Page 10 of Blue-Eyed Jacks (Destroyers MC: Skilletsville PA #1)

T he old fishing town hadn’t changed much.

Hank, the town manager, had less hair, but the same wobbly hand wave and toothy smile as strangers drove past. I leaned out the open window and sent him a low wave back, with a “Hey-ya, Hank,” to let him know I wasn’t an out-of-towner, despite the out-of-state plates.

Maybe he was just friendly or somehow remembered me, but he waved back strongly with recognition.

I turned right onto a pothole-filled road that cut across the center of the little island.

There was a lighthouse at the end of the two-and-a-half mile road, and if you turned south a mile before that, lay one of the most well-kept secrets I knew.

The fishing shack was formerly a home. In its time, it was likely filled to the brim with screaming kids, tired lobstermen, and frazzled mothers.

But now it sat empty most of the year, except for the rare tourist brave enough, or cheap enough to deal with the antique stove, leaky roof, and overflowing hodgepodge of Maine fishing memorabilia.

“Brace yourself,” I warned Kate, “it ain’t pretty. ”

I’d left the care of the property with the neighbor.

She was a cantankerous witch, who squatted on one of the best ocean views I’d ever seen.

There was a closer neighbor on this little dirt road, and he was the island’s version of police.

Not that he did much more than settle dock access squabbles or arrest the occasional drunk tourist. Because of that, he was also one of the few badge-wearing assholes I actually liked.

The door screeched on its hinges. The place smelled musty and kind of fishy. It looked much worse than I remembered. “Shit.”

“Who owns this?” Kate eyed the three-quarters of a century-old tongue-and-groove walls and the piles of yellowed magazines.

“Technically or legally?”

She shot me a look that was easy to interpret as, “I’m going to murder you, Jackson.”

“Technically, the island nature preserve. But legally? A corporation that maintains the upkeep of the buildings.” Not that it truly maintained anything.

It paid Crystal Dawn Hunnebaker a stipend to make sure the old shack didn’t fall down.

And Crystal Dawn didn’t do repairs. She bitched for more money every year.

Then, promptly spent that money on pot, not upkeep. I was thinking of firing her.

“Who owns the corporation?”

“Technically or legally?”

She threw up her hands. “I can’t with you!”

“Maybe after I work my tongue up your pussy again, you will?”

That earned me a glare.

“Aw come on, you liked it.” She did. You can’t fake moans like that.

Kate sighed. “If the corporation can be traced back to you, I’m fucked, and not like last night. It would be in ways I wouldn’t enjoy, okay?”

“It won’t be.”

This time, the sadness and the doubt in her eyes spoke to a much longer, more complex statement than was decipherable. But I felt it. Deep in my gut, I knew the fears she was trying to hide from me by obscuring it with anger.

And that was another thing. I wanted to dig deeper and find out more about her and the secrets she locked behind silent walls.

“How do you know it won’t be traced to you?”

“Because, technically, John Hardy, the local sheriff, owns the company, along with your new landlord down the road.” I pointed to the darkening trail downhill toward the cove. “John’s is that farmhouse next door. Crystal’s house is about seven hundred yards away.”

“Crystal?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Crystal Dawn. A former hooker Mom helped out. She’s a bit eccentric.”

“How?”

“She’s Wiccan and believes all sorts of stuff like the occult. In summer, she does local demonstrations, that sort of thing.” Last time I was here, I caught her dancing naked in the trees. Should I warn Kate about that? Naw. She’d find out sooner or later.

“That’s not eccentric.”

Wait until you meet her. I kept that to myself. “She smokes a lot of pot.”

That got her attention. “Who does she buy from?” Her posture stiffened, which was understandable. The Destroyers moved drugs. A lot of drugs.

“A local guy, he’s a lobster fisherman with a grow lab in his basement. He’s got a select clientele, John being one of them and Crystal being the other, so you’re good.”

“What’s the catch?” She motioned to the house.

I stared at the room. The old place was an eyesore inside and out.

“Keep the walls up. That’s all. There’s a fund for repairs, and Crystal gets a stipend for that, but I’ll work something out with John that it becomes rent, and her role is landlord or some shit.

” I snapped my fingers. “One catch, no major upgrades, additions, or renovations. The building is historic, believe it or not, and needs to comply with the historic preservation rules. That could get tricky and expensive.”

Kate scanned my face for lies. There weren’t any to be found, but she spent so long doing it that I wanted to squirm.

I continued so the silence would end. “There are jobs during tourist season. Most pay cash. Stockpile as much as you can during the summer months, and live frugally in winter. It’s the best I can do.

” I wanted to tack on “sorry” at the end, but refrained.

“It will be enough. Thank you.”

On the tip of my tongue were the words, “Don’t thank me until you’re safe,” but honestly?

This was the safest place I knew. John was a good man.

He looked after the residents here like they were family.

Hell, better than family. And Crystal? Despite the oddities, she was a friend.

One of the first women I fell in love with outside of my mother.

And in her day, she had been like a sister or an aunt to me when push came to shove.

Three people knew where she lit off to when her pimp almost killed her.

My father, who killed that asshole, my mother, who loved Crystal like a sister, and me.

Dad was dead. Mom was completely removed from my current life; and my role in Kate’s disappearance would get me killed, so there was no way I’d talk.

My biggest regret would be never seeing the place again.

I’d have to find another hidey hole to run to if the law ever caught up with me.

“Are you leaving tomorrow?” Kate asked.

“I should. I’ll introduce you to John and Crystal, then head out.”

The fear in her eyes grew.

“I swear by them. On my life.” Saying that made me doubt. What if John had changed? What if Crystal was crazier?

“We have one more night.” She picked at the stray threads popping up from the couch where it was worn through. Her head tilted as the devious and obvious flirtation flickered in that glance. But her cheeks flushed to a brilliant rose.

Oh . Sometimes I was a clueless son of a bitch.

She wasn’t afraid; she was… something else. “If I’m not mistaken, there are two beds upstairs.”

“We only need one.”

Thank-fucking-God . I motioned to the stairs, but stopped, remembering the quirks of the place. “Don’t drink the water out of the tap; it’s from a cistern, and flushing is a bit tricky.” I pointed to the bathroom under the stairs.

“That’s… rustic. Where’s the tub?”

Oh shit. “This way.” I motioned to the kitchen.

There was an old round barrel half in the kitchen with a hose that went from the sink to the tub.

Another hose ran out the bottom where there was a crude spigot that clamped the contraption shut.

The set up was simple. Turn the water heater on, wait two hours, fill the tub halfway, then uncoil the drain hose and run it out the back door when you were done.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

I was beginning to regret this. “You had more at that shelter, didn’t you?”

A scrunched expression of disgust flashed across her face. “At least I don’t have to share this. Right? I don’t have to share this, do I?”

“It’s all yours.” The sum extent of my wealth so far, except for the seed cash I’d dipped into hard for this trip.

She searched the room. There was a fairly new refrigerator, a freezer, a sink, the tub, and various shelves with all sorts of tins, containers, and cans. Then, her gaze landed on the stove. “Whoa, that’s old.”

“Really easy to use. Wood’s outside. Load up the bottom, here,” I pointed at the belly next to the oven drawers, “the heat goes up to the burner plates, or you open up the holes for higher heat. Smoke goes out the vent, and on this side, you can keep stuff warm or cook in the drawers.”

“How do you know what temperature it is?”

You didn’t. I shrugged. “Never used the oven. You might want to check for mice before you fire it up.”

“Mice?”

Something between a groan and a squeak escaped my throat. “That’s why everything stays in tins or sealed containers. Don’t leave anything out.”

Her hands went to her face and then she rubbed the tension from her jaw and moved farther back to linger on her nape.

“Let me.” I spun her until her back was to me, then worked the knots out of her shoulders. “I hope you realize I’m not rich. I can’t give you a mansion or much of anything at all.”

She stopped me by turning quickly and covering my mouth. “I don’t expect anything from you. You have been more than generous, and I don’t deserve it.”

It was my turn to cover her mouth and tell her she was absolutely wrong. “Wrong. What you didn’t deserve, you escaped two years ago. Now? I wish I could give you more.”

Kate lifted to her toes and pulled my face close to hers.

“Thank you.” Then her lips hit mine, and I forgot we were arguing.

The closest thing to it was the way our tongues tangled.

She made a noise that hummed in my mouth.

I turned us to the stairs that cut the building in half.

But in order to get up them, I had to break the kiss.

It was almost too difficult to do. I wanted to keep kissing her forever. But we were already at the unbuttoning stage, and I’d be damned if I took her on that filthy old couch. When I squeezed her ass hard, she gasped. I took that moment to break contact with her mouth. “Upstairs. Watch your head.”

She didn’t have to worry about hitting her head as much as I did. The sloped ceiling angled sharply at the end of the staircase. Walk more than one step on the landing and it entered the danger zone for me. Or was that the antique bed with barely room for both of us on it?

Kate took her shirt off as I shucked my jeans and dug out a condom.

The non-perishables in the car could wait; this couldn’t.

I had a deadline to meet, or else I’d expose the connection here.

Today, maybe tomorrow, I could indulge myself with her fair skin, the beauty of her sighs, and the soft way her smile filtered through her eyes after the pinnacle of ecstasy we somehow managed to reach together.

In that space, where breathing slowed and reality was an ambiguous thing, I found something I never had.

It scared me. Thrilled me. Devastated me.

This art we made was as fleeting as blowing on a dandelion puff.

One minute whole, and in the next breath, a wish or a dream.

And in its wake, the devastation of touching an intangible something that was flawless.

But I couldn’t stop picking up another one and whispering that desire into my heart. Holding my breath and letting the gust of passion flow in kisses and sweat. Puffing again and again, gripping the last dregs of that desperation until the seeds floated away.

I traced her skin. My soul ached to tell her how I felt. But my words would kill her. That, I vowed, would never happen.

“I’m going to do whatever it takes to keep you safe, Kate.”

Her eyes met mine. Hope lingered there. “Are you staying?”

No. “I can’t. Shock will notice. Right now, I’ve got an alibi. But I’m going to have to leave soon. And once I’m gone, I can’t come back. Ever.” I worried about her. “Are you going to be okay?” Without me. Will you recover from the loss? Or would I?

Her fingers tangled in my hair. And she stunned me. “Are you?” They tightened slightly to shake some sense into my foolishness.

Should I be honest? I’d been altered by her. The man I was a month ago, or two years ago, was not the same one I was in this bed. Going back to that life revolted me.

But it was the only way I could protect her, so I lied. “I’ll be just fine, babe.”