Page 9

NINE

GAbrIEL

Tuesday

“Needs some elbow grease,” Elton commented dryly.

Gabriel grunted his agreement; even he could see that his inheritance, The Golden Ticket scrawled across its bow, was in shambles. He’d felt a prick of excitement when Elton had turned into the Riddle Bay Marina. A boat was an asset, something he could possibly sell. Alternatively, it might be a place he could hide out on for a little while, just until the dust settled.

Not this fucking boat. The hope of a quick cash cow or cozy bolt-hole disintegrated at the sight of the thing. He wondered if it was even seaworthy. Gabe didn’t know much about boats; his experience came from living in the Pacific Northwest and watching them from ferries or the shore.

The rain and wind picked up again. Except for where his jacket protected him, Gabe was close to soaking. Elton was so bundled up in winter weather gear that Gabe could only see the tip of his nose and one of those almost sentient eyebrows .

Not to sound ungrateful, Mom, but what the fuck?

The coat Elton wore appeared to lift upward of its own accord and then lower back down. Gabriel shivered in his parka, bracing himself against the cold November wind. He was officially fucking freezing his ass off, the headache from the earlier encounter with Calvin and Dwayne lingered, and the gash on his thigh twinged. He was falling apart.

What work would he need to do to make the boat livable? Just a roof over his head would be nice right now. For a pleasant minute or so, he’d thought that Elton was leading him to the well-maintained vessel at the end of the pier. He’d briefly imagined sunny days reading his book on the deck, waving to other locals.

Nope.

Although the Ticket wasn’t the boat in the worst shape; that award went to one tied up a little further along.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

Hadn’t MacGyver lived on a sailboat for one season? Gabriel needed to channel his inner MacGyver.

One thing the boat had going for it was that it had even less of a legal connection to him than the Honda. The Golden Ticket was not licensed under his mother’s name, Elton informed him. The chances that the Anderson brothers and their Colavito protectors would connect him to an all-but-sinking sailboat were low.

“It looks worse than it is.” Elton was probably trying to sound reassuring.

“It’s just…” He stopped. Self-pity would achieve nothing and change nothing. In general, he was an optimist, but this glass wasn’t even half full. The water had long ago evaporated.

Gabe eyed the sailboat again. Looking closer, he could see that the boat’s name had actually been artfully painted by hand along the bow in metallic gold paint. There was probably something else good about it too. Maybe if it hadn’t been raining and forty-three degrees outside, he might have been able to appreciate the boat’s charms a bit more.

In search of warmth, Gabriel shoved his bone-cold fingers deeper into the pockets of his jacket and squinted hard through the sheet of gray drizzle. Beside him, Elton remained silent. Gabriel figured he had a lot of practice at it.

“What are the chances of me being able to live here?” Gabe finally asked.

Elton glanced up at him, his expression skeptical. He didn’t know if it was directed at the sailboat or Gabe.

Future. Reinventing himself. One last time.

“I checked the inside this past summer, and it’s not that bad. Like I said, it just needs a little TLC,” Elton said. “This isn’t generally the time of year for a restoration project like this, but you can make it somewhat comfortable. Eventually, you’ll need to update a few things and get squared up with the marina’s board.”

Before setting out from Elton’s home, Gabriel had briefly explained that he was in need of a place to stay for a while. Not wanting to share his life story with a virtual stranger, he’d omitted a few details. He’d definitely left out the part about Peter and the Anderson brothers. And Calvin and Dwayne. More of a change of scenery situation than a running for his life deal. From the knowing gleam in Elton’s eye, Gabe doubted he’d fooled the old man. He’d known Heidi, after all.

Under his feet, the ancient wooden pier creaked and shifted, and the resulting groan echoed out over the bay. To Gabe’s uneducated eye, the dock was in need of emergency repairs as well. He didn’t think he was wrong about that, even if what he knew about boats and piers wouldn’t fill a sticky note. The extra small kind.

The pilings were encrusted with years’ worth of barnacles as well as other clingy and sharp sea creatures. At the far end, a pile of netting had been forgotten long ago and had subsequently tangled itself around several faded orange floats.

Damn.

Abandoning his inspection of the pier, Gabriel stared out across the tiny body of water. It was called Riddle Bay for reasons he didn’t yet know, but Elton would probably happily tell him. Gabriel instinctively liked the old man, but trust was still going to take a while. Even little old men could be con men—Gabe’s sweet, angelic-looking mother had taught him that.

On a bank across from the pier, towering fir and cedar trees stood shoulder to shoulder, their boughs tangled together, making it seem like they were holding hands.

Christ, Chance, quit trying to be poetic.

The gusting wind made the tops of the trees bend in their direction, almost as if the forest also wanted to hear what Elton had to say.

“Obviously, you shouldn’t stay aboard until it’s been cleaned up inside, but it’s doable. I’ve slept in worse places in my time.”

“So, it’s possible.” Gabriel just needed a bit more confirmation than “doable.”

“It won’t be comfortable. The cassette head doesn’t work, there’s no stove, and the electrical system is shot. It would just be a roof over your head.”

“A roof would be a good thing.”

A jaw-cracking yawn escaped Gabe. It had been a long twenty-four hours and, he noted grimly, it was starting to get dark already. Gabriel glared at the decrepit sailboat again. It didn’t look any better than it had forty seconds ago.

His inheritance. The Golden Ticket . If there was an afterlife, his mother was there laughing her ass off. What had she gained from keeping its existence a secret? Gabe had no idea.

“This is beyond fucked up.”

Elton kept his opinion to himself. Maybe he sensed Gabriel’s need to vent.

This… this shitty boat was his end game. If he wanted any kind of future, he was going to have to deal with it. Or at least do a good job faking it.

“Seriously fucked up.” Louder this time, Gabriel’s words echoed out over the water, bouncing off the bluffs on either side of the tiny port. Was it even a port?

“Too bad I quit drinking,” he muttered. “A shot of ten-year-old McClellan’s would be nice right about now.” And maybe take the edge off the ache in his thigh. But no, alcohol would be a bad choice. Worse than conning Bart and Paul Anderson out of buckets of money.

Again, Elton didn’t respond. Maybe he was done with the Elton Cox version of a pep talk. He seemed oblivious to Gabriel’s crisis, instead choosing to stare at the boat. What was the older man thinking? Perhaps he was giving Gabe space to shout into the void.

“The void can’t handle me today,” Gabriel said, pushing away thoughts of amber liquid poured over ice with a lemon twist perched on the rim of the glass. In the past, Gabriel would have called it a day and headed to the closest bar. But his drinking days were behind him, and he was keeping to that. Too many lost hours, sometimes days. A new life and all that.

“It’s going to be a bitch to clean up,” Elton said, breaking his silence. “No doubt about that.”

Gabriel turned toward the gravelly voice. “Ya think?”

Elton blithely stared back at him. Gabriel had been around the block once or twice and wasn’t fooled by the older man’s innocent expression.

“I used to do a lot of this kind of work too, but these old bones don’t let me anymore,” Elton said with a shrug. “There’s a place in Westfort that will clean the hull. In the spring. But you’d have to get it there.”

Westfort was the closest large town. Gabe had seen a couple of highway signs indicating it was just twenty miles from Heartstone.

“And pay for it.” It wasn’t that Gabe didn’t have money. He did. But his emergency accounts were hard to access for the very reason that they were for emergencies only. His go-bag of cash needed to last as long as possible. If the Colavitos decided to monitor his accounts—and they would, dammit—Gabe wasn’t going to lead them right to him. For Christ’s sake, he felt exposed just standing out on this anonymous dock.

“And pay for it,” Elton repeated with a nod. Elton may have looked like a sucker but he was sharp as a fillet knife. Maybe sharper.

Elton Cox was nobody’s fool. Which was probably why Heidi Karne had taken to him.

Gabriel released one last soft sigh. He was angry, furious with all of it. But he was too tired to unpack everything on his mind, and Elton didn’t deserve his ire. What he really wanted—aside from a drink that he knew he didn’t want—was a decent night’s sleep.

“You’re certain you don’t want to stay at my place?” Elton asked as if he’d been reading Gabriel’s thoughts.

Elton had offered his spare room, but Gabriel worried that, regardless of his efforts, he had been followed. It was best to be on his own until he was more certain. Maybe accepting would have been smarter, but he wasn’t going to, not today.

“No. Thanks for the offer though. Let’s get out of this fucking weather. I’ll walk you back to your truck.”

He’d crash for a night at the state park or at one of the boat launches he’d passed by that day. His back twinged at the thought of sleeping in the Honda again. But even if he hadn’t tossed his credit cards back in Seattle, he wasn’t paying to rent a room. No fucking way.

“Don’t need to worry about me, son. The bogeyman gave up a long time ago and my legs still work fine, I’m just a bit slow.”

“I’m going the same direction,” Gabriel pointed out. The last lingering shred of Gabe’s decency refused to let the old man walk back to his truck in the dark.

Elton didn’t offer another objection, but he did raise grumpy eyebrows. Together, they turned and trudged away from the pier toward Gabriel’s car and Elton’s old Ford pickup. The gate to the dock slammed shut behind them and Elton turned to tug on it, making sure it had locked.

Gabriel had followed Elton the few miles from his mobile home to the marina. The drive had taken them less than five minutes, and Gabe had spent the entirety of it not allowing his hopes to rise. Thank fuck too, because if he’d had more than the one, he might have seriously considered jumping into the cold waters of the bay.

Elton stopped by his truck and side-eyed him. “I wouldn’t recommend sleeping on the Ticket until you’ve cleaned it up some. Can’t guarantee there’s no water inside. Saw a bit of mold the last time I was on board.” Elton dug into a pocket and brought out a silver chain with a tarnished key dangling from it. “But here’s the key to the gate. You’ll need to have a copy made for yourself.”

Gabriel held his hand out and Elton dropped the key onto his palm. Closing his fingers around the metal, Gabe carefully tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket. “Thanks.”

Could the day be any more miserable? Gabriel shouldn’t be testing his so-called luck by thinking the question.

On the drive to the marina, they’d passed a couple of signs directing visitors to a state park located on the island. There’d been a tent icon on one of them and a Closed For The Season notice, too.

Bah. Rules were meant to be broken.

Who would care if he crashed there for a night? No one, that’s who. The later the day got, the colder the temperatures dropped, and he was anxious to be somewhere protected and possibly warm. The rain that had started up again a few hours ago showed no intention of stopping.

“Could know someone who’d be willing to help you out with the cleaning,” Elton mentioned. “Likes boats and stuff, and he’s always looking for extra work. Had a bit of bad luck recently, might keep him out of trouble.” Those last words seemed to be an afterthought.

“It’s fine,” Gabriel said dismissively. He didn’t need some stranger hanging around, an eyewitness to the fact he had no idea what he was doing. Elton was enough of a stranger.

Elton shot him a skeptical look but didn’t argue. He unlocked his truck and climbed inside. The old man could barely see over the steering wheel as far as Gabe could tell.

Gabe popped the Honda’s trunk and began rearranging the few boxes inside while he waited for Elton to shut his door and leave. The man just sat and watched while Gabe came around the side of the Honda and grabbed one of his duffel bags from the back seat.

“I’ve got some cleaning supplies you can use. You’re going to need them,” Elton finally said. Gabe could tell he wanted to say more but was holding his tongue.

Gabriel looked up at the man whom his mother had possibly considered a friend. Or at least someone she’d trusted, which was even weirder for Heidi Karne. “Thanks for the offer, Elton. I’ll stop over tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll have coffee on. You know where to find me,” he said. Pulling the truck’s door shut with a bang, Elton raised one hand in a casual farewell. The engine rumbled and Elton backed out of the parking lot, pointing his truck back down the road they’d come in on.

Gabe set his go-bag back on the back seat. The fucking bags weren’t going to fit in the trunk, and he’d known that before screwing around with the boxes that had already been in there. He was fairly sure Elton knew it too. Elton was right, there was no way he could sleep on The Golden Ticket . Not until there was less chance of him freezing to death in his sleep. Or catching hantavirus. Gabriel was desperate, but he wasn’t going to risk his actual life.

“Camping it is.”

With his groceries on the passenger seat and the prospect of a cold hand pie for dinner, Gabriel slipped behind the wheel.

“I just need to think of this as an adventure.”

Why hadn’t he just kept driving south? Stayed on I-5 until he reached the border?

Curiosity killed the cat, Chance.