Claim Me Now (Heron Harbor Book 2)

by Lea Nolan

  He’d found her peacefully sleeping on the sofa, Brilla snuggled against her side. As always, Raven’s beauty had struck him. If he lived a hundred years, he wouldn’t get used to the way her delicate features, long, gorgeous lashes, high cheekbones, and bow-shaped lips came together into one perfect face.

  He’d give anything to see it beyond this weekend. He and Raven were good together—on the island, at least. They deserved a chance to see if their chemistry worked in real life, too. Raven was steadfast in her no relationships rule, but after last night’s revelations, he couldn’t help wondering if that had more to do with the accident than her commitment to her career. If she didn’t change her mind, the ferry would come, they’d go their separate ways, and they’d lose their chance.

  Resisting the urge to stroke her soft pink cheek, Jack had headed to the kitchen to make some coffee. While it had brewed, he’d written a note explaining he was going to Main Street to find out the crews’ progress clearing fallen trees. He’d decided not to mention asking Hunter about the ferry.

  Which was how he ended up being drafted to Garvey’s crew and helping to clear fallen trees from Heron Harbor’s side streets and driveways. Garvey promised they’d get to Raven’s weeping willow by the evening in exchange for Jack’s sweat equity during the day. It’d hurt like a bitch, but it was an overall fair trade.

  Garvey and the other guys on the crew, Mack, Trent, and Sam, were long term residents of the island. Garvey and Mack were cousins who were contractors handling everything from building additions to re-shingling roofs. Trent was a retired firefighter, who had injured his knee on the job, but was now a schoolteacher. Sam was a landscaper. They didn’t give Jack too much shit for not knowing what he was doing and took the time to show him the best way to cut up a tree, which required a lot more skill than Jack had thought.

  A couple of hours later, as he and Trent were feeding the remnants of a downed maple into a woodchipper, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He’d already texted Raven to tell her what he was doing, but he stepped away from the buzz of the machines to take the call.

  Kiara’s name flashed across the screen. Pressing a finger against his ear to drown out the surrounding sounds, he yelled into the phone. “What’s up?”

  “What is that noise?”

  “A woodchipper. There’s also a couple of chainsaws.”

  “Tell them to shut off the machines.”

  “I can’t. We’ve got a shit ton to do.”

  “Are you . . . chopping down trees?”

  “They’re already down. I’m chopping them up. Making mulch.”

  “You’re doing manual labor?” She erupted into laughter.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “That’s not a picture I can see in my head. Are you wearing the Brioni, Armani, or Tom Ford?” she asked sarcastically, naming his favorite suits.

  “Hilarious. Just jeans and a sweater. Did you call to bust my balls?”

  “No. We have a problem.” Kiara’s voice was suddenly as serious as a quarterly downturn.

  “I’m sure you can handle it just fine, boss lady.”

  “Actually, it might be an emergency.”

  Fuck. In Kiara speak, “might” meant it was already a full-blown catastrophe. Could he possibly get a break? He’d owned Paulson Diagnostics for barely four days and already shit was hitting the fan. Jack moved farther down Seahorse Lane away from the heavy trucks and equipment. “Okay, what the hell is going on?”

  “I was supposed to be on an off-sight today with some of our suppliers, but I came back early. I found a girl—an employee in my office, rifling through my files. The confidential corporate ones that were in the locked cabinet.”

  Holy shit. A fucking corporate spy. There was nothing worse. He hated them more than the auditors from the SEC.

  “What was she looking for?”

  “I couldn’t get to her tell me, even after I threatened to have her arrested or sued, but she’d taken a copy of the articles of incorporation and the signed tax forms that listed the representative agent for Son Co.”

  Jack rubbed his newly growing beard. “Someone knows what they’re doing. And they want to know who bought out Paulson Diagnostics before we’re ready to announce.”

  “Right.”

  “Who was it, and what department does she work in?”

  “Mariana Hernandez. You’ll love this. She’s Tiffany Paulson’s assistant. She tried to say that Tiffany asked her to get the documents, but we both know Tiffany’s too stupid even to know what those are.”

  “What did you do to Ms. Hernandez?”

  “I fired her duplicitous ass.”

  “Excellent. If you hadn’t, you would’ve been next.” They both knew he wasn’t joking.

  Jack paced the faded asphalt road. Kiara’s solution addressed the immediate problem. A bigger issue still loomed. Someone knew Mariana was in close proximity to the corporation’s nexus of power, and they’d used her to get intel. He needed to find out who that someone was, fast. “Get our private investigators to look into her. I want to know everything about her.”

  “Already called them,” Kiara said.

  “Excellent.”

  “But Jack, Mariana must have read those papers. If she’s half as smart as I think she is, she’ll remember the details.”

  There were good reasons to hide Son Co’s parent company’s identity, and they weren’t all tax-related. WFG had been acquiring diabetes care companies for a while now, cornering a larger market share. Shielding Paulson Diagnostic’s new owner from competitors by using a shell company would keep them from realizing WFG’s dominance until it was too late. Business was as much about strategy as it was commerce. A spy in their ranks could seriously screw up Jack’s plans.

  “Then our guys better work fast,” Jack said.

  Trent approached with deep worry lines on his brow. “Hey, I hate to interrupt, but we’ve got to get over to Oyster Avenue. Some yahoos decided to take down a tree themselves. It fell in the wrong direction and crashed through an old lady’s house.”

  For the first time in her adult life, Raven woke up alone and didn’t like it. Even Brilla had abandoned her on the big sectional overlooking the ocean.

  The smell of coffee coaxed Raven off the sofa. She padded into the kitchen, hoping to find Jack. He wasn’t there, but his empty mug was in the sink, and he’d left a note explaining that he’d gone to Main Street to find out when her tree would be cleared.

  Her spirits dipped a little as she poured some coffee then found a couple of fruit and spice mini muffins that they’d brought home from the Harbor’s Edge food kitchen yesterday. The house was so quiet. Too quiet. She missed Jack’s presence. Talking with him. Looking at him. Laughing at his jokes. They’d spent so much time together that she almost didn’t know what to do with herself without him here. But that was stupid. They’d only known each other for four days. She’d lived on her own since she was a teenager. She knew how to occupy her time.

  It would just be nicer if he were here. And she knew exactly what she’d tell him.

  Raven had been up most of the night, thinking about their conversation and her past, questioning her choices. Until yesterday, she’d assumed her no relationship rule was strictly about work. But Jack had opened her eyes to the possibility that it was, at least in part, rolled up in her complicated involvement in her mother’s death.

  She saw it now—how similar she and her father were, and not just in their commitment to their careers. He’d never quite known how to communicate with his girls, preferring to deal with his birds instead. So Raven, Wren, and Lark relied on each other for emotional support. When it came to feelings, their father had typically shut down. He’d done the same with Madeline, and that decision had cost them both.

  Raven hadn’t let herself get that far, cutting off any possibility of a relationship before it had a chance to begin. She had to hand it to herself. She was mercilessly thorough, ruthlessly effective, and alone.

  She wasn
’t sure how she felt about Jack. They got along fine, even great, and the sex was phenomenal. As for the “L” word, Raven had never felt it for a man, so she didn’t know if it was possible. Or if she could feel it for him.

  But of one thing she was certain: She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Jack when the ferry took them off the island. FaceTiming him after they went to their respective homes, getting to know him better, that felt do-able. Visiting him once in a while on a free weekend sounded even better.

  If that were acceptable to him, she’d give it a try. No promises, but it was more than she’d ever offered anyone else or been willing to risk herself. Hopefully, he’d understand that and realize how much it meant.

  Her cell buzzed with a text from Jack. Butterflies flitted in her chest as she opened it, hoping he was messaging to say he was on his way back.

  JACK: Hey babe. Hunter asked me to clear trees with Garvey’s crew so we can get to you before dark . . . sound good?

  Of all the contractors on the island, she trusted Garvey Tuckman and his cousin, Mack Dalton, the most. They’d make sure he came back with all his fingers intact. Squelching her disappointment, she texted back.

  RAVEN: Sounds great. Be safe. Don’t let anything happen to those big strong hands of yours.

  JACK: Nothing’s keeping them off that hot body of yours.

  A second later he texted again.

  JACK: I hope you’re feeling better this morning. I wanted to kiss you before I left, but you were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to disturb.

  RAVEN: Thanks. I am. Talk when you get back?

  JACK: Definitely. xo

  A thrill danced down Raven’s spine. He couldn’t wait to touch her again, and he’d added an “X” and “O” to the end of his text—a hug and a kiss.

  Raven laughed to herself. It was a giddy, bubbly sound so foreign that if it hadn’t come from her own mouth, she wouldn’t have believed it. She hadn’t felt like this since sixth grade when Eddie Conway, Class President, perennial spelling bee winner, and her biggest academic rival, was the singular object of her affection. Even as a pre-teen, she was driven for success and attracted to those who exuded it. Eddie bestowed her first kiss backstage at the annual speech contest, rocking her universe so hard, she’d flubbed her speech and come in second place. She was so gaga over him, it hadn’t mattered. Until she’d caught him kissing Suzie Hoffman behind the dinosaur books in the library and realized her kiss had been a tactic to throw her off her game. From then on, Raven made it her mission to crush Eddie in every one of their academic showdowns. He’d never won another spelling bee or speech contest again.

  That first crush was euphoric while it lasted. And now she was dipping in the same delicious pool of emotions and giggling herself silly over Jack.

  Holy shit. The realization struck like her fallen weeping willow. She was utterly and completely smitten.

  What was unthinkable just three days ago was a boldface, matter of fact. How extraordinary.

  Brilla trotted into the room and went straight for her water dish. When she’d had her fill, she sidled up to Raven.

  “Hello there.” Raven reached down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. “Can I tell you a secret?” The dog looked up at her, her black, bulging eyes signaling either intense interest or a deep yearning for a biscuit. Raven lowered her voice, almost afraid to speak the words out loud. “I like your daddy. A lot.”

  Chapter 18

  “Holy shit.” Jack stared at the front of Mrs. Hendrix’s house, or what was left of it. A giant oak had toppled from the next-door neighbor’s yard, smashing her white picket fence, front porch, and entryway. Bricks lay scattered on the ground.

  He searched the crowd that had gathered on the street but didn’t see the elderly woman. Shit, she must still be inside.

  Garvey shook his head in disgust. “This is why yahoos shouldn’t be allowed to use chainsaws.”

  “I bet it was a weekender,” Trent said with derision. He glanced at Jack. “No offense.”

  Jack shrugged. “None taken.” Only an asshat would’ve tried to cut down that tree by himself.

  Hunter approached them. “Thanks for coming so quickly.”

  “How’s Mrs. Henderson?” Jack asked. He’d only met the elderly lady once, the first time he and Raven had walked downtown, but the feisty nonagenarian had made a lasting impression.

  “She’s trapped inside. Rattled but otherwise okay,” Hunter answered.

  “Can’t she come out the back?” Mack asked.

  Hunter shook his head. “The storm’s got her rheumatism acting up, so she’s in a wheelchair. We can’t carry her out because the yard is still flooded, and those back steps of hers are steep and rickety.”

  Sam grunted. “Why didn’t she go to Claire’s until all this was cleaned up and the electricity’s back on?”

  Jack was impressed he could keep up with the conversation. It was almost as if he were a real Heron Harborite.

  Hunter shot Sam a knowing glance. “Since when does Mrs. Hendrix do anything she doesn’t want to do?”

  “Never,” Sam answered.

  Hunter nodded. “Exactly.”

  That sounded on-brand for the lady he’d met on the street.

  Mack faced the assembled crowd and jabbed his thumb at the fallen tree. “Who the hell decided to take this thing down?”

  A douche in a Burberry rain jacket sheepishly raised his hand. Yup. Definitely a weekender.

  “What were you thinking?” Trent asked.

  “The tree behind it fell during the storm, and this one started leaning, so I figured it was vulnerable. I didn’t think it would be a big deal to take it down. I also thought it would fall in the other direction.”

  “Uh-huh,” Garvey deadpanned.

  “I hope you’ve got good insurance,” Jack said.

  Burberry nodded. “I’m good.”

  “I’m sure you are.” Judging from the Maserati GT convertible in his driveway, he'd probably pay for the repairs on Mrs. Hendrix’s house in cash.

  Garvey slapped his hands together. “Let’s get her out of there.”

  Jack and the rest of Garvey’s crew got to work clearing the tree. An hour later, they’d cut enough away to access the house. From there, Garvey and Mack supervised the demolition of the porch and entryway so they could get to Mrs. Hendrix.

  Jack was the first to breach the house. “Mrs. Hendrix,” he called.

  There was no answer. He gingerly stepped through the rubble of what used to be her foyer and pressed on through the hall, calling her name as he passed a formal living room, a dining room, the kitchen, and then finally a sunroom. He found her there, hunched in her wheelchair, her hands clutched at her chest.

  He knelt at her side. “Mrs. Hendrix, are you okay?”

  Her breath was labored. “Ma . . . my h-heart.” It was all she managed.

  “Do you have any medications I should give you?”

  She shook her head, and her eyes pleaded for help.

  He gently hoisted her from the chair, cradled her in his arms, and carried her out of the house.

  They emerged into the afternoon sunshine, and the crowd on the street gasped at her feeble state.

  “She needs to get to a hospital right away,” Jack called as he headed straight for Hunter’s cruiser. There was no time to wait for an ambulance to arrive.

  “Put her in the back,” Hunter said, then rounded to the front of his car.

  Jack eased Mrs. Hendrix down on the back seat. She snatched his hand, and her old, thin fingers held fast. “Don’t l-leave me.”

  Jack sat in the hall in Seaside Hospital’s small Emergency Department while Mrs. Hendrix underwent tests. She’d asked him to wait, so now he flipped through hospital brochures to pass the time. Seaside delivered the basics that any community needed and left the big procedures—organ transplants, shock trauma, and serious cosmetic surgeries—to the larger hospitals on the mainland.

  Finally, a nurse called him back to Mrs.
Hendrix’s small room. The old woman lay in her bed, looking much more rested than when he’d brought her in. She was hooked up to machines monitoring her heart rate, pulse, and blood pressure, and a cannula inserted into her nostrils delivered oxygen.

  She lit up when he entered. “There’s my hero. Oh, I like the beard.” Her voice was tired and raspy but still had a spark.

  Jack laughed and reflexively brushed his hand against his cheek. “Thanks, it’s a work in progress.”

  “Aren’t we all? It’s distinguished. You should keep it.” The glint in her eye was all mischief.

  “I’m glad to see you’re looking better, Mrs. Hendrix.”

  “I’m feeling better,” she said, patting the bed, gesturing for him to sit. But he was too large, and she was far too frisky for him to oblige.

  “I’m dirty from cutting trees all day.” He pointed to his soiled jeans and jacket, then dragged the side chair over to her bed. “Have they told you what happened? Did you have a heart attack?”

  She shook her head. “It was a panic attack and an angina attack in one. Can you believe it?”

  “Well, we did demolish part of your house while you were in it. That was pretty stressful.”

  A wistful expression crossed her face. “My husband and I bought that house back in 1962. We were the first Black couple to buy a home on Heron Harbor. I guess I didn’t realize how much I loved it till y’all started tearing it up.”

  Jack reached for her gnarled hand. “I’m sorry. If it helps, I’m pretty sure your neighbor has more than enough money to make it right.”

  Mrs. Hendrix shook her head. “Bah. Money isn’t everything, you know.”

  True, but it made life a hell of a lot easier. He smiled. “It’ll rebuild your house.”

  She blew out a hard puff of air. “Might look the same, but it won’t be the same.”