Chapter 5
“So, as usual, you know nothing about Ms. Maura Jennings. She’s just another needy person in a long line of needy people.”
KC helped restock the shelves in the hardware store while he chastised his uncle.
The closest nationwide home-improvement store was about fifteen miles away, so most of the locals still used Malone’s Hardware for convenience and out of a sense of loyalty.
In addition to everything a good hardware store kept in stock, Dan also kept a moderate supply of fishing gear and frozen bait for the anglers in the community.
Behind the counter were many pictures of impressive catches made by some locals over the years, including a few from KC and his brothers.
The older man sliced open another box of latex paint with the box cutter he was never without. “I know she’s in some sort of trouble and needs help. What else is there to know?”
KC raised an eyebrow at Dan but continued to work. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe she was trouble and not in trouble?”
“Nope, and neither did you.”
Despite rolling his eyes, he knew his uncle was right. He’d seen genuine fear in Maura’s eyes last night and wondered, if she had to, could she actually have fired the gun at him?
Handing him two more gallons of semi-gloss paint, Dan continued.
“She told me she’d been in an abusive relationship and finally got the courage to leave the guy.
She has no family and decided to travel a bit before figuring out where she wants to settle down.
She’s afraid the ex-boyfriend will come after her. ”
“That would explain the gun.”
Dan froze in surprise. “Gun? What gun?”
He reached over and grabbed the paint cans his uncle held suspended in mid-air. “The one she pulled on me when I let myself into the cottage at two in the morning.”
Dan chuckled. “Got the jump on you, eh? I would’ve given good money to see that.”
“You could have warned me, you know.”
“But where would the fun be in that?” Dan laughed louder as he slapped his oldest nephew on the back.
The two of them gathered the empty boxes and tossed them into the rear stock room before heading back to the front of the store.
Jimmy, the teenager who worked at the store after school, would break the boxes down later for recycling.
KC followed his uncle to the counter, crouching to rub Jinx’s belly. Snoring on his back in a sunbeam by the front door, the large dog slept with all four paws in the air. As he straightened again, KC muttered, “Useless mutt.”
His uncle began to restock a rack of batteries behind the counter. “Jinx would resent that if he was awake.”
“When I see him earn his keep, maybe I’ll change my opinion of him. Until then, he’s nothing but a useless mutt.”
Dan looked over his shoulder and eyed his nephew curiously. “So, what did you think?”
Unsure what the man was talking about, KC tilted his head. “About what?”
“Not what, who. Maura. She’s a looker, don’t you think?”
Glancing around the store, he avoided making eye contact with his uncle. “I really hadn’t noticed.”
The bald-faced lie received a loud snort. “Sure you didn’t.”
KC knew better than to deny it further—of course, he’d fucking noticed.
After all, he was a healthy, heterosexual male, and Maura wasn’t just a looker, she was downright fucking gorgeous.
In the middle of the night, after he closed his bedroom door, he’d been hard as granite, and it wasn’t from the adrenaline of having a gun pointed at him.
It’d been a response to all her exposed, feminine flesh.
Ever since he’d eyed those long, sexy legs extending downward from the skimpy T-shirt she’d apparently worn to bed, he could think of nothing else.
Well, except maybe what the T-shirt hadn’t shown.
It had hung on her slim figure, molding itself to her curves in all the right places.
The darkness of her nipples had been visible through the thin cotton.
He could imagine the weight of her breasts in his hands as his thumbs brushed over their stiff peaks.
She had beautiful, auburn hair, which fell to the middle of her back.
He’d been disappointed to see it pulled up into a ponytail when he found her in the kitchen earlier.
His hand had itched for him to walk over and release the silky strands from their bondage.
The reddish-brown color was a perfect contrast to her pale, porcelain skin and sexy, baby-blue eyes.
She was an erotic beauty from head to toe.
As his younger brother Sean would say, she was a walking hard-on. Yup, he had definitely noticed.
Shaking the vision from his mind before his body could react to it again, he changed the subject.
“I was a little surprised you rented the house. None of us have stayed there for more than a week or two in years. Hell, since you live above this place, I’m amazed you never sold it.
It’s got to be worth a small fortune in today’s market. ”
“Renting it to someone in need is one thing, but you know I would never sell it.” His uncle sounded wistful.
“Annie and I bought the place a few weeks after we were married. Scraped together every penny we could and mortgaged it to the hilt. Even when money was tight, your aunt decorated the place really nice. She and I painted every room ourselves after she spent hours picking out just the right colors. Annie would scour yard sales and make something useful and beautiful from other people’s junk.
Even on her sickest days, she would be telling me to move something, or dust something, or fluff something, just to be sure everything was perfect. ”
KC smiled. He’d heard this story many times since he was a kid, and as it always did, it made him wish he’d known his aunt.
She had passed away long before the Malone brothers were born, but they were raised with stories of Aunt Annie.
He knew a small bit of his Uncle Dan had died along with his wife many years ago.
“Even though we only had two wonderful years together there, it will always be our place. I could never give it up. And someday it will belong to you and your brothers . . .” He pointed to KC with a frown. “And if you ever sell it, I’ll come back from the grave and haunt your sorry asses!”
KC’s smile got even bigger. “I’m sure you will. But now that you’ve rented it temporarily, I need a place to crash, so I guess it’ll be on your couch.”
“Um, that’s impossible.”
“Why?” he asked as his eyes narrowed. When his uncle avoided looking him straight in the face, his suspicions grew.
“Well, you see . . . Jinx kind of ate something which didn’t agree with him last week and got sick all over the couch. It stunk to high heaven, and I couldn’t get the stains out, so I had to get rid of it. I haven’t had time to pick out a new one yet.”
The younger man frowned, and he glared at the sleeping dog. “I told you he was a useless mutt. Now, I have to find another place to crash for four weeks or until you replace your damn couch. Guess I’ll call Brian.”
“Uh, that won’t work either.”
Sigh. “Why the hell not?”
“One of his buddies from the police department got kicked out by his wife, so the guy has been bunking on Brian’s couch until he finds an apartment.”
“Great, just great. What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” KC put his hands on his hips in exasperation.
He didn’t want to drive back to Little Creek and spend his leave on the base, and Sean lived too far away in Florida.
He still had many friends in Whisper, but none he wanted to impose on for a month.
“Watch your language, and there’s a perfectly good bed back at the cottage.”
Dan pretended to readjust a few things on the shelf behind the counter to hide his smile, but KC still noticed it anyway. What the fuck is the old man up to? “Your renter has made it perfectly clear she doesn’t want a housemate.”
“She has, has she? Well then, why don’t I just talk to Maura, explain the problem, and see if she wouldn’t mind putting up with your surly butt for a few days?” He shrugged. “Until I get a new couch, that is.”
KC grunted. “I’m not surly.” He ignored his uncle’s snort of disagreement. “And I don’t need you to solve my problems for me. I’ll talk to her.”
A chuckle escaped his uncle. “Well, the least you could do is turn on some of the famous Malone charm you allegedly inherited instead of looking like an ogre.”
He laughed even harder when KC rolled his eyes and pasted an unnatural smile on his face before flashing the older man his middle finger.
Moriah scanned the deserted beach in both directions before descending from the elevated deck to the patio.
It was early in May and too cool for sunbathers and swimmers.
Children were still in school, and tourist season didn’t start for another week or two.
Over the weekend, there had been a few body surfers in the water and several people walking or jogging on the beach, but today was a workday, and no one was in sight.
She checked the driveway and the street and saw nothing or anyone out of place.
Sighing with relief, she returned to the patio.
Like most beach houses in the area, this one was built on stilts, and in combination with the dunes, it had avoided flooding during the worst of storms over the past sixty years.
Ducking under the house, she crab-crawled over to one of the middle supports and knelt.
The sand didn’t seem to have been disturbed since she checked it the day before.
Digging with her hands, she uncovered a black nylon gym bag and pulled it partially out of the hole.
Unzipping the bag, Moriah stared at the contents.
Cash. Cold, hard cash. Almost one hundred thousand dollars.
She still couldn’t fathom that much money.
The money her family had been killed for and the reason she was on the run.
Brushing back her tears, she took several hundred-dollar bills from one of the many bundles, zipped up the bag, and buried it again in the hole.
She tried to make the sand look untouched in case someone glanced under the cottage.
Stuffing the money into her back pocket, she crawled out to the patio again.
Looking around and still seeing nothing amiss, Moriah brushed the sand off her jeans and hands before heading back into the house.
She decided that after lunch, she would walk the seven blocks to Main Street and the general store to pick up a few things.
Not too much, because she didn’t want to be bogged down with extra baggage when she eventually left Whisper.
She was positive the money wasn’t marked—it was doubtful drug dealers would do that sort of thing—so there was no way she could be traced by using it.
The money was one of the few things keeping her alive, and she intended to stay that way.
While preparing a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a car pulled into the driveway, and the engine cut off.
She knew who it probably was, but she was still wary.
Peeking out the kitchen window, she saw KC climb out of a shiny, black Dodge Charger.
The car fit the man—sleek, dark, and sexy.
A few moments later, as she was pouring a glass of milk, she was startled when the back door suddenly opened and KC walked in.
The man walked so softly that she had never heard him come up the steps to the deck.
Moving over to the table with her lunch, she sat down, trying hard not to look distressed, as he entered the kitchen.
“Hi.” She figured, at least, she could try to be nice, even though she was asking him to leave. “Did you get everything straightened out with your uncle?”
“Yeah, well, about that . . .” He paused, looking everywhere but at her.
Uh-oh. This doesn’t sound good.
“It appears I have nowhere else to go at the moment. Everyone’s sofas are either already taken or out of service.”
“But . . . but you can’t stay here,” Moriah stammered, beginning to feel like a broken record. There was absolutely no way she could let him stay with her—only if hell froze over.
Holding his hands out to the side, he gave her a pleading expression.
“Look, I know you didn’t plan on having a roommate, but I’m only here for a few weeks, and then I’m gone.
Back to work. I’ll stay out of your way and give you money for the utilities and food.
” He kept talking as Moriah stood, shaking her head.
“I promise I’ll clean up after myself, and you won’t even know I’m here. ”
She almost laughed in his face. There was no way she couldn’t, and wouldn’t, know he was there.
All sexy, six foot five, 220 pounds of him.
All solid muscle. Top it off with hair she was dying to touch and smoldering eyes that seemed to see straight through to her soul every time he looked at her.
No, she would definitely know he was there.
“I can even help you out.”
At that, Moriah stopped shaking her head and eyed him curiously. She nibbled on her bottom lip briefly, wondering what he was talking about. “How?”
A devilish grin spread across his handsome face as if he knew he’d found a chink in her armored resolve. “Uncle Dan told me about your ex and how you’re running away from him. The gun is good to have for protection, but if you get caught without it, how do you plan on defending yourself?”
He did have a point as much as she hated to admit it. Without that gun, she was helpless. “I hadn’t really thought of that.”
He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Do you know how to shoot that thing, anyway? You were holding it right, but it didn’t look natural in your hands.”
“A gun is supposed to look natural?” She let out a very unladylike snort. “That sounds like an oxymoron.”
The corner of KC’s mouth twitched in amusement.
“If you know what you’re doing and practice enough, it becomes natural after a while.
I can give you a few lessons and show you some self-defense moves in exchange for the spare bedroom.
” He paused. “I also have a good ear if you care to talk about anything.”
Moriah stood silently for a minute, mulling over what he was offering.
She could actually use the training. If the people chasing her found her, she had no experience fighting for her life.
Hell must be having a blizzard warning because she straightened her shoulders and looked him right in the eyes.
“The ear I don’t need. The lessons I do.
You have a deal as long as you respect my privacy while you’re here. ”
“Deal. If you want, we can start training right after you have lunch.”
Moriah nodded in agreement, but inside, she was wondering if she just made the second biggest mistake of her life.