are still shaking.”

  “Mine, too.”

  “Oh, please. You looked cool as glass.”

  “Adrenaline. Remember the day you saved Justin from drowning? You didn’t slink down on the floor until it was all over.”

  She ran a shaky hand down the side of his face. “Somehow I don’t see you slinking down on the floor.”

  “Maybe not but where you’re concerned, my knees wanted to buckle.”

  “Maybe it’s because you love me.”

  “Maybe it’s because I want to marry you.”

  “Oh, Ethan, you pick the damnedest time to say stuff like that. You’re proposing to me right here? Yes, the answer’s yes.” She threw her arms around his neck.

  “You’ll marry me even though I’m not a famous author yet?”

  She laughed. “I’d marry you even if you were a lowly deputy sheriff. You know, you could always self-publish your books. But there’s something I want to do. Not sure how you’ll feel about it though.”

  “Please don’t tell me you want to move back to Chicago.”

  She let out a nervous giggle. “Go back to those freezing winters? I don’t think so. I want to open that used bookstore in Autumn’s house. In fact, if you self-publish I’ll guarantee to give your books top priority and display them prominently about the store. I’ll even hold your first book signing. How’s that? I know the shop may not make much money at first. But money isn’t everything. Of course, I know Pelican Pointe isn’t exactly begging for a bookstore. It’ll probably go under in sight of six months. But—”

  He grabbed her and covered her mouth. The fiery kiss went on until they came up for air. Resting his forehead on hers, he pledged, “Whatever you want, Hayden. Whatever you want.”

  Epilogue Book 2

  Seven weeks later

  Christmas Eve

  Inside Autumn Lassiter’s little golden-colored Spanish-style stucco house with the red-tiled roof, Hayden busily unpacked another carton of used books. Nick and Jordan hadn’t been exaggerating when they’d said they had a “bunch” of books.

  After Nick had cleaned out a storage locker and that black hole of a garage, the tally had totaled some twenty plus boxes of various hardcovers and paperbacks that covered every genre from romance to true crime. Ancient children’s books from Scott’s childhood were mixed in with his college textbooks, along with a surplus of how-to programming manuals.

  So far, Hayden hadn’t been able to discard any of them, which made her wonder how she intended to handle opening for business and actually parting with them via a sale.

  This past weekend she and Ethan had put the finishing touches on painting every room of the nine-hundred-square-foot house and installing bookshelves in what would soon be Hidden Moon Bay Books.

  To keep from putting any more holes in the wall though, Hayden had acquired six rolling carts that could easily be wheeled from room to room. They’d buffed the hardwood floors to a shine, brought in a few thrift-store chairs she’d already recovered, and restained an ancient desk she planned to use for a checkout counter. Even now there were still drop cloths spread around everywhere to keep the damage to the floor to a minimum while she got things squared away and prepared to open the doors for business the first week of January.

  A knock on the front door had her yelling, “Come on in, door’s open.”

  Jordan walked in carrying a couple of to-go containers full of steaming coffee. Looking around the small front room she said, “Wow! This place is really coming together.”

  “Thanks to you and Nick.”

  She handed Hayden one of the cardboard cups of the aromatic liquid. “Thought you might need a pick-me-up about this time of the morning. Now I want you to stop and look around at all the hard work you’ve done. You’ve taken cartons of old books that were otherwise gathering dust in storage now you’re making them inventory, so stop this habit you have of thanking Nick and me every time you see us. We want this town to come back from the dead. You’re part of that plan now, Hayden.”

  “I know. I’m so excited I can hardly sleep at night waiting to open up.”

  “I just love the bright blue walls.”

  “Thanks. We’re hoping the color says buy, buy, buy!”

  Jordan laughed. “I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised at how many people are hungry for a place to buy books here in town.”

  “I hope so. It’ll be such a kick when I make my first sale.”

  “I ran into Ethan at Murphy’s getting the coffee. He told me the good news. Thanks to Interpol and the information you provided about Dochenko’s villa, the French police were able to arrest him trying to board a plane to Tahiti.”

  Hayden smiled. “I know. He’s been in custody four days now. They reassigned Troy Dawson. He’s left town to spend the holidays with his family back in Alabama and then he’s off to Ohio to babysit another government witness.”

  “Did you get hold of Lilly?”

  “I did. She gave me a terrific price, should have my sign ready to hang next week right on schedule.”

  “Need anything else?”

  “Nope, I think I have everything covered. How’s Cord working out at the farm? Just say the word and I’ll fill in any time you need me. I got pretty good at recognizing powdery mildew so I can help out in that department.”

  Jordan snickered. “He’s a good worker. But...”

  “Still drinking?” />
  “Off and on. He’ll stop for a week and then fall off the wagon.”

  “Well, since I’m still doing the books I’ve got to make sure Taggert Organic Farms thrives, plants, cows, and employees alike. I love that place. Look, I have something to ask you. It’s about the wedding. I want you to be my matron of honor. I already told Sydney I’d ask you. She understands the reasons why I feel the way I do.”

  Jordan’s eyes misted over. “Me? Are you sure you don’t want your sister? I mean, by Valentine’s Day I’ll probably weigh two tons. I’ll waddle down the aisle ahead of you big as one of Taggert’s cows. Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “Oh, please. You’re barely showing. Why is it pregnant women think they’re huge by four months?”

  “By your wedding day, I’ll be six months along. You just wait. I’ll remember what you said when you’re knocked up and don’t fit into any of your clothes anymore.”

  Hayden chuckled. “Deal. And Sydney’s fine being my bridesmaid. She knows if not for you I wouldn’t have gotten this far. I wouldn’t be marrying Ethan in February. I wouldn’t be opening this place either. If not for you I’d have gotten up that next morning after Ethan found me and headed for Santa Cruz.”

  To prevent from getting teary-eyed, she purposefully glanced around at all the boxes. “Jordan, do you realize most of these books belonged to Scott at different stages of his life?”

  Jordan let out a huge sigh. “Yes. But he’d want you to have them, don’t you think? He loved this town, Hayden, almost as much as he loved The Cove. He’d love nothing more than knowing his books helped bring about getting the town a bookstore. He used to dream about this town’s rebirth. Nick and I are out to make sure it happens.”

  About that time Hayden picked up a well-worn hardcover book from the carton. “Look at this, Treasure Island. How many times do you suppose Scott read this?” She ran her hand across the collector’s edition of the beloved classic.