I could feel my throat burning, but I swallowed again, forcing the burn to disappear. “So, uh, why did you need me here this morning?” I asked, changing the subject.

  She blew out a breath before a bubbly laugh came from her. “Okay, I hope you don’t think I’m crazy for saying this, but…I want to give you a job.”

  A job?

  I blinked. “A-a job?”

  The kind woman nodded. “Yes. A job. I don’t know what your plans are, but I wanted to be the first to offer one before everyone else in town finds out you’re here,” she explained with a laugh.

  I looked over the wall of books and then to the coffee counter, where Margo was loading up coffee beans. “I don’t—I don’t understand,” I whispered, looking back at Sarah. “You’ve already done so much for me, and you haven’t even known me for twenty-four hours.”

  The smile slowly faded from Sarah’s face, quickly replaced by pity.

  I didn’t want anyone’s pity, but in my situation, there wasn’t anything I could do but accept it. I wasn’t strong enough to refuse it. Hell, I didn’t even know how I would do that.

  I froze as Sarah came around the counter. Not even a second later, my hands were in hers as she held them up between us, our gazes locked. “Carrie?” she called softly.

  The burning was back, and so were the tears I thought I was done shedding. They didn’t spill over, though. I wouldn’t let them, not yet, not here in front of this angel I’d just met yesterday.

  “Yes?” My voice was almost non-existent as every emotion a human was capable of feeling clogged my throat, possessing me to remain frozen in place. I couldn’t move away from her even if I wanted to.

  “You landed in a soft spot, Carrie. It’s okay to stop fighting. I know it’s weird, I know it’s a whirlwind, and I know you’ve been running with your defenses up, but you’re safe here. Let me help you start your new chapter.”

  “Sarah—”

  She squeezed my hands. “Take the job. It doesn’t pay much, and its only part time, but it will give you something to do while you find yourself again.”

  My bottom lip trembled as the bell above the door jingled and a British accent filled my ears. “Did you hire her yet, darling?”

  Unexpectedly, a laugh bubbled up from me. The sound was so shocking, I didn’t believe it was real for a moment, but only a moment, because then, the laughter didn’t stop. Sarah joined me, her eyes shining with what could only be described as love.

  “I’ll take the job,” I declared once our laughter died.

  “Good,” she said before turning me around to face the man I’d met yesterday. “This is Rossy.”

  Rossy smiled, holding his hand out to me. “Very excited to meet you, my dear.”

  I shook his hand. “So you’re my boss?”

  The man threw his head back and laughed, the rich sound echoing against the books. “Heavens no. I leave all that nonsense to Sarah. I may be the owner, but I don’t run the damn thing.”

  My brows rose in surprise as he spun on his heel, leaving Sarah and I behind to head over to the coffee counter.

  “He’s a nut, but I love him,” Sarah whispered in my ear.

  He was, but in the best way. “What does he do?” I found myself asking.

  “Drinks coffee, hogs the window seats, reads novels. Oh, and he’ll get authors to come in for signings,” she told me as I turned to face her.

  “Author signings?”

  She nodded. “Its difficult since this is a small town and we’re a small store. Most publishers aren’t interested in sending their authors out here, but the independently published authors love coming. We have a signing next month.”

  “That sounds fun,” I murmured, more to myself than to her.

  “When you start on Monday, we can talk about it more,” Sarah said. “Now, I want you to take the weekend to explore the town. Go try Margie’s, walk the new boardwalk, go to the shops.”

  I looked around the bookstore, noticing it was busier than yesterday. “Are you sure you don’t want me to start today?” I asked.

  She shook her head, bagging more books. “Nope,” she replied popping the “p.”

  I nodded and looked down to my clothes: plain jeans and a T-shirt that was just a little too tight on me. I’d gained a lot of weight while in rehab, but I wasn’t mad. I’d grown comfortable with being…comfortable and not having to worry about what that stupid number on the scale said. I felt healthy for the first time in my life, and the hunger pains had finally ended.

  So, I really needed new clothes. “Is the General Store the only place to get clothes around here?” I asked, looking back up at her.

  She shook her head, lifting her arm to point out the big shop windows. “No, there’s a few boutiques down that way. The girls in there are really nice too. I shop at Pam’s all the time,” she boasted. My eyes dropped to her slender figure, silently wondering if the small boutiques would have anything in my size.

  I cleared my throat. “Do they have a…wide variety of sizes?” I asked softly.

  Sarah’s brows came together. “Of course they do. Why wouldn’t they?”

  Fat-phobia was the first thing that popped into my head, but I held my tongue. Instead, I thanked her, and we chatted about the house for a few more minutes before I moved on, grabbing a to-go latte from Margo and heading out into the late morning sun.

  Astoria was bustling with life this morning, and pots filled with pink and orange flowers lined the sidewalks. The street was filled with people of all ages walking, talking, and laughing. The buildings were beautiful, each one adding personality to the town, painted in a variety of colors. I saw a few signs for a couple of museums, then came across a sign detailing the history of the town.

  It was the oldest town in Oregon.

  “That’s pretty cool,” I mumbled to myself as clouds drifted in front of the sun. I looked up and decided that, even without the sun, this town was beautiful.

  The further down I got, I could smell the fish from the docks and could even see a few boats in between the buildings. I spotted Margie’s across the street from me, the back of the restaurant clearly having a beautiful view of the water, and I promised myself I’d stop in for lunch later. Continuing to sip my coffee, I strolled for a few more minutes until I saw a few boutiques. They were all nestled at the end of Marine Dr, two on each side of the street.

  Raising my chin, I mustered up every ounce of confidence I had—which wasn’t much—and went into the first boutique. As the door shut behind me, I was overwhelmed with the smell of citrus and vanilla. My eyes wandered over the racks of clothes in the middle of the floor, over to the wall of shoes and bags. I hadn’t been clothes shopping since I was a teenager and after high school, I didn’t get to pick what I wanted to wear. My outfits were chosen for me throughout most of my adulthood.

  How silly was that?

  Looking back on it now, after everything I’d been through, I begun to realize it wasn’t silly at all—it was a form of control.

  You’re free now, Carrie. Remember that.

  “Hi, welcome to Seaside Boutique,” a kind female voice said from my right.

  My head slowly turned towards the sound as I forced my eyes away from the pair of cherry red heeled sandals on the wall. A young woman stood behind the counter. She was curvy—like me and my heart sighed as I made my way towards her.

  “Hi, I’m Carrie,” I answered on a squeak.

  The woman’s eyes flashed. “You’re Sarah’s girl! She texted me that you might be popping in.” she exclaimed. “Hi, I’m Pam!”

  I blew out a breath, holding in the second round of laughter that threatened to spill out this morning. Sarah, the angel I didn’t know I needed. “Yes, I’m Sarah’s girl.”

  Pam came around the small baby pink counter, waving me closer. “Come in, come in.” As I made my way further into the store, she asked, “So what are we shopping for today?”

  “An entire new wardrobe,” I blurted.

  Her eyes widened. “Like…?”

  I nodded, feeling my ringlets bounce around my neck. “Everything.”

  A huge, bright smile stretched across her features, and she jumped up and down with glee. I flinched at her reaction, but she didn’t notice. “Oh my gosh! This is going to be so fun,” she breathed, grabbing my shoulders and steering me towards the back of the store as she began firing off questions about what I liked, what my style was, did I have a color palette I wanted to stick to…

  Once we were in front of the dressing rooms, I turned to her. “I don’t know. I’ve never…” I trailed off and looked at the wall, not wanting to cry in front of another stranger. “I recently got out of a bad situation,” I summed up, “and I gained weight.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Pam said softly.

  I met her eyes. “I know. I know that, but that’s not the problem.”

  She tilted her head to the side, patiently waiting.

  I sighed. “I don’t know who I am anymore,” I whispered, my throat thick.

  If I cried in public one more time…

  Pam smiled warmly. “And that’s okay too.”

  Then, she put her hands together and stepped back from me, her eyes scanning my figure. “Well, the first thing we need is to get you measured and I can already tell that you have more of a triangle body type, which is amazing for dresses. How do you feel about those?”

  “I like dresses,” I told her quietly.

  “We’re also going to do a color analysis on you, that okay?”

  “I’m up for anything as long as I walk out of here with new clothes,” I said.

  She chuckled. “Glad to hear it,” she replied as she clapped her hands. “Okay, let’s get started.”

  Four hours later, I walked out of Pam’s shop with more bags than I could handle, plus the biggest smile. After I got the bags into my car, I walked back down the street to Margie’s. There, I sat in a cozy corner booth overlooking the water and ordered a delicious lunch, finally having the freedom to actually enjoy food.

  Then, my perfect Saturday went to shit when I found a note taped to my red front door I loved so much.

  My hands trembled as the bags slid off my shoulders, falling to the porch with a plop. My body froze as the air in my lungs became trapped, my eyes scanning the note over and over.

  Chapter 7

  Grayson

  The blaring sound of my cell phone ringing made me want to shoot something, and I came close to doing so the fourth time it rang.

  “Son of a bitch,” I grumbled, rolling over and snatching it off the hotel nightstand. When my eyes landed on the caller’s name, I contemplated my career choices.

  Jake Murphy Calling.

  I put the device to my ear. “This better be good; it’s four in the damn morning,” I barked, sitting up on an elbow, my back aching from the workout I’d put myself through only hours before. I was a night owl, always had been, only going to sleep after midnight, sometimes later. I could survive on four to five hours of sleep. That was my normal, but anything less than that made me want to kill a son of a bitch.

  “You think I don’t know that?” Jake clipped. “Got a hit on Hale.”

  Suddenly, the amount of sleep I got tonight no longer mattered.

  I’d been in Portland for over a week, doing everything in my power to find this woman.

  She was smart, but I knew at some point, she would slip up.

  There was a certain level of skill you had to have to be in my line of work. My team and I were the best for a reason. This was a big country, with millions of people, thousands of cities to hide in, but eventually, I would find her. I’d been doing this for years and, like clockwork, I managed to track down all targets assigned to me within a week.

  Never once had my team failed.

  If we had, we wouldn’t be able to charge so fucking much.

  This week, for some reason, seemed longer than the last. I couldn’t pinpoint why, and it was reason number forty-seven thousand why I couldn’t wait to get this shit over with and put Carrie Hale behind me for good.

  When I’d landed in Portland, Jake updated me on how much money Hale was in possession of.

  A little over two million.

  He was able to hack into her hidden bank account and, aside from the few thousand dollars she’d taken out right when she arrived in Portland, there were no other charges to her account. Like I said, she was fucking smart for using cash majority of the time.

  “Talk to me,” I ordered, sitting up and flipping on the lamp.

  “She was pulled over a week ago. Basic traffic stop,” Jake explained.

  “A week ago?” I parroted. A whole fucking week?

  He grunted. “Outside of Astoria, Oregon. Guess those boys in blue are a little slow to put things in the system up there. She’s driving a used sedan recently purchased at a used car lot in Portland. From there, she drove up and got pulled over by a sheriff.”

  “Name,” I demanded, reaching for my laptop.

  “Sheriff Michael Humbly.”

  I didn’t respond and put his name into our system, pulling him up so I could see for myself.

  Michael Humbly, aged twenty-seven, married with two children, born and raised in Astoria.

  “I’ll let you know if I find anything else. There is a pending charge on her account, but I can’t see it yet,” Jake explained. “Whatever it is, it was a large amount of money.”

  “She’s settling down,” I murmured as I pulled up the town of Astoria.

  It was a coastal town just a short drive from my location. Small, but a good place to hide from your past.

  “Inform the guys. I’m heading out,” I told him before hanging up the phone.

  I stood, the laptop balancing on my forearm as I walked over to the small desk to set it down. I pulled on a pair of cargo’s and a black thermal before dialing my next call. Putting the phone on speaker, I checked my gun and loaded a bullet into the chamber as the phone rang.

  “Jones,” Jeremy greeted, not sounding the slightest bit cheerful.

  “Got a hit on Hale,” I informed him, strapping the gun to my hip before pulling out my set of blades.

  “Where?”

  “A little town up north. She hasn’t left Oregon.”

  He was quiet for a moment and I heard a door softly close. “How can you be sure?”

  I inspected my blades, something I always did before moving locations. “She’s smart. She has mainly been sticking with cash. She pulled a large sum out here in Portland to purchase a car and was pulled over outside Astoria.”

  “She bought a car?” Jeremy asked, a hint of surprise in his tone.

  “Looks like it. A used sedan from a local car lot. My boy pulled the report, and she wasn’t given a ticket,” I assured him. “You said Chief Harrison gave Hale her wallet and laptop, yes?”

  “Yes, because we were trying to do everything to get her to talk. Before she left, she hadn’t spoken a word since the day they arrested her father,” he explained.

  I knew all of this. I’d read it in her file. On that note, I twisted my torso to double check the thick file was where I left it two hours ago: on the right side of the bed, her picture laying on top. The moonlight seeped in through the cheap motel blinds, drifting over her soft smile and bright curls.

  My jaw tightened.

  The woman in that photo and the one from the security video were two different people. That soft smile she wore was fake, the sharpness in her cheekbones from a lack of food, the bags under eyes, poorly hidden by makeup, from a lack of sleep. To everyone else, that was good photo of the woman, but to a man like me, it was just proof of life.

  Carrie Hale didn’t know what true happiness was. Her friends couldn’t see that, but I hoped when I had her back in St. Louis, she would be able to find it.

  “I’ll have her back to you by the end of the week,” I said, turning back to face the desk, my eyes dropping to the phone.

  “Don’t hurt her,” Jeremy warned, his voice hard.

  “Hurting women isn’t in my job description,” I assured him, my voice cold. “I’m clean and swift. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  He was silent for another moment, and then I heard him sigh. “Don’t scare her either, okay? She has been through enough.”

  “So I’ve gathered,” I deadpanned, putting the blades into my bag.

  “Alright,” the Oasis leader muttered. “Thank you for the update.”

  I hung up the phone because there was nothing more to say and got busy packing up the room. There wasn’t much, just two bags and my laptop. Once that was done, I set the bags by the door and folded back the sheets and comforter to the end of the bed, grabbed the room key, and headed out.

  Once I was on the road, I sat back in the driver’s seat of the SUV I’d rented earlier this week and tried to ignore Hale’s file in the passenger seat.

  When the sun finally rose, I pulled over for some food and a coffee. Inside the small gas station, there was an advertisement for a local Astoria restaurant called Margie’s. As I stared at the faded poster, my eyes on the smiling faces of the customers, I wondered if Hale had seen this same ad.

  I wondered what made her pick Astoria.

  That was just one of the many questions running through my mind about this woman.

  Another question was she still non-verbal?

  My gut twisted at the thought of not hearing her voice. “What the hell?” I muttered, looking away from the poster as my phone rang. I fished it from my pocket and put it to my ear as I headed back to the Tahoe.

  “Grayson.”

  “The money is from her father,” Hayes informed me without so much as a fucking hello.

  My brows came together. “How do you know?”

  “Jake has been monitoring her account, and I got curious.”

  I grunted in agreement. That was a lot of money for someone to have, especially someone who’d never had a high paying job. “You trying to put Jake out of a job?” I asked.

  “You trying to put Dominic out of a job by being a fucking jackass?” my right hand shot back.

  My lips twitched, and for the first time in a fucking week, I felt normal. “What did you find?”

 

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