Distress Signal (Dusk Valley #2)

Chapter 1

one

. . .

REAGAN

I pointed at my ass. “That belong to you?”

On the final night of our hiking trip, my twin sister, Lainey, and I wandered into the local dive bar, which happened to be the only bar in this entire county. She wanted to dance, and I wanted to drink something that wasn’t water.

Unfortunately, as I’d been on my way to the bar for another round, several guys had gotten handsy, and the latest offender now faced my ire.

What the fuck was it with men, anyway? Putting their hands—and other things—places they didn’t belong?

This whole trip had come to fruition because I’d caught my ex-boyfriend balls deep in another girl, and Lainey suggested we get the hell out of dodge.

The timing couldn’t have worked out better, lining up perfectly with spring break, the final one of our college careers.

While the bulk of our classmates headed south for warmer, more tropical locales, Lainey and I traveled north and west, ending up in southwestern Idaho in a place I’d never heard of.

Dusk Valley.

An idyllic name for, I had to admit, a damn charming little town.

Chuckling and shooting me a wink, the offending asshole said, “Not yet.”

Stepping forward until I was in his face—eye level, because we were the same goddamn height—batting my lashes like some doe-eyed school girl, I said sweetly, “You ever touch me again, and I will own your dick after I break it off your body. Understood?”

“Oooooh,” his friends chorused, laughter bubbling out of both of them, but the man in question sneered. Red crept up from the collar of his worn flannel shirt, spreading to his cheeks. Beneath the brim of his hat, I was certain a vein pulsed in the center of his forehead.

“You bitch,” he hissed, some spittle landing on my cheek. “I ought to teach you a lesson about respect.”

I moved backward. Not because I was afraid of him, but out of sheer desperation to get away from the reek of beer on his breath. “Seems like you missed that lesson yourself.”

If such a thing were possible, steam would’ve come pouring out of his ears then, and he sputtered for something to say.

Satisfied with a job well done, I turned away, intent on continuing my journey to the bar, but I was once again pulled up short by something colliding with my back.

I knew how to take care of myself when it came to drunk men.

In addition to the regular self-defense classes Lainey and I had started taking on a whim last fall, I’d put myself through college by waiting tables and bartending.

But now fear gripped me, even as the self-preservation instincts that had been drilled into me rose to the surface.

Coming after me with my back turned was a fucking coward’s move, and the only way to ensure I couldn’t mount a proper counterattack.

“I’m so sorry,” the person who bumped into me said when I faced them, and I realized it wasn’t the man who’d been hitting on me but a woman, the front of her shirt wet from a spilled drink.

“What happened?”

She waved a hand behind her, then accepted a stack of bar napkins from another woman who appeared at her side.

“Pissing contest between a couple guys.”

Shoving past me, she and her friend disappeared, and the scene unfolded before me.

A man—a big man, thick arms nearly covered with tattoos—had my offender slammed face-first onto a nearby table. Glasses and bottles went flying, shattered pieces skittering across the floor. People nearby fled in gasps of annoyance and shouts of alarm.

Mr. Tall and Tatted twisted the guy’s arm behind his back at an unnatural angle, and the man’s face contorted in pain. Then the big guy leaned in and said something too low for me to hear.

“I’m sorry!” the asshat shouted in anguish. “It’ll never happen again!”

The big man’s eyes lifted and scanned the crowd until they landed on me.

Damn, even from ten feet away, his bright blue irises were piercing, reminding me of the watering hole Lainey and I used to spend hot summer days in as kids. We were too poor to afford the community pool, but we had the best times on those narrow shores.

“Say it to her,” the big guy told his captive, nodding in my direction.

“I’m sorry!” he groaned in my direction. “It won’t happen again!”

“You’re damn right,” I said, then flicked my gaze back to Mr. Tall and Tatted. “You can let him go now.”

He did as I asked, saying, “Get the fuck out of here, Tony, before my brothers and I make you leave.”

Tony held his hands up in surrender, then slowly brought one to his back pocket, withdrew several bills from his wallet, and tossed them on the table before disappearing into the crowd, his flunkies in tow.

All sound in the bar had died at the altercation. Even the band had ceased playing, and my ears rang in the silence.

“Round on me!” Mr. Tall and Tatted shouted, whirling his finger around, then shooting the female bartender a wink as the crowd resumed its evening, the band kicking up an old Alan Jackson tune.

“Very impressive,” I said when he approached.

I knew I could take care of myself, but I’d be damned if that display of masculinity didn’t give me ideas that would set feminism back a few hundred years. This man…he was that hot.

He shrugged. “I’ve learned a thing or two over the years.” Jerking his head toward the bar, he asked, “Can I get you a drink?”

“This round’s on you, remember?”

“What’ll it be?” the bartender asked when she approached.

“Two vodka sodas, please,” I said.

“Two?” the man asked as the woman stepped away to fill my order. “You’re here with someone?”

“Yes.”

“Damn,” he muttered.

“Oh!” I realized my mistake and chuckled. “I’m here with my sister.”

The man visibly relaxed, his shoulders dropping, and he made an exaggerated show of wiping sweat off his brow.

“Thank fuck,” he breathed. “I was actually on my way over to ask if I could buy you a drink when the whole thing with Tony unfolded.”

With a smirk, I gestured to the bar. “Looks like your plan worked.”

Wait, was I flirting with him?

I wasn’t the girl who turned on the charm to get guys to buy me drinks.

That was all Lainey’s domain. Maybe I had been that girl once upon a time.

Before life had thrown curveball after curveball at my head, and I spent too long fighting them off to pay much attention to anything else.

Now, I was only along for the ride, making sure she didn’t get in too much trouble.

You know, typical big sister shit—even if all that separated us in age was a measly five minutes.

My back pocket vibrated, and I withdrew my phone to find a text from Lainey.

LAINEY

Where the fuck are you? I can feel myself sobering up by the second.

I rolled my eyes. Such dramatics.

The bartender returned with my drinks, and though I was loath to walk away from this sexy as sin mystery man, I needed to get back to Lainey.

Lifting the glasses in the air, I did an awkward shrug-head nod combination and said, “Well, it was nice meeting you. Thanks for these.”

Before he could say anything else, I walked away.

Between sending that text and my reappearance, Lainey seemed to have forgotten all about the alcohol and was instead wholly focused on a different kind of drug: male attention.

Spotting me, she left the guy in question with a caress to his arm and crossed the short distance back to our table.

“Sooooo…” she began when I slid the glasses onto the round high top. Stepping close to me, she leaned in so she could speak directly into my ear to be heard over the crowd. “I’m leaving.”

Over her shoulder, I took a moment to study the guy.

His back was to us, and he was giving high fives to the two guys seated with him—clearly in celebration that he’d managed to bag my sister.

There wasn’t much to say about his appearance since I couldn’t see his face, but he stood no taller than six feet.

His hair was a nondescript shade of brown, and his shoulders weren’t broad exactly, but wide enough to suggest he did some sort of hard labor for work.

Arguing with Lainey wouldn’t do any good, only drive her out the door faster, so I didn’t waste my breath. I simply pulled her into a hug, whispered, “Be safe,” and sent her on her way.

“I love you too!” she yelled over her shoulder as she allowed the man to lead her through the crush of people toward the exit.

“Well, fuck,” I muttered.

There was no way in hell I was staying here alone. Leaving the drinks untouched on the table, I started working my way through the crowd in the same direction Lainey and her flavor of the evening had disappeared.

With my head down, I unashamedly elbowed my way toward the door—until a large hand caught me around the upper arm and pulled me to a stop.

Not again.

“Look, pal,” I started, whirling around, guns blazing, ready to lay into this asshole.

Only to find myself staring up into those gorgeous blue eyes belonging to Mr. Tall and Tatted.

He let me go, raising his hands. “Sorry. I saw you on a mission and couldn’t let you leave.”

I quirked a brow. “Oh?”

“I wanted to buy you a drink, remember?”

“And you did…”

“Then where is it?”

“Oh, I…” Damn. Why was I so flustered? Something about his eyes had knocked me off balance, clearly. “Look, my sister ditched me for a hookup, and I don’t really want to be here alone.”

One side of his mouth ticked up in a half grin. “You’re not alone.”

“You mean you?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

Why not, indeed?

Other than the fact that I had no idea what this man’s name was, I didn’t have a good reason not to stick around.

You know, for science.

Deciding it was time to fix our lack of proper introduction, I stuck my hand out. “Reagan,” I offered.

He accepted my handshake, his large palm entirely engulfing mine. An electrical current zinged up my arm and spread through the rest of my body, illuminating my nerve endings in a way I’d never experienced before.

Chemistry.

Was it possible? Could I be experiencing that elusive lust-at-first-sight with the hottest man I’d ever laid eyes on?