Chapter 3
What the hell? Moriah lowered herself to the couch and continued to stare at the door the stranger had closed moments before.
She still wasn’t sure what had just happened or why the man, KC he’d called himself, was still here and what she would do about it.
Hell, she wasn’t even sure if that was his name.
She’d only looked at his picture when she glanced at his license, too scared to take her eyes off him for long.
She couldn’t go back to sleep with a strange man across the hallway from her room.
She couldn’t force him to leave on her own, he’d proven that.
She also didn’t want to call Mr. Malone in the middle of the night to come over and get his nephew out of there.
And she definitely didn’t want to call the police to remove him—that would result in too many questions she couldn’t answer.
Moriah reluctantly realized her only option was to make a pot of coffee, stay up, and wait until KC woke up.
Then she would convince him he had to leave.
If he wouldn’t, she’d have to hit the road and disappear again.
Four miserable hours later, Moriah was still sitting on the couch, the gun on the cushion beside her within easy reach, as she sipped her third cup of coffee.
She didn’t know why she bothered drinking the potent brew because it made her more nervous than she already was.
Glancing around, she surveyed the family photos scattered about the room.
Many of them were of Dan Malone, KC, and his brothers, who were all quite handsome.
Some photos were obviously of the boys in their youth with their uncle, and others were with a couple who she assumed were their parents.
In one picture, the three pre-pubescent boys were dressed as cowboys.
In another photo, they were wearing pint-sized military uniforms.
There were also pictures of a much younger Dan and a beautiful blonde woman, and from how they looked at each other, it was apparent they were very much in love.
Moriah wondered who the woman was and where she was today.
Scanning the multiple frames around the room and in the hallway, she couldn’t find any pictures of the woman in recent years or updated photos of the boys’ parents.
The Malone’s appeared to be a close-knit family, and Moriah sighed, wishing hers had been the same while she was growing up in Chicago.
After several long absences over the years, her so-called father finally left her mother for good when Moriah was a teenager.
By then, the dream of an ideal childhood had long since faded away.
She knew her mother wanted, and tried, to be there for her and her sister, but she worked long hours at two jobs to ensure a roof over their heads and food on the table.
Her work and sleep occupied most, if not all, of her time.
Fourteen-year-old Moriah had taught herself to cook and helped around the house with laundry and cleaning.
She’d tried to give her younger sister a sense of consistency and lead her in the right direction.
Still, Susan, then eleven, was more interested in boys and eventually drugs than listening to her sibling.
While Moriah was in their apartment doing her chores and homework, Susan was running with the wrong crowd and finding endless trouble to get caught up in.
There were times she barely avoided being sent to juvenile detention.
Now, Moriah wondered if her sister had ended up there, would she have turned her life around and still be alive today, or would the results have been the same?
Susan’s wild and promiscuous lifestyle caught up to her when she became pregnant at seventeen.
The child’s father denied the baby was his and left town before he was born.
But little Nicholas became a stabilizing rod for Susan as she tried to mature and become a good mother to her child.
She agreed to drug counseling and found an evening job as a waitress at a local restaurant.
With the extra income, their mother was able to quit her second job and help care for the baby.
The little boy became the light of Moriah’s life.
She loved to come home from her part-time job or classes at the local community college to play with him.
The sisters and their mother doted on him as much as possible, and Nicholas was a happy child, if not a little spoiled.
Moriah loved going to the local dollar store, since that was all she could afford, and finding a new toy for him or borrowing children’s books from the library.
She’d read to him aloud whenever she could, and it quickly became their favorite time together.
As soon as Moriah finished one book, he’d hand her another one.
She lost count of how many times she’d read Winnie the Pooh to him.
Things went very smoothly for the family for a few years.
Nicholas had grown into a bubbly five-year-old and peppered everyone with “why” questions from morning until night.
His grandmother appeared younger and more relaxed than she had in years.
Susan stayed clean, and Moriah was one semester away from her teaching degree.
It seemed as if things were finally going well for all of them.
But about seven months ago, Moriah started to notice the tell-tale signs that Susan was using drugs again.
Her sister would suddenly be short of money and had to borrow from Moriah and her mother.
She’d begun asking them to babysit Nicholas more and more.
She would also come home much later from the end of her shift at the local Chili’s, and Moriah was left wondering if her sister still had the job.
The most noticeable change was Susan’s appearance, which began to go downhill as she cared less and less about her clothes and hygiene.
Her weight dropped drastically. Moriah knew all the signs pointed to a crack cocaine user—hell, their seedy neighborhood was full of them.
Through the neighborhood grapevine, she’d discovered her sister was dating a small-time drug dealer named Leo Simmons.
Moriah knew the asshole by reputation only.
He’d started pushing drugs on his high school classmates before he was arrested and expelled for possession.
At the time, he was still a minor, so the courts gave him a slap on the wrist and a short stint in juvenile detention.
After his release, he returned to the drug business, and if the rumors she’d heard were true, he was being protected by a few crooked cops.
Moriah had given her sister an ultimatum—break up with the dirtbag or move out.
Without Nicholas. Moriah refused to allow her nephew to be exposed to his mother’s dangerous lifestyle.
Susan begged forgiveness and swore she would stop seeing Leo.
She cleaned herself up again and, for a few short weeks, appeared to be back on the right track.
Moriah would never stop blaming herself for taking Susan’s word that everything would be okay.
Shifting on the couch for what seemed like the hundredth time in the past hour, she stared out the row of windows facing the beach.
The sun was beginning its slow crawl up the clear horizon, bathing the sky in hues of ripe pineapples, cherries, and tangerines.
It was so beautiful and peaceful at the shore, and Moriah wished she could live here forever.
The sounds of the pounding surf had comforted her over the past few days.
She’d loved the feel of the silky sand between her toes during the few times she’d dared to venture out onto the beach.
Charming was how she would describe Whisper, North Carolina.
She’d seen the center of the little town twice.
Once, when Dan Malone had driven her through it on the way to the cottage, and again, when she’d taken a cab to the grocery store to stock up on a week’s worth of food.
It was the type of town where people could easily walk around the mile length of stores and municipal buildings instead of driving.
She wondered if they held picnics and parades in the main square on the 4th of July or any other day.
She’d read about many small towns that celebrated that way in the romance books she’d cherished since she was a teenager.
A voracious reader, she couldn’t get enough of books.
Since arriving in Whisper three days ago, she had already gone through two local history books she’d found on a shelf in the cottage and was currently on chapter five of a well-read copy of Jaws.
Growing up in Chicago, Moriah could never imagine living in a place that didn’t bustle twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.
She was, however, beginning to think she could learn to enjoy the slow pace and quiet atmosphere of a small community.
It was too bad she wouldn’t be around long enough to find out.
As the sun continued its climb in the east, the rest of the morning sky turned into a colorful mural, and Moriah contemplated her unexpected visitor. KC was incredibly good-looking, and she was annoyed at herself for noticing. Well, any woman with a pulse would have noticed, she told herself.
With broad shoulders and a chiseled chest and back, he stood about six-five, taller than most men she knew.
Thick medium-brown hair hung a few inches past the nape of his neck, and his wicked, hazel eyes were captivating.
A scar over his right temple almost ruined what could be a movie star’s face.
He hadn’t used a razor in several days, which added to his bad-boy attractiveness.
In a snug black T-shirt and tan cargo pants, it had been blatantly obvious he was in excellent physical shape, and she wondered how he managed to stay that way.