Dead of Spring (Whistlemore #2)

Chapter 1

Crack! Pop!

Quin leaned his shoulder against the tree next to him.

The rough bark scraped his thick flannel jacket.

Even though he stood twenty feet away, hidden from the contained fire that blazed under the full moon, his skin warmed from the heat.

Or maybe it was the fiery brown-haired beauty making his body temperature rise.

Too many times he’d sat around the fire on the same stripped fallen tree trunk where she now sat, watching Josie Ryan.

Only this time, he was being creepy as fuck.

This time, she didn’t know he was watching, and this time, she’d skin him alive if she caught him.

Or worse, banish him from their hometown, which she had every right to do.

She was sitting with two other women. He couldn’t make out their faces, but he’d bet his right arm one of them was her best friend, McKenna.

He itched to turn his wrist and check the time, but the last thing he needed was them seeing the light from his watch—or sensing his movement. He’d been gone eight months, but he’d never forget how powerful Josie’s intuition was.

He had to talk to her. Tonight.

When he’d knocked on her door and no one answered, it clicked. Tonight was a full moon. Josie would be out doing her thing in the field. Crystals, intentions, tea . . . Josie hadn’t changed. But her life sure as hell had.

One of the women stood and reached for a bucket. He stiffened and pulled away from the tree as she doused the fire.

Now he had to figure out how to convince his deceased best friend’s girlfriend not to hate him.

* * *

“That went by fast.” Josie stretched her arms over her head and bent to scoop up her oracle cards from the turned-over wooden box she kept in the field behind her house for this very reason. Opening her knitted bag, she dropped them inside and reached for her selenite crystal, tucking it away.

“I’m so tired,” McKenna said with a yawn. “Staying out past midnight once a month is wearing on my old body.”

“Oh, shush,” chimed Desiree. “You’re barely over thirty and you know you’re hot. Or at least Jaxon does.”

McKenna guffawed and stood from trunk. “Next month, ladies?”

“You bet,” Josie said. She’d been the one to end their meeting.

Ever since the clock crept up on midnight, an eerie cloak had been pulling down on her spine.

Something was telling her to get home and shut herself inside.

Maybe it was the anniversary of Liam’s death that had her feeling jumpy as all get-out.

No. That wasn’t true. For the last few weeks she’d been uneasy—waking to every little sound at night, which was almost silly in their small mountain community of Whistlemore. But things weren’t as they used to be. This past year had taught her that every day came with new uncertainties.

The women gathered the rest of their belongings and headed toward the line of trees that separated Josie’s backyard from the small clearing that was the field.

Although fatigue hummed along her nerve endings, Josie felt the usual sense of rejuvenation that meeting with the girls gave her.

Something about letting go of her pent-up emotions along with the old moon did wonders for her soul.

The grass brushed over her loafers. An icy March wind swept through the mountains, making her pull the lapels of her coat tighter.

Desiree and McKenna trekked beside her in silence.

Shadows draped the trees ahead of them, and Josie blinked to avoid staring at the ominous shapes that would have made her scurry for her back door if it weren’t for her two best friends at her side.

Something was different tonight. A thickness in the air. A reminder of everything she’d lost. Everything that couldn’t be replaced and the twisting pain in her heart that burned every time she tried.

Three days until she had to relive the worst day of her life.

“You okay, Jos?” Dez asked. “You’ve been quiet tonight—umph.” A swift movement next to Dez told Josie that McKenna had elbowed her in the ribs. “I mean . . .”

“I’m fine. You both know what Monday is.” Dang it, so much for striving for gratitude rather than grief. She sighed and slung her bag higher onto her shoulder. The lightness of the material made her stop in her tracks. “Shit, I think I left my thermos. You girls go ahead. Text me tomorrow.”

McKenna’s brows pinch in the moonlight, but her friend lifted her hand and waved. “Night, love.”

Josie headed back to where they’d held their circle. She wasn’t in the mood to talk about Liam. Not right before bed when she’d lie awake, missing her lover and best friend. Plus, she was awake three hours past her bedtime. She needed rest.

She spotted her thermos under the tree trunk. By the time she’d retrieved it, her friends’ forms were out of sight.

Snap

She froze. Fear blazed up her back.

God, please don’t let a wild animal eat me tonight.

Her fingers dug into the thermos. Terror rapped against her breastbone. Goosebumps pulled at the flesh on her arms. She slowly inched her free hand toward the bear spray dangling from the clip at her side.

She had to get back to the house. Scouring the landscape around her with her gaze, she blinked in rapid succession, but no other sounds followed.

Unhooking the bear spray, she held it in her palm and moved through the grass.

Chamomile tea sloshed in her stomach, its relaxing effects long freaking gone.

She crossed the line of trees then stepped into her backyard.

Still nothing. Surely a mountain lion or bear would have attacked her by now.

Still, apprehension blazed between her shoulder blades. Running would only spur on the hunter’s instinct. The cold breeze made the sweat on her forehead turn downright frigid. She wet her lips as her porch’s back steps came within reach.

A movement at the side of the porch caught her eye. Without a moment’s hesitation, she whipped the spray in front of her and compressed the lever. Fluid shot from the nozzle and caught her assailant in the face.

She spotted a glimpse of blue flannel through the mist—a man, not a wild animal, flailing the spray away. But it was too late. He’d caught a cloud in the face.

“Jesus, Josie! Shut that off!”

Her fingers went weak. She lowered the can and wet her lips again. That voice. Never in a million years would she forget that growl. “Q-Quin?”

She stumbled and caught the overhanging wooden railing at the edge of the steps. The dim lamplight shining through the living-room window didn’t illuminate his features, but she knew the hunched form on his knees. Knew the dirty-blond hair, the muscular build. It couldn’t be anyone but Quin.

He coughed. Sharp moans and curses sailed from his lips as he dropped to the ground. He scrubbed his eyes and moved through the mist that hung in the air, crawling devastatingly close to her knees.

He groaned and mopped at his eyes again. “Yeah, it’s me. Wish I could see your face, but you fucking blinded me.” Moisture coated his cheeks.

Josie’s tongue moved around the dry cavern of her mouth. The thick stench of the bear spray clung to the air. She backed away before the fumes got her and stared as the man on the ground struggled to breathe.

Quin Levington.

The air squeezed out of her lungs as her lips moved silently over his name, playing with the letters as if she were at a bloody wine tasting. But there was nothing delicious about him. Not anymore.

She clenched her hands. Hitting him would feel really effing good, but the bear spray had done a better job of hurting him.

“You have no right to be here.” The words came out on a rushed breath, followed by the crushing pain that suffocated her every time she thought about Quin.

About how he’d left. How he’d made everyone in their mountain community hate his guts.

He gasped and shuffled to the bottom step, using his hand as a guide. “Can you get me something for my eyes? I’m dying here.”

She opened and closed her hands at her sides. A small ball of pity started to unravel in her chest as she watched him. He rubbed his fingers over his eye sockets. Tears coated his cheeks and the skin of his face flamed a bright red.

Hours ago, she would have been tickled at the idea of Quin being sprayed with bear mace. She didn’t welcome the guilt that came instead. Damn him for taking that enjoyment from her too.

The moon coated them in its glow, reminding her that it was late. That his presence was an intrusion. But for the life of her, she couldn’t make him leave. Especially since she had temporarily blinded him.

She swiveled around his sitting form and marched up the steps, growing more annoyed with each stomp.

She bumped open the back door she always kept unlocked because small-town mountain folk didn’t do something as paranoid as lock their doors.

In the kitchen, she pulled out a clean dish towel from a drawer and wet it with cold water.

She returned outside and dangled the cloth in front of him. “Here.”

He accepted the towel and massaged it over his face as he exhaled a shaky breath. “Fuck, that burns. Did you really have to do that?”

“Did you really have to come to my house?” She moved down the remaining steps, stopping in front of him, and jammed her fists on her hips.

Outrage sizzled her senses. Millions of times she’d prepared herself for the day she’d come face-to-face with Quin again.

She had a rant stored somewhere in the back of her mind that should have been locked and loaded.

But laying her eyes on the familiarity of Liam’s best friend—her friend too, or so she’d thought—had taken the steam from her attack.

He blinked and sucked back air sharply, as if his sinuses burned too. “Yeah, actually, I did. It’s not like I could have approached you during your circle.”