Chapter Five
“So, as usual, you know nothing about Ms. Maura Jennings. She’s just another needy person in a long line of needy people.”
KC slid a box onto the shelf, the cardboard scraping softly as it settled into place.
The air inside Malone’s Hardware carried the familiar mix of sawdust, metal, and paint, with a faint chemical bite from the aisles of solvents.
The old ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, stirring the warm air while the bell above the front door chimed now and then as customers came and went.
The closest big-box home-improvement store sat about fifteen miles away, but most folks didn’t bother with the drive. They came here instead—out of convenience, sure, but mostly because it was Dan’s. That kind of loyalty ran deep in a town like this.
Along one wall, racks of fishing gear hung neatly organized—rods, reels, and tackle—while a chest freezer near the back held bait for the early-morning anglers.
Behind the counter, photos covered the wall, corners worn and curling.
Locals grinned out from the frames, holding up their best catches.
A few of those pictures featured KC and his brothers, younger, sunburned, and standing shoulder to shoulder with Dan.
“Nothing wrong with being needy—everyone can use a helping hand at some point in their life.” The older man sliced open another box of latex paint with the box cutter he never left home without. “I just know she’s in some sort of trouble and needs help. What else is there to know?”
KC raised an eyebrow at Dan but kept working. “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 pulled the trigger and shot 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 house at two in the morning.”
“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 loudly as he slapped his oldest nephew on the back.
The two 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 there after school, would break the boxes down later for recycling.
By the front door, Jinx lay on his back in a sunbeam, snoring with all four paws in the air. KC crouched to give him a quick belly rub, then straightened. “Useless mutt.”
His uncle began to restock a rack of batteries on the counter. “Jinx would resent that if he were 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?”
He cocked his head to the side. “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.”
He knew better than to deny it further—of course, he’d noticed. After all, he was a healthy, heterosexual male, and Maura wasn’t just a looker—she was downright gorgeous.
After he’d closed his bedroom door last night, he’d been hard as granite—and it sure as hell hadn’t been from the adrenaline of having a gun pointed at him.
It had everything to do with her—the glimpse of long legs beneath that oversized T-shirt she’d apparently worn to bed, and the way the thin cotton had clung to her curves.
He’d tried to shove the image aside, but it stuck, lingering in his mind long after the house had gone quiet.
Too much skin. Too many questions about what the shirt hadn’t revealed.
She had beautiful auburn hair that 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 a stunning beauty from head to toe.
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. Heck, 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’d never sell it.
” There was a quiet, wistful note in his uncle’s voice.
“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. We painted every room ourselves after she spent hours picking out all 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 tell me to move something, or dust something, or fluff something, to be sure everything was perfect. ”
KC smiled. He’d heard the story countless times growing up, and it always made him wish he’d known his aunt.
She’d died long before the Malone brothers were born, but they’d been raised on stories of Aunt Annie.
Over the years, he’d come to understand that a piece of his uncle had been buried with her.
“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 wouldn’t meet his eyes, KC’s suspicions ticked up.
“Well, you see... Jinx kind of ate something that 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.”
Frowning, 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.”
“Wonderful. Great. What am I supposed to do now?” KC planted his hands on his hips. He wasn’t driving back to Little Creek to spend his leave on base, and Sean was all the way in Florida. He had friends in Whisper, but none he wanted to impose on for a month.
“There’s a perfectly good bed back at the house.”
Dan dipped his chin and pretended to read a few invoices to hide his smile, but KC still noticed it anyway.
What the hell 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 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.”
A grunt came from deep in his chest. “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.”
His uncle chuckled. “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, pasted on an unnatural smile, and flashed the older man his middle finger.
Moriah scanned the deserted beach in both directions before stepping down from the elevated deck to the patio.
Early May kept the shoreline quiet—too cool for sunbathers and swimmers.
Kids were still in school, and tourist season was another week or two away.
Over the weekend, a few body surfers had braved the water, and scattered walkers and joggers had passed by, but today was a workday. The beach lay empty.
She checked the driveway and the street. Nothing. No cars, no movement, no one watching.
Only then did she return to the patio.
Like most beach houses in the area, this one sat on stilts, high enough—along with the dunes—to avoid flooding during the worst storms over the past sixty years.
Ducking beneath it, she crab-crawled across the packed sand to one of the center supports and knelt.
The surface looked untouched since yesterday.
She dug until her fingers hit nylon, uncovering the black gym bag and dragging it partway free.
The zipper rasped loudly in the quiet as she opened it, the sound seeming too sharp, too loud for the stillness around her.
Inside, bundles of cash were stacked tight—almost a hundred thousand dollars.
Even now, she couldn’t wrap her head around that kind of money.
Money her family had been killed for. The reason she was on the run.
Her throat tightened. She blinked hard and reached in, pulling several hundred-dollar bills from one of the bundles. Enough for now.
After zipping the bag closed, she shoved it back into the hole and smoothed the sand until it looked undisturbed. No signs or reasons for anyone to look twice.
Stuffing the money into her back pocket, she crawled out from beneath the house and rose on the patio. Another sweep of the yard. Still nothing. Good.
She brushed the sand from her jeans and hands, then headed inside.
After lunch, she’d walk the seven blocks to Main Street and the general store. Just a few essentials—nothing that would slow her down when it was time to leave Whisper.
The cash wasn’t marked. It had to be clean. No way would drug dealers tag their own money.
It was the only thing keeping her alive. And she planned to keep it that way.
Back in the kitchen, as she spread peanut butter across a slice of bread, a car pulled into the driveway. The engine cut, and her hand stilled.
She knew who it probably was, but that didn’t mean she relaxed. Moving quietly to the window, she peeked out and watched KC climb from a shiny black Dodge Charger. The car fit him—sleek, dark, and a little dangerous.
A few moments later, she was pouring a glass of milk when the back door opened without warning. She jumped, her heart kicking hard, as he stepped inside.
How had she not heard him come up the back steps?
Grabbing her plate, she moved to the table and sat, forcing her shoulders to loosen, her expression to stay neutral—even as her pulse refused to cooperate.
“Hi.” She kept her tone polite. Controlled. “Did you get everything straightened out with your uncle?”
“Yeah, well… about that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze sliding everywhere but her face.
Uh-oh.
“It turns out I’ve got nowhere else to go right now. Every couch is either taken or off-limits.”
“But… you can’t stay here.” The words tumbled out, sharper than she intended. She pushed to her feet, shaking her head. “You just can’t.”
He lifted his hands, palms out, like he was approaching a skittish animal. “Look, I know this wasn’t part of your plan. But I’m only here a few weeks, then I’m gone. Back to work. I’ll stay out of your way, chip in for utilities, food—whatever you need.”
He kept talking as she continued to shake her head. “I’ll clean up after myself. You won’t even know I’m here.”
A laugh almost slipped out.
There was no way she wouldn’t know.
Six foot five. Two hundred-plus pounds of solid muscle. A presence that filled every inch of space he stepped into. Add in hair she had no business wanting to touch and eyes that saw far too much every time they landed on her…
No. She’d know.
“I can even help you out,” he added.
That stopped her.
Her head tilted, suspicion replacing outright refusal. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth for a second before releasing it. “How?”
A slow, devilish grin spread across his face—like he knew he’d found the crack in her resolve.
“Uncle Dan told me about your ex. About you running.” His voice softened, but there was steel underneath it. “The gun’s good to have. But if you don’t have it on you for some reason, how do you plan to defend 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.”
His eyes narrowed. “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 his 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.”
She went quiet for a moment, mulling over what he’d said.
She could use the training. If the people chasing her found her, she had no idea how to fight back.
Hell must’ve frozen over, because she squared her shoulders and met his gaze.
“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 wondered if she had just made the second-biggest mistake of her life.