Chapter Thirteen
Luna
My thoughts as I go upstairs are fragmented.
I have never lived in a log cabin before, but Tempest’s house is close to being one.
Wooden steps mount from the parked car to the porch platform.
There’s a front entrance, but if I follow the porch all the way around, it takes me to the side entrance.
That’s used in winter so that snow does not get trekked into the house.
It leads onto a mud room and then the kitchen.
That side door is always locked. I haven’t even gotten around to finding which one of the keys opens it.
The entrance hall has a narrow side table with a tray on it where I usually throw my keys. Opposite the table is a hat and coat rack. It makes me sad when I see Tempest’s gardening hats and raincoats hanging there.
One step further takes me to the sitting room.
On the side is the open kitchen area. And then the stairs go up to the bathroom on the landing, the bedroom, and Tempest’s cluttered hobby workroom.
I haven’t gone in there much because it also makes me sad.
How many of my aunt’s half-finished projects are scattered over the desk? I would not want to hazard a guess.
But I chose to put the bundle of mail in the hobby workroom all the same. I have a feeling that is where Tempest liked to run things from.
Moving to the massive desk after flicking on the overhead light, I pick up the bundle of mail.
Nothing stands out. All the handwriting is the same kind of neat print with the occasional printed sticker address thrown into the mix.
Bland white envelopes and stamps marked with the Angle Inlet postal service.
A deep voice interrupts my musings. “It’s not like Tempest to have left things in such a mess.”
“Argh! Jesus Christ!” I can’t help swearing. I did not hear Shadow come in.
So much for those creaking staircase steps giving me a warning. After nearly jumping out of my skin, I get mad. That's what fright does to me. “A heads up would be nice next time, for God’s sake! You scared me half out of my skin.”
Ignoring me, Shadow moves stealthily around the room. He makes sure not to touch anything. Only when he has inspected the scattered papers and piles of toppled files does he speak.
“What were the other rooms like when you arrived?” I can tell from the way he says it that Shadow is more than momentarily distracted. A small frown brings his dark brows together in a wide V-shape.
“Well, the realtor—Linda Farmer—got here first, so I’m not sure how my aunt left things… but everything seemed to be neat and tidy except this room.” Running one of my fingers along the shelf, I check the tip. “It’s not that dusty.”
The words come out before he can stop them. “Someone has been in here.”
I am not enjoying the way Shadow is prowling around the room. His nostrils are flaring as if whoever came in here left an unpleasant odor behind them.
I find it deeply unsettling how convinced he sounds when he tells me about the possibility of an unwelcome visitor.
He can’t be serious. “Do you know if Tempest had a boyfriend? Maybe he was pissed she never told him where she was going, and then he came here and did this.” Gesturing around the room, I wonder what any lover could hope to find amid these piles of papers.
“No one on the island was having a love affair with your aunt, Luna. And no mainlanders can visit the island again until spring.”
The way he says it makes it sound as if no one would dare.
There’s only one thing for it. Crouching on the floor, I begin to read one of the handwritten pages.
“Sanitize everything. Scrub until the surface shines on equipment and tools. Then use an alcohol-based sanitizer as well.”
I read the words out loud. “Sounds like Tempest was a bit of a germ freak.”
Picking up another fluttering page randomly, I read the first paragraph as I stand up, going closer to the middle of the room so the light is above me.
“Fill the kettle with filtered water up to the halfway point. Lower the bag into the kettle and steep the ingredients for half an hour. Boil the brew for eight hours.”
Shadow moves so quickly to stand next to me, I swear his body becomes a blur of speed. Call me easily distracted, but I can’t stop the shiver of delight as he leans over my shoulder to read the page.
Sliding my eyes sideways while I pretend to be looking down, I check out his lovely, big arm muscles.
The t-shirt fits him perfectly, draping in such a way to enhance the built pects and streamlined stomach six-pack.
I’m deeply attracted to the way the material stretches over his broad shoulders and back.
He’s so tall that when his hair falls over the left side of his face, I notice the way the ends of the strands have a slight curl. He’s got to be at least a good foot taller than me.
Shadow’s eyes glitter as I glance up at him.
“Fuck, yes!” Clenching his fist, he brings the elbow down in a fast pumping motion. “It’s the recipe!”
My heart plummets as all the knowledge I picked up about bikers from when my dad was a cop comes flooding back into my mind. Motorcycle clubs make money from selling drugs. Or dealing guns. Or both.
Please don’t let this be a recipe for cooking meth… But that would make so much sense.
The strange laboratory setup in the basement at the inn. The large amount of cash my aunt left to me. The break-in at Tempest’s house. And let’s not forget what Celia told me about the stranglehold of rules the Riders use to control the residents of Landslide…
I can hold back no longer. “Recipe for what exactly? And I don’t care what sort of a system you have going on here, Shadow, because I know my legal duty. If you had a deal with my aunt to cook meth for your club—”
His laughter shuts me up, but it also reassures me. This man seems to think that I have cracked the best joke.
“Landslide is a drug-free zone, Luna.” Draping his heavy arm over my shoulders, Shadow takes me over to the filing cabinet and opens the drawers. I can see from the way the drawers slide out that the lock at the top of the filing cabinet has been broken.
The source of the scattered files and papers becomes clear; the cabinet is empty. Someone must have sneaked in here, God only knows when, and tossed the place looking for something. That open door when I came back home is starting to make ominous sense.
As we begin to pack the paperwork back into the drawers, Shadow explains.
“It’s time I was frank with you, sweetheart. Your aunt Tempest was a highly skilled brewmaster. Or whatever the female equivalent of that word is. Brew mistress?”
“I don’t give a crap about descriptive pronouns, Shadow. That’s one part of city life I am happy to leave behind.” I’ll admit, I’m pissed. It must be close to one in the morning, and here I am doing bloody housework.
Why did I have to go and throw my toys out of the cot just because Shadow said he felt possessive over me? He could be kneeling on the floor right now with his face buried between my thighs if I hadn’t overreacted the way I did.
My pussy contracts with excitement as I think about his mouth sucking the hood of my clit. He is definitely the sort of man who forces a woman to have sex constantly on the brain.
Shooting me a cocky grin as if he can read my thoughts, Shadow continues.
“Tempest created a drink like no other. She kept the recipe secret, of course. It was the key to her success, a success that she was happy to share with the club.”
Straightening my back and tucking a ticklish strand of hair behind my ear, I need clarification.
“Let me get this straight. You and my Aunt Tempest brewed a spectacular tasting hooch together, and that’s how you made your money?”
Butting a thick pile of papers into a neat stack by banging them on the surface of the desk, Shadow nods.
“Yep, kinda.” After carefully putting the sheaf of papers back in the filing cabinet, Shadow whistles and shakes his head.
“I’m-a tell it to you straight, Luna. Without that recipe, the Midnight Riders are fucked.”
Now he has my attention!
Leaning back against the desk, I grip the edge with my hands. I’m thinking hard.
“Fucked as in no money? Or fucked as in disappointed?”
The way Shadow stares at me makes me wonder if he is debating how much to tell me about the Motorcycle Club and its business. His face looks craggy under the dim overhead lighting. I see a flash of Dante in there—ageless and beautiful—and then he moves, and the illusion is gone.
“Things have not always been so serene on Landslide, Luna. The best way I can describe it is being a bit like the Wild West.”
“Gun fights at noon?” I’m back to teasing him again.
“Folks died, yes.”
Okay, definitely nothing to joke about there!
Shadow continues, watching me closely from underneath his dark lashes.
“Tempest was determined to fix things. It was like an obsession with her.” Shadow shifts, as if he wants to test out if I’m ready to handle the information.
“Your aunt did something terrible when she was young… and she wanted to make it right. So, she concocted the recipe. And it worked. It worked better than what anyone could ever imagine. It put Landslide on the map.”
I have to disagree. “Actually, Landslide is not on the map, Shadow. Google does not even mention there’s a craft brewery here.”
Scoffing, Shadow moves to stand in front of me. Somehow, I feel as light as air when he puts his heavy arms around me. “This drink Tempest brewed, Luna, it’s better than beer. It’s more like a life-saving elixir.”
He pauses, as if he’s waiting for a loud drumroll to announce his next statement, but there’s no need. I already know what Shadow is going to say.
“And you want me to start making it again.”
His shoulders go up and down in a quick shrug. “Yeah, you could say that, darlin’. Although it would be completely underestimating the drink’s importance. Come, I’ll help you collect all the recipe pages. Let’s try and make some sense out of the instructions.”
Some things aren't adding up.
“Whoa, Mister. Hold your horses. Didn’t you just say some whacky thief broke in here to steal the recipe? So then, why did they leave all these papers behind?”
Shadow freezes in the middle of picking up printed sheets with pencil annotations scrawled in the margins. It’s like he refuses to allow my negative suggestion to pollute his hope.
“The sooner we collect the pages, the sooner we will know.”
I’m back to fuming over this stupid housework in the middle of the night, but at least it gives me the chance to ask more questions as we tidy up the room.
“What terrible thing did my aunt do?”
Shadow stops mid-pickup. He seems to be putting a lot of thought into how much he should tell me. Eventually, he seems to hit upon a diplomatic way of sharing some of Tempest’s story with me.
“Landslide has rules for a reason, Luna. Small place like this? Gotta keep it ticking over smoothly. Get grime in the gas tank, and boom! The engine grinds to a halt.”
Does he have any idea how cute he is when he uses machinery as an analogy? Just when I start to think Shadow is one of a kind, he goes and says something to make himself sound like a typical man.
Smiling to myself, I start laying out the papers on the desk. None of the pages are numbered, so I trying piecing sentences together instead.
“Did Tempest have an affair with one of the locals? Celia mentioned something to me about that being against the law here.”
Shadow grunts, which I am free to take as a “yes.” Ooh, now I’m really curious about who my aunt bumped boots with!
I need to take another look at the map Ben and Celia made for me.
Was it Mr. Farmer, Linda’s dad? Or maybe it was what's-his-name, Vince Pruitt down at the marina? I haven’t met him yet, but I think I will most definitely make a push to do so at the first chance I get.
Chuckling, I take a shot in the dark. “Please don’t tell me it was a cousin? Celia says that’s forbidden—but you know what they say about the forbidden fruit.”
The need to find out more about my aunt’s lover transcends my interest in sorting pages.
“Shadooow, tell me! Please.”
The overhead light flickers as the generator hiccups. It happens at exactly the same time as Shadow turns around. For that split second, he does not look human. That infinitesimal flash of darkness distorts his features.
He goes from being a big, broad-shouldered biker with tangled dark blond hair and ruggedly handsome looks into a hulking brutish phantasm in less than a blink of an eye.
Screaming with terror, my knees give way as I crash to the floor.