Page 1 of Shades of You (Calypso Key #4)
Chapter One
Hunter
I hated cheating spouses. I gently closed the front door after the woman left, trying not to see how her shoulders drooped as I stared through the glass pane. But this was part of what I did—I provided the ugly truths wrapped in sterile manila folders. Truths about husbands who strayed, business partners who embezzled, or people who didn’t know when to stop. What the client did with the information I’d provided was now up to her.
After she backed out of the parking stall, I padded to the front picture window of KeyMark Security, my hands finding the back pockets of my black jeans. Outside, Main Street hummed with activity, a postcard of small-town Florida Keys charm come to life. Cheery hanging baskets swayed gently in the breeze, their bursts of color complementing the crisp, colorful paint of the shopfronts. My soon-to-be sister-in-law’s bakery, Sweet Dreams, lay across the street and a couple of buildings down. I hadn’t chosen this site for any particular reason—the location for my new business had simply been too good to pass up.
Two figures walked past, their laughter reaching me even through the glass. I recognized my former schoolmates, both guys I’d known once. Instinctively, I ducked away from sight, a shadow dressed in all black amidst the brightness of the day. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Here I was, trying to carve out a space on the most visible street in town, yet craving the anonymity I’d once taken for granted under the cloak of night and covert ops. Except that obscurity was a luxury I could no longer afford. Not if I was going to make this new venture work. And in order to do that, I needed to unpack.
I took in the large, open expanse of my new enterprise. KeyMark Security, the symbolic title I’d chosen for my business, was a simple mixture of both my last name and where I was setting up shop. And maybe a subtle reminder that I was still a Markham, regardless of all that had happened.
The space, with its cluster of metal desks and office in the corner, wasn’t just a workplace. This little slice of Dove Key was a clean slate. Taking a deep breath, I let the silence wrap around me, a comforting reminder that while some chapters closed with pain and desolation, others opened with promise.
The promise of home. And maybe if I was really reaching—of forgiveness.
I moved through the stillness of the open area to my office. Framed black-and-white beach scenes adorned the white walls. The prints were designed to instill a sense of peace, the ocean’s timeless rhythm captured in still life—a stark contrast to the turbulent lives that walked through my door. A thick catcher’s mitt was visible inside my gym bag, but I ignored it. That was an off-duty item .
I crossed the floor to unpack one of several cardboard boxes neatly lined up against the wall. Peeling back the flaps of a box, I found myself face to face with the clutter of transferring from one life to another—pens that had seen better days and a tangle of office supplies. As I methodically placed each item in its new home, my thoughts drifted to the dual purpose of my return. Though Dove Key held the promise of becoming home, it wasn’t quite the real thing. But I wasn’t sure I’d ever be a part of Calypso Key again. For now, providing security for my family’s Calypso Key Resort would have to be enough. And moving back would certainly bring on the unresolved whisper of another name. Brenna Coleridge. The name that had seen me through so many dark times.
I chose another box at random and opened it. My breath caught, and my body assumed the precise stillness that was second nature. I reached in and pulled out a framed photograph. Then light flickered off something else in the box, and my eye landed on the trophy I’d packed around for years.
The damn trophy.
I wasn’t ready to deal with that, though the frame in my hands didn’t fill me with euphoria either. I swallowed over a suddenly parched throat as I studied the photo. Two smiling boys stared back at me, young and oblivious to what the future would hold. Evan and me, arms slung over each other’s shoulders at a beach outing.
I traced the edge of the frame, the weight of our complicated relationship pressing down. Gently, I placed the picture inside a desk drawer, not ready to hang it on the wall. I’d kept it nearby all these years, but displaying it would be a symbol of our reconciliation. And we were a long way from that .
I dropped into my chair. My brother had every right to hate me, considering what I’d done to him. Evan was trying to reconcile, and so was I. So far, it had been a tentative, awkward reunion. Could he actually forgive me?
Even more importantly, did I deserve forgiveness?
As dusk fell, I stood and stretched, the toll of the day seeping into my bones. The office was quiet as I locked up, and outside, the hum of Main Street’s night was awakening. I headed for the staircase near the back of the large space.
Upstairs, my apartment welcomed me with the scent of fresh paint and the comfort of simplicity. The light-gray modern couch was sleek and inviting, but first things first. After kicking off my boots by the door, I padded across the new plush carpet. The modern, efficient kitchen lay at the other end of the open space.
I sprawled on the sofa, one arm bent behind my head as I flipped through channels. A day of grieving wives and unpacking had sapped me of the desire to do anything other than seek out the simple pleasure of an evening baseball game.
My phone chimed, an alert tone from my own security system app, and I picked it up. My sister, Stella’s, name flashed on the screen, indicating she’d entered her code to access my building. A thumbnail photo showed her ascending the stairs, and her arms were full of… something. That sparked a flicker of curiosity, enough to coax me into sitting up straight. I shut off the television.
Almost on cue, there was a knock at the door, promptly followed by the sound of it swinging open. Stella didn’t wait for an invitation or a beckoned entrance. She simply waltzed in like she owned the place. She was the embodiment of Markham traits—dark hair that danced in the ocean breeze, eyes like pools of aged bourbon, and a height that made her stand out in any crowd. Though her genes hadn’t gone as overboard in that department as mine had.
“Ever heard of waiting for someone to answer the door?” I mock-frowned at her. “For all you knew, I could’ve been lying here naked.”
She breezed toward me with that familiar athletic grace of hers, hair swinging as she laughed. “Please. With your security fetish, I bet you have a system rigged that warned you the second I made the decision to come over.” She shot me a teasing glance. “And don’t worry. I’d avert my eyes if you were in your, uh, unmentionables.”
“Sure you would.” I rolled my eyes, unable to suppress the smirk tugging at my lips. There was no denying the comfort that came with Stella’s presence—even if she was invading my personal space with the subtlety of a tropical storm.
The handles of a canvas bag draped over one of her arms, and I couldn’t make out what she held in the other. “I’m surprised you didn’t have your front door locked.”
I scowled at her. “I’m alone inside my own home with both exterior entrances armed. You’re the one invading.” I didn’t mention I was well equipped to handle any situation if that thumbnail had shown someone I didn’t want ascending my stairs.
Stella’s stride didn’t falter as she approached, her face alight with a mischievous smile that set off alarm bells in my head. Whatever she was up to, it spelled trouble. She reached me and, without missing a beat, deposited a small, wriggling black bundle right onto my lap.
“It’s your lucky day,” she chirped, barely containing her excitement before continuing past me and toward the kitchen. The canvas bag she carried landed with a soft thud on the quartz counter, its contents a mystery.
“Stel, what the—” My words halted at the surprise she’d dropped on me. It was a tiny fluffball, but one equipped with an arsenal. Miniature daggers sank into my thighs through the fabric of my black jeans, eliciting an involuntary hiss from me. The creature looked up, its bright green eyes meeting mine, and let out a plaintive meow that was somehow both demanding and endearing. “What is this thing?”
Stella’s laughter floated from the kitchen. “It’s a kitten, Einstein.”
“Never would’ve guessed,” I shot back, frowning as it began to knead my leg in earnest, those tiny daggers a rhythmic torture. The damn thing had the sort of face that could make a guy forget he was supposed to be tough. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
“It happens to be a him,” she replied, a playful lilt in her voice. “I picked the black one because it matches your wardrobe. You two will match for those stealthy midnight snacks, though I drew the line at tattooing him. Meet your new roommate.” There was a teasing glint in her eye as she leaned one hip against the counter.
“Stella, you can’t be serious!” Ignoring her remark about my tattoos, I peered down at the little animal that had made itself comfortable on my lap. The kitten’s short black coat blended in with my black jeans and its four white paws—socks, Stella would call them—moved with its rhythmic motions. Despite myself, I gently lifted the kitten and inspected its front paws. Sure enough, each paw boasted an extra toe. “A Hemingway cat? Really?”
“Really.” After padding across the room, she stopped before me and folded her arms in satisfaction. “You’re a Markham, Hunter. And every Markham needs one of our legendary cats—even if they’re living off the Key.”
I’d completely forgotten that Pilar, the current resident Hemingway cat at the Big House of Calypso Key, had given birth to a litter. Rolling my eyes, I set the kitten down on the couch beside me. He quickly scrambled back onto my lap. “And what makes you think I need this thing?”
“Because it’s time you settled into more than just this apartment.” Stella’s voice softened, her determination to play big sister evident in her stance. “Having something to care for can change a person. It’s good for the soul. His name is Pedro.”
“Pedro?” I echoed, unable to suppress the twitch of my lips. “ The Sun Also Rises , huh?”
Stella gave me a deliberate nod. “See? It’s fate. You’re the only person I know who would get that Hemingway reference right away. The book is about starting fresh and finding your place. And now you’ve got a kitten named after a character. Seems fitting, don’t you think?”
“All our cats have the names of Hemingway characters.”
Our. Such a small word.
And yet one I wasn’t sure I could use yet.
I sighed at the small creature purring contentedly on my thighs. My skeptical gaze met Stella’s unwavering one, and I knew resistance was futile. “Fine,” I relented, scratching behind the kitten’s ears and eliciting a louder purr. “But if he starts using my favorite boots as a scratching post, I’m giving him back.”
“He’d never do that.” Then her smug smile fell, her face becoming serious. “But he’ll always have a home on Calypso Key. Just like you do. ”
I concentrated on Pedro, breathing through a sudden swell of emotion that had come from nowhere.
Stella seemed to realize I needed a moment and crossed the room back to the open kitchen. She returned carrying the canvas bag, and her smile reappeared as she handed it to me. Shiny food and water bowls, along with a small bag of dry cat food, were nestled inside. “He’s going to need to eat, and I figured you wouldn’t have anything suitable.”
“Gee, you think?” I grumbled, peeking at the feline treasure she had brought. The kitten, meanwhile, seemed quite content making himself at home on me.
“Wait here,” Stella said with a grin that meant more surprises were in store. She opened my front door and disappeared briefly, then reemerged with a brand-new litter box and a box of litter. “Can’t forget this!”
“Well, aren’t you helpful,” I deadpanned, but secretly, her thoughtfulness touched me. It was just like Stella to make sure every detail was accounted for.
After patting the litter box, she straightened. “Hey, you ready for our game? The Marathon Marlins aren’t pushovers, you know.”
“Yeah, I’ll be there.”
“Good. We need your big muscles for some serious slugging.” She flexed an arm in imitation of me at bat. “If only we had a better pitcher than Gabe…”
I snapped my gaze up to meet hers. A silent understanding flickered between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts about Evan still refusing to step into the role he was made for. The role I had ended permanently. We held the look for a heartbeat too long before each of us averted our gazes. “Gabe’s a great pitcher, and we’ve won our first three games.”
“I know. He’s just been grumbling that he’s too old to play anymore.”
I snorted. “Give me a break. He’s all of thirty-seven.” Gabe was the eldest of our siblings, with Stella next. At thirty-two, Evan was less than a year older than me, partly why we’d been inseparable growing up.
She panned her gaze around my mostly unpacked living room, pausing at my fully stocked bookshelf. “It might have taken a few months to iron out the details, but here you are!”
I’d found my building with its second-floor apartment several months ago. Such a perfect location was worth waiting for the tenant’s lease to end before opening KeyMark. Now it was mid-January, and we were in full swing.
“Here I am. So how’s Aiden?”
Her eyes lit up like bioluminescent waves at night. “Fantastic! When we were at the farmer’s market last weekend, he got me another orchid. A gorgeous bicolor Cattleya.” Her tone shifted to the reverence usually reserved for sacred things.
“Sounds like a keeper. Aiden and the flower.” I smiled at her laugh. Aiden was good for her, and that meant he was all right by me. He was possibly the only thing Stella was more in love with than orchids or her position as top chef at the aptly named Orchid, our family resort’s fine dining restaurant.
There was that our again.
As I tried to get used to the new weight on my legs, she wandered over to a security system box I’d casually tossed on a side table. I could practically see her thoughts change as her smirk faded. A series of thefts the previous summer had made our family realize they needed a closer eye on the resort, which had brought me back.
“I saw Myles last night,” she said. “He was like a shadow. There but barely noticeable.”
“Of course. That’s the plan,” I replied, pride swelling within me for the team I’d put together at KeyMark. “Garrett and Myles are trading off seven-night shifts while I work days here to get the business off the ground. We’ll keep everything locked down tight.” Garret Decker, Myles Howard, and I went way back—all the way to the Marines.
“Dad is very happy to have you handling security,” she said. “We’re all glad you’re back.”
I tried to take that at face value, and to ignore that Evan most definitely had mixed feelings about my return. Then Pedro shifted, returning my attention to him. My fingers hovered over his back. Pedro’s fur was as black as the ocean at midnight, and when I finally let my hand brush against him, the kitten gazed up at me with those bright green eyes. “How old is he?”
“Eight weeks. Pilar had seven kittens and we’re keeping two. You should be honored—I think Pedro is the pick of the litter.”
“I already said I’d keep him,” I griped.
“He’ll be good for you. And you for him too. I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.”
Depositing the kitten on the couch, I pushed to my feet. Stella wrapped her arms around me in a spontaneous hug that squeezed the reluctance right out of me.
“I love you.”
“Thanks, Stel. Love you too.”
She pulled away, and the corners of my mouth twitched upward despite the weight of her words. After shooting me one last knowing look, she sauntered out and left me alone with Pedro. Once the door clicked shut behind her, I sighed and glanced down at my unexpected charge. He was already curling up, prepared to nap as though he belonged here. Shaking my head, I went about setting up his new world. The food and water bowls clinked together as I placed them on the floor near the fridge and filled them. The kitten was so tiny, I was worried he might hurt himself jumping off the couch, so I picked him up and set him on the floor. Pedro stretched lazily before ambling over to inspect his provisions.
“Welcome to bachelor life,” I told him as he sniffed at his meal, then began to eat.
I found a spot for his litter box in the laundry room, tucked neatly out of sight but easily accessible. Left alone with my thoughts, I settled onto the couch, not bothering to turn the TV back on. After a while, Pedro hopped up beside me, dispelling my concern about his physical prowess. His presence was a warm weight as he settled next to my leg. And though part of me was pissed as hell at Stella for doing this, I knew one thing. I might not get overly attached to my new charge, but I was going to take care of him.
I didn’t know if I’d ever fully embrace the Markham traditions or if I’d forever be the black sheep. My gaze drifted to the window. In the distance, just beyond the reach of Dove Key’s quaint charm, lay Calypso Key. Silhouetted against the twilight sky, it was my true home, and yet somewhere I wasn’t comfortable being yet. I didn’t belong. This small town, with its salty air and tight-knit community, was supposed to be a fresh start. Yet everywhere I looked lay the ghosts of my past—and not just Evan.
The past also included Brenna Coleridge.
She had known me before I became the guy with a dark, shadowed reputation. In high school, we’d been friends, bonding over our love of books. I’d been a gangly, shy tower of a teen, too scared to let her know how I felt about her. But she’d never left my thoughts in the decade-plus since. Dark, black years that she had provided light in, whether she knew it or not. And now? I had no idea who she was. And she sure as hell didn’t know me.
It was ironic how, after all my narrow escapes as a Marine, the thought of her this close was what unraveled me. I had to smile at the absurdity.
Facing down insurgents? No problem.
Dodging IEDs and hollow-point bullets? Been there.
Yet the thought of talking to Brenna Coleridge made my stomach clench.
I could almost picture her caramel-colored hair reflecting the sun’s rays, her laughter mingling with the ocean breeze. But even our friendship had contained dangerous undercurrents—two families with long-held, simmering resentments. I had come back to make amends, but maybe I’d also come back for a second chance at the life I thought I’d lost.
I was an expert at surveilling others, distilling their lives down to evidence and reports. But when it came to facing my own need for redemption, I was as green as a rookie during spring training. The Markhams were a baseball family. Evan and I had grown up playing ball, dreaming of grand slams and perfect games. And it had been more than a dream for Evan.
Until I ruined it.
But Stella and our youngest sibling, Maia, had convinced me to play once again. Strictly recreational league, but I was part of a team again and able to feel the rush of camaraderie. And if I could face down fastballs and curveballs, I could surely navigate the complexities of a conversation with Brenna.
With one last look at the dark outline of Calypso Key, determination filled me. It was time to stop watching shades of a life lived from the shadows. Enough was enough. Maybe Pedro wasn’t the only thing I needed in my life.