Plunged (Heartbreaker Trades #1)

Chapter 1

He’s a Little Off

WINONA

WANH! WANH! WANH! WANH!

“Ugh, this phone!” It had taken me a full minute to find the awkwardly positioned valve on this ancient boiler. I couldn’t answer a call now.

WANH! WANH! WANH!

I gritted my teeth. “Me nerves is shot!”

I hadn’t lived in Newfoundland in over sixteen years. But that ringtone, in a creepy hundred-and-fifty-year-old basement boiler room? The old me was coming out in force.

Cher, second in command at Heartbreaker Plumbing—my all-women plumbing outfit in Quince Valley, Vermont—popped up from behind some pipes. She was working on the other side of the dimly lit, earth-and-mold-smelling room, and her deep brown cheeks were as flushed and filthy as mine.

But it was clear she was holding back a laugh. She loved it when I got Newfoundlandism-levels of annoyed. “You gonna get that or what, Winona?”

Cher knew the siren ringtone was reserved for calls that had already been sent to voicemail.But she was wrestling with a bitch of a pipe as stubborn as this boiler, and I'd made a rule about not stopping what you were doing when it would be unsafe or detrimental to the work.

“Not”—I grunted, working the wrench—“yet.”

WANH! WANH! WANH!

“Could be a gorgeous man!” Cher waggled her grime-streaked brow at me.

“Ha!” I readjusted once more. “Well, he’ll have to call back. We’re almost done.”

The siren finally ceased.

“You’re no fun, Win.” Cher dropped back down. “How am I supposed to live vicariously through you when you’re the least vicarious person I know?”

Cher was married to a lovely man and had a toddler. A cozy family with a sweet baby? I wanted to live vicariously through her.

“Some things just aren’t fair.” I wiped sweat from my eye with my bare shoulder.

Cher was right, though; I wasn’t a very exciting person.

But I’d been a responsible adult since the day I left my island.

Longer, really. I knew nothing else. Maybe I’d get around to finding my Prince Charming someday, but it wasn’t a top priority.

Also, I had big, important things happening in my life.

Things I’d engineered all by myself. Including this job.

Heartbreaker was handling all the plumbing at a massive renovation of the Rolling Hills resort.

It was the biggest contract we’d ever taken on.

It would also be my last as owner-operator. This was the priority.

I bit my lip as I worked, eyeing a cobweb strung from the side of the boiler all the way to the ancient cage light overhead. “You think the rumors are true?” I asked.

“About what?” Cher’s voice was muffled.

“The ghost!”

“Winona. Do you even need to ask?”

My neck prickled. “You’re supposed to say no.”

“Sorry,” my friend said, sounding a little clearer as I heard her shift positions. But she didn’t sound sorry at all. “This place is creepy as hell,” she admitted.

Normally, I had ovaries of steel. But the superstitious Newfoundlander part of me knew that if a ghost were going to hang out anywhere, it would be here.

I cranked the handle. The thing didn’t budge. But as I re-wrapped my hands around the wrench, a shadow passed across the boiler.

I let out a little yelp, nearly losing the tool.

“You okay, Win?” Cher grinned down at me. The shadow was her: she’d gotten up to get another tool.

“Dammit, Cher!” I reached out to whack her in the ankle with my free hand.

She laughed, skipping out of my way and heading back to the dark corner she’d been working in.

The boiler let out a low rumble, making Cher freeze and my stomach lurch. “Normal noises, Cher, you know that.”

This was just like when I’d be reading bedtime stories to my baby brothers when we first moved to Quince Valley, and something in our rickety old house shifted.

I was a pro at acting like everything was fine.

Things were fine now. Better than fine. Nothing like those days, when I kept looking over my shoulder even when we were supposedly out of danger.

“Anyway,” I said. “I don’t believe the stories. They’re ridiculous.” I’m not sure who I was trying to convince.

“Okay,” Cher said, bringing me back to the boiler room. “But what if the ghost is hot?”

This time, I was the one to laugh. “Cher.”

“Like one of those masked guys.”

I’d read the books Cher gave me. They were way darker than the romantasy and romcoms I normally read by the boatload. Though these days I was mostly consumed with research reading for my next venture.

“The ghost is supposed to be a woman,” I reminded her.

“A masked woman, then,” Cher said. She made a growling sound. Cher swung all the ways, or at least she had before she’d fallen in love and settled down.

I laughed once more. Bless my best friend.

“Okay,” I admitted. “Vyke could be okay. Or the Masked Marauder.” Several heroes she’d sent my way were absolutely sexy. Those books were the first I’d reach for on a lonely night when I was feeling a certain way. But I couldn’t understand how anyone could fall in love with such a walking red flag.

"Just okay?" she asked.

Again, a shadow flitted by. But when I snapped my face up, Cher wasn’t there.

The back of my neck tingled. I reminded myself I was used to working in dark, dank spaces. That’s what plumbers did. I just needed to get us out of this room. All I needed was one good twist of the—

WANH! WANH! WANH! WANH!

I actually screamed that time, my wrench clanging on the concrete floor. “Lord Tunderin’ Jaysus!”

Cher howled with laughter.

I scowled, sitting up and fumbling for my phone, which was somewhere in my coveralls. “Me nerves!” That only made her laugh harder.

I blew a curl of my platinum hair from my forehead and glared at Cher as I swiped the call open. “Heartbreaker Plumbing, you’ve reached Winona!”

I pointed fingers from my eyes to Cher’s, but didn’t glare too hard.

I couldn’t do this job without her. Plus, we looked after each other.

She’d spent all of last Saturday afternoon on my monthly root bleach, for example.

It didn’t cost a lot of money to look this cheap when you had a best friend who grew up in a hair salon.

Cher stuck her tongue out at me but grinned and bent back down to her pipe.

“Winona, about time!” a woman’s voice exclaimed from the other end of the line.

My shoulders relaxed. I hadn’t looked at the call display before answering, but was happy to hear the voice.

“Sarah, b’y, how you doing?” Sarah Cooper was our project manager, and a friend now too, just like Cher.

She never called me with ridiculous problems, just handled them like the boss she was.

“Better now that you’ve finally picked up. I have a job for you.”

“I know you do, darlin’. I’m workin’ on it right now.” I got up and strode around to the front of the rust-bucket boiler. Who I was not letting defeat me today, mark my words.

“I mean it, Winona, and this one’s important. Off-site. For a VIP.”

I tucked the phone between my ear and shoulder, tightening the bun that had fallen loose when I was lying on my back.

I moved over to the steps that led up to the door.

A couple of stories beyond, Sarah was very likely sitting in a gorgeous pantsuit in her lovely, cool office, her desk neatly stacked with her laptop and notebook and colored pens.

I sighed. “VIP, you say?” Across the room, Char rolled her eyes. VIP usually meant PITA: pain in the ass.

“Very,” Sarah said, “And… well, the specifics are a little strange. But I don’t know a plumber anywhere who can do a job as efficiently as you.”

I knew Sarah was buttering me up. She wasn’t wrong, though. I lived and breathed plumbing. I could pinpoint plumbing issues by hearing long before my scope verified the problem.

But why would she need to do that? She knew I’d do her favors anytime. “Who exactly is this person?”

“That’s the thing… I can’t exactly tell you. But…” she lowered her voice. “But it was Cassandra who asked me to get in touch with you. I’m not supposed to know it was her.”

Okay, this was definitely weird. Cassandra Kelly was the CEO of the hotel we were working on. She was also a friend, albeit a little newer, similar to Sarah.

“Sarah, why didn’t Cassandra ask me herself?”

She sighed. “Because… well, no one is supposed to know the client is there.” Her voice brightened. “But I can tell you it’s a gorgeous place, up in the Hills.”

Sarah clearly didn’t know me that well yet if she thought that would be a draw.

I hated the richie-rich neighborhood that crept up the sloping hills of Quince Valley.

It wasn’t just because I stood out like a sore thumb up there, either.

It reminded me too much of another time in my life.

A darker time. Sarah didn’t know that, of course. Nobody did, outside my brothers.

So yeah, it was a no. It was too weird, I hated the Hills, and I truly didn’t like leaving one job for another. I was a stickler for finishing what I started. “I’m sorry, Sarah. We’re just slammed down here. You know how it is. I could make a referral if you like?”

Sarah cleared her throat, and after some rustling—her getting up, I think—the soft click of her door closing sounded through the phone.

Despite my refusal, my interest piqued further. There was something more to this job.

“Okay, listen,” Sarah said, her voice low. “I was hoping you could do this as a personal favor to me, Winona.”

My frown deepened. “How’s that?”

“The property owner…” her voice went muffled, dropping to nearly a whisper. “Well, I’m not really supposed to say anything, but apparently he’s a little off. Also, he’s Cassandra’s future brother-in-law. Who no one’s supposed to know is here.”

That was a lot of slightly alarming statements all at once. I didn’t know Cassandra’s fiancé even had siblings, let alone any with issues.

“Off?” I asked.

“That’s the wrong word. He’s kind of a recluse.”

“Is he a criminal? A fugitive?”

“Not as far as I know.”

Damn. “Sarah, this is weird as hell.”

“You wouldn’t be in danger,” she quickly added. “Of course.” Then she hesitated. “I wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t important. Please, Winona?”

Suddenly, I understood. Sarah had told me when I first signed our subcontract that this was her first multi-million dollar job. She was totally competent, but the owner of her firm had kind of thrown her to the wolves. She was being told to get me on this job.

I knew what it was like to be tested. To have the standards twice as high on a job just because you were a woman.

I’d spent my whole professional life with men double-checking my work, unconvinced a fully qualified plumber could do a good job if they lacked a penis.

It was exactly why I was working on a plan to change all this for women in trades everywhere.

This was all very serendipitous, actually.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I wanted to say no. But I wouldn’t hang Sarah out to dry like that.

“Okay,” I said finally. “But only because it’s you.” I looked around the dank room, my eyes landing on Cher, who already looked pissed I was making my escape. “And because this basement is a nightmare.”

Cher planted her hands on her hips. “I’m not staying if you’re not.”

Sarah let out a relieved breath. “Oh, thank God, Winona! And Cher can come up here while you’re out.

I’ve got some plans to go over.” She obviously heard Cher griping.

She gave me the address and was about to say more when I heard a loud knocking on her end of the phone, followed by a man’s gruff voice.

Sarah’s boss, being demanding as usual.

“I’m on my way,” I said. One less thing for Sarah to worry about.

I ended the call, giving Cher the update. I would have sent her elsewhere in the building if Sarah hadn’t offered. Nothing could improve this place, not even a sexy ghost.

Still, as we closed the door behind us, a cool sense of dread cloaked me, making me a thousand times more anxious than I’d been in that absolutely haunted room.

A wealthy, possibly deranged man wasn’t just a pain. It had once been the real-life source of my nightmares.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?