Chapter 1
JUNO
The stench of sweaty socks and other odors I didn’t want to identify permeated the air as I studied my reflection in the locker room mirror, inspecting each flaw, cataloging them to run on repeat tonight while tossing and turning in bed.
All the imperfect features in the mirror staring back at me were recognizable except for the light brown curls framing my full cheeks.
After several failed attempts to find someone in Anchor Bay who could continue to successfully highlight my natural brown locks to the brilliant blonde I was used to, I threw in the towel and dyed it back to my original color myself.
It wasn’t a bad dye job, but the brown wasn’t doing my fair complexion any favors. Which was why I went blonde years ago, hoping the lighter hair would help maximize my only striking feature—my large aqua eyes framed by naturally long dark lashes.
Or at least that was what that asshole ex of mine convinced me of.
A boom of vibrating metal echoed through the locker room from a fist beating on the door from the other side.
“Let’s get to it, Juno,” came the deep voice of my self-defense trainer, Oliver. “I don’t have much time this morning. Hell of a lot going on in my day job.”
I snorted in agreement. That was an understatement. As our deputy sheriff, he was overwhelmed with everything going on in our small town, even with the LA detective that Brandon, the owner of the adventure and rescue company I worked for, had asked to come assist.
“Be right there,” I shouted back before returning my gaze to my reflection for one more critical pass.
Full round cheeks, a tiny, upturned nose, thin upper lip offset by a full lower one, wide forehead—ugh, is that a fucking wrinkle?
Hips pressed against the cracked sink, I leaned toward the mirror for a closer inspection.
A finger pressed on each brow, I pulled them apart, making the faint line disappear.
“Guess that’s what I get for being in the dreaded mid-thirties,” I grumbled. “Getting old sucks ass.”
My loose hair shifted side to side with a disapproving headshake as I turned from my reflection that reminded me I wasn’t and never would be enough. Careful not to snag the wild curls, I pulled the unruly strands into a high bun and secured it with a tie on top of my head.
Passing the single bench in the middle of the row of lockers, I grabbed my gloves and bag, not wanting the clothes inside to absorb the stink, and shoved open the door, eager to escape the stagnant stench of sweaty men.
Out in the main area, Oliver glanced up from his phone where he stood by the mats, giving me a quick assessing once-over before tossing the device onto the top of his training bag along the wall.
“You’re seriously wearing that to spar today?
” With a furrowed brow, he gestured to my hot pink biker shorts and matching top.
The punch of insecurity his comment delivered to my fragile ego must have registered on my face, because a panicked expression overtook his.
“Not that you look bad. You look great. Sexy as fuck, actually. I just mean—” Oliver cut himself off and tipped his face to the ceiling.
“Are you trying to get me killed? If Langston walks in and sees us sparring with you wearing that, I’m a dead man. ”
Him mentioning that asshole cut off the voice in my head telling me my legs were too thick, too flabby, too… anything but gorgeous in the shorts I daringly purchased the last time I was in Anchorage. Forcing a smile, I waved off Oliver’s worry and began strapping on my gloves.
“First, you’re being overly dramatic, which is concerning for someone who’s our first line of defense in Anchor Bay. We need someone calm, not dramatic.”
The corners of his lips twitched upward. “The second line of defense, technically. I’m only the deputy sheriff, so my dad is the first.”
I grimaced. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Me neither,” Oliver grumbled while swiping the training pads off the floor. “And second?”
“Second, why the hell would Langston care about what I’m wearing if he comes in to work out today?”
Oliver paused what he was doing to shoot me an incredulous look that said I was the one being an idiot here.
Gloves on, I tossed both hands in the air in exasperation. “It’s obvious we can’t stand each other. Why does everyone here seem to think we’re faking the heated arguments—”
“Sexual tension,” he said around a fake cough.
“The death glares,” I added, narrowing my eyes at the back of his head.
“His way of saying he loves you,” Oliver countered like it was obvious.
“Or the way he critiques my every damn choice or move,” I snapped, putting both hands on my hips.
He turned with a sigh. “That’s the only way an overprotective, slightly obsessed asshole like Langston can show he cares.”
“Whatever,” I grumbled. “And third, I will wear what I want to wear, and you will say nothing about it. I swore to myself that I’d never allow a man to dictate what I can or can’t wear again. Or let someone’s opinions make me self-conscious about how I feel in clothes I believe I look good in—”
Two calloused palms settled on my shoulders and squeezed, pausing my rambling. With his lips pressed in a tight line, Oliver’s dark gaze scanned my face.
“Juno, who the fuck said that shit to you that you had to make a promise like that to yourself?”
Realizing I’d accidentally allowed a peek into my shitty past, I quickly sealed my lips shut to keep from divulging more.
“Juno Jones.”
With a huff, I gave him a dramatic eye roll and stepped out of his hold. “Drop it, Oliver. I’m wearing this no matter what you say. Now, are we training or what?”
He studied me as I distracted myself from the heavy conversation, stretching both arms overhead and leaning to one side, then the other.
“You know, when you came to me asking to learn basic self-defense moves, I thought it stemmed from the missing women cases. Now I’m wondering if that’s the actual reason or if you need to protect yourself from something or someone else. ”
I lifted both shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “Does that change your willingness to train me?”
“No.” He shook his head. “But please don’t take this training and kill some dumb fucker from your past who doesn’t know his dick from his ass. Because that’s what he is if he ever even hinted at you not being perfect no matter what you wear. Because you are, Juno.”
Unshed tears burned behind my eyes. If Oliver only knew half the degrading lies and comments that were flung my way at one time.
He was the type of man who would not only encourage me to seek Eric out to set him straight but would probably arm me with weapons too.
Which was why I hadn’t mentioned him or anything in my life pre–Anchor Bay to anyone.
Those shitty years and people needed to stay in my hometown of Banks, Alaska, where they belonged, allowing me the chance at a new life here.
I’d never heard of the quaint bay town where I ended up until I came across a job ad for a social media and scheduling coordinator posted by Uplift Adventure and Rescue Company.
Needing a quick exit from my old life—as in I packed up my shit and bolted without telling anyone—I accepted the job sight unseen and moved my meager possessions to Anchor Bay.
Little did I know it would be the best rash decision ever.
I not only got away from the emotional abuse, but it led me to meet an amazing group of people who quickly became the family and friends I’d never had but always wanted.
Being introduced to the poly community created by the owners of Uplift—Brandon, Amy, and Carl—was a shock at first, but now the thriving and happy throuple relationships seemed a lot more stable than traditional ones.
Everyone in the community was amazing, even the infuriating bastard Langston.
Though that was mostly because he was so attractive that I forgot how to breathe around him, if he didn’t open his mouth and remind me why I named him Captain Asshole after that first meeting.
He was well over six feet tall, with dark, almost black thick hair, a chiseled jaw, full sleeves, and jade-green eyes that I swear could see into your soul.
Which sucked because the man was annoying, rude, instigating, and, for some reason, hated me.
Why?
Hell if I knew. Since that first meeting when he picked me up in Anchorage after I was hired, the man had a cactus up his ass when it came to me. Other than him, and the female hikers and our friend Caroline going missing—oh, and the recent murder of a local—life was great now in my new home.
“Earth to Juno.”
I blinked and flinched at Oliver waving the practice mitts in front of my face.
With a huff, I batted them away and went back to stretching.
“By the way, while I love changing in a locker room with a urinal that was last cleaned in the sixties and metal lockers teeming with tetanus, when are you renovating this place?”
He spun in a slow circle, inspecting our surroundings with a grin. “What do you mean? It’s functional, right?”
The corners of my lips curled upward as I took in the mostly empty space.
Other than the new sparring mats and punching bags hanging from the ceiling, plus the ancient treadmill I was pretty sure he’d found while dumpster diving, it barely looked like an actual gym.
He never explained why he leased the dilapidated building six months ago, and maybe he never would.
We all had our secrets, and I, for one, was glad he never pried into mine, so I offered him the same courtesy.