“I know, that’s why I like teasing you about it. Don’t worry, everyone’s got stories about creeps, but this . . . I mean, I think you should just be cautious, Kaitlyn. Perfect guys are never perfect. Be careful, okay? I can remember the day you were born, and you’re already falling in love—”

  “You were seventeen when I was born, Jessie, and I’m not falling in love with Owen,” I squawk a high-pitched denial, and my sister giggles as I turn looking out the window to watch the city pass by. “I’m finally glad I moved here and took this job, and I meet a guy. I paid off my condo . . . me and my team work really well together, you know. We just had a little thing to celebrate finishing a project at the bar Owen owns. It was actually really fun.”

  “Does that mean you’ll invite us up sometime so you can show us all the wonderful things about your life without us,” she says, a fake sadness lilting her tone, and I hum softly in acknowledgment while the cab stops at a red light. “I mean it, Kaitlyn. It’s been almost three years since we last saw you. Even if we can’t come up there, maybe you could take some time to come down to Arizona? We’re gonna be getting together for the annual family barbeque, anyway, and you need to show up this year. No more excuses! You’re secure in your job, and it’s months away, so put in the request now.”

  “Fine . . . fine, I will. I’ll come down there. I don’t think Seattle has a hotel big enough for everyone,” My joke earns me a knowing snort of a laugh even as discomfort slithers between my shoulder blades. “I gotta go, but I love you and I’ll call you next week, okay?”

  We say our goodbyes and hang up, and I sigh as I stare at my reflection in the window.

  “Got a big family?” the driver asks, and I nod as I sit up straight to put my phone back in my purse.

  “Thirteen of us, yeah. I’m one of the youngest, so it’s so much easier to go to them than for them to come to me.” He whistles lowly as he takes a turn, and the bridge of my nose tingles with a headache at the mere mention of it. Slowly, I begin to recognize my neighborhood, and I close my eyes briefly. Today had been long, and I’m kinda glad it’s over.

  Chapter Five

  Owen

  “You think I’m making a mistake.” Mine isn’t a question, but Michael scowls at me darkly when I glance up from my computer screen. “The way I think of it is proving myself before I need to.”

  “You’re gonna swim to that ship at night, take control of it by yourself, hold the guy you wanna impress hostage, and if he’s sufficiently blown away, you’re gonna still steal some of his shit.” Thoroughly unimpressed himself, Michael rubs his mouth agitatedly as he leans back on his heels. My bedroom seems small with him in it, standing there, looming, and I nod tentatively with a slight smirk. He rolls his eyes, braving a hand on my computer desk to stare at the screen. Scanning the simple, paint drawing I’d made, he scoffs lightly. “It’ll work. If this is accurate, it should work. You’re sure these guys are the only ones aboard?”

  “Seven guys, yeah, it sounds about right for a ship that size. I’m thinkin’ there’ll be two guarding each entrance to the cargo bay, one stationed at both the boarding ladders, and another up here supervising each end of the boat,” Pointing at the screen, I sniff harshly and nod to myself in satisfaction. “Seven, not including the captain or whoever they have facilitating the deal. I can totally handle that. Easy-peasy.”

  “They’re spread out for maximum visual coverage, but they sacrifice readiness. I get it, yeah. If you can’t use the ladders, how’re you gonna get in?” Stomping my feet excitedly against the carpet, I jump up from my chair to reach under my bed for a long tote. Digging through my unorganized kit of jumbled, useful shit, I pull out two large suction cups with audible glee. “You’re gonna use suction cups to crawl up the side of the boat?”

  “I saw it in Mission Impossible, and I was at the docks yesterday testing a smaller version of these. It’ll totally work.” Pulling tiny suction cups out of my discarded jean pockets, I chuckle at Michael’s bewildered expression. “I got them at the craft store. They’re for hanging those painted glass things that kids make.”

  “That’s not the same at all, but I guess you’re not wrong in your methods. This is a crazy plan, Owen. You watch too many movies.” Grumbling as I stuff the suction cups back into the box, I snap the lid shut and shove it under my bed. Satisfaction and relief that Michael approved, even begrudgingly, spreads through me, and he kicks me gently to grab my attention. Crawling over to my computer to quickly lock the profile, I grunt lowly. “How much did you make Joshua drink last night? He’s still snorin’ on the couch, and you didn’t even have the decency to pull it out for him.”

  “I didn’t make him drink anything, Mike. I actually had to stop him. He was chuggin’ hard,” I hold up my hands defensively, and he grunts with disbelief as I haul my ass to my feet. Glancing out the doorway, I can see Joshua’s feet hanging off the sofa, and I rub the back of my neck upset. “He asked me if you hated him and . . . how did I get over my dad killing my mom. I didn’t know what to say, honestly. I basically just told him some generic shit about people getting what they deserved and changed the subject.”

  “His opinion of me would probably be better if I were dead. He idolizes Julie, and I get it. I do. She might’ve been a piece of shit person, but she was a good mother, and she loved him . . . and most importantly, he knew she loved him.” Michael’s voice strains, and I sit on my bed heavily to rub my face with both my hands.

  “I meant about my mom, but you’re right. That’s why I never told him the truth,” I reply, and Michael puts a hand on my shoulder to squeeze firmly. “If I told him I killed my mother, he wouldn’t understand. So, I told him that his mother’s dead, and she doesn’t deserve kind words simply because of that fact. She was a trash human being. After that, he drank a hundred bucks worth of rum. Good thing is he was too drunk to notice I paid with his card.”

  “Don’t be hard on him, Owen. He’s not built like you—”

  “He’s not, but you need to understand he’s not a seven-year-old anymore. Jesus, fuck, I feel like I’m the only one around here that can see how dysfunctional you two are,” I interrupt Mike harshly, lifting my head to scowl up at him. He crosses his arms over his chest tightly, defensively, and I roll my eyes before standing up. “You’re his father, not his dad, there’s a difference. He’s your son, but he ain’t your boy. If you didn’t wanna have to deal with this, you shouldn’t have acted like he didn’t exist. He made choices based on your mistakes, and you’re making mistakes based on his choices. When he sobers up, you sit and talk to him to his face, not give him space and let him come to you, because he won’t, Mike.”

  “Owen! O-Owen!” Leaving my bedroom, I raise my hand over my back at Michael as I storm through my apartment. I slam the door behind me as I leave, shuffling heavily down the stairs and rub my jaw hard, sucking my teeth. Emerging into the back of the bar, I pause mid-step as a fancy, black suit slumps over the bar, and I clear my throat roughly.

  “We’re closed, buddy.” Narrow, blue eyes find mine, and I blink in surprise before starting toward him. He palms his water bottle loosely, leaning back to eyeball me with a glint I don’t much like. “You work for Harmon?”

  “I see you’re very much still involved in your brother’s dealings. Listen, Owen.” Sitting a bar stool away from him, I glance over questioningly, and he nods lightly. Leaning over the bar to grab a bottle of water, I grin impishly as my nameless adversary chuffs a scoff. “Fine. We won’t play the game. I know you’re planning to hit the ship.”

  “You bug my place or somethin’?” I ask, but immediately shake my head, uncapping my water bottle easily when my mouth goes dry. Shit, shit. Shit. Hissing at the cold, my lip curls in a snarl before cocking my head at him. “Man . . . it was a fantastical plan, too.”

  “I’m sure it was. I want to see what you’re made of.” Surprise closes my throat, and he arches a brow quizzically and rolls his jaw. “I checked your story, you have some genuine sticky-fingers. I don’t think it’s surprising that your brother had never realized it, but your father . . . those were some keen eyes to evade.”

  “That’s what you wanna talk about? Dead man’s haunt?” I ask incredulously, and he juts his chin out at me before I rub my lips to hide my sneer. “It’s less glorious than stealing a ship, for sure.”

  “Do you know the reason I’m buying you out instead of just taking it all?” I grunt lowly at the question, my spidey-sense tingling. Holding my breath in anticipation, fire races up my sternum as I watch him out of the corner of my eye. He tilts his water bottle at me, still unopened, and skewers me with his gaze. “Because your mother was his accomplice, but mine was his victim, and I’m doing this for you, Owen. Rowlan’s body, it’s gonna disappear into the Pacific, but what happens to you is still up in the air.”

  Blood drums loudly in my ears only to be drowned out by an intense, shrill ringing. Staring at the guy I squint a little, around his eyes and nose, I can see my father. Just a touch of him, though.

  “Be glad that’s all he did to you, second hand to boot,” I mutter dryly, and he nods knowingly before reaching around to tap his back with a knowing look. “Your boss knows about it?”

  “I am the boss, so yeah.” Holding out a hand for me to shake, and I take it with the crawling sensation that I’d sold my soul to the devil. “Ryan Harmon. I like you already.”

  “To tiny, little men,” I mutter, and Ryan copies me before holding out his water bottle for some sort of fucked up, ceremonial clink. “You shouldn’t like me, because we have the same fucked up genes.”

  “Nah, unlike you, I have a half of me I don’t hate, but you . . . you have to make it all by yourself. I respect that. It’s what I like about you, not some obligation to a man who deserved worse than the quick death blowing his brains out accomplished.” Ryan shakes his head as my blood turns to frigid sludge in my veins, and I roll my jaw hard. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and he takes a sip of his water in the terse silence.

  “It seemed longer watching him do it.” Soft creaking steals my attention, and I twist to watch Michael stumble into the bar, running both his hands through his hair. “Hey, you wake up the slob yet?”

  “Yeah, he’s hunched over the toilet. I told him what you said,” grumbling unhappily, Michael walks behind the bar to grab my water bottle and take heaving gulps. “That I was done acting like he didn’t exist, and he wasn’t leavin’ this bar ‘til we talked. Who’s that?”

  “This is Ryan Harmon . . . see, he approves of my plan to get the ship.” Clapping a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, I grin broadly. Mostly because Michael started takin’ his head outta his ass. Eyeballing Ryan skeptically, Michael sets down the water bottle slowly.

  “Does he know about the suction cups?”

  “Suction cups?” Choking on his drink, Ryan gives me a wild look as I struggle to keep my expression innocent. I turn away from the both of them, hopping off the stool to run away. Hiking it up the stairs, I sigh in relief when the hairs on the back of my neck lay down. Fuck, I’m so fucked. Completely fucked.

  Chapter Six

  Kaitlyn

  “Hey, hi.” My mouth dries at the strained smile Owen gives me that doesn’t show in his eyes. “Everything okay?”

  “Ah, just some family drama. Nothing to worry about.” He stuffs his hands into his jeans pockets, and I hold his biceps to find them wound tightly. Stiffening slightly, he chuffs a wry laugh and sniffles harsh before holding my waist in hot, clammy palms. “Sorry, Kaitlyn, I knew I probably should’ve canceled. Though both my options sucked—canceling or being a crap date. I figured I’d at least be able to apologize to your face.”

  My mouth dries at the guilt and regret thrumming in his voice, and Owen inhales deeply through his nose before palming my waist loosely. “I apologize, Kaitlyn.”

  “No, no, it’s okay,” Sliding my palms up his broad shoulders, I manage a weak smile, appreciation for his effort sticking my tongue to the roof of my mouth. “We can—we can talk and walk or get some takeout and sit somewhere. That’s fine, that’s better than fine, yeah. Nicer than a restaurant.”

  “That does sound nice,” he admits, and relief slumps my shoulders and pushes a sigh from my lungs. I turn to hook my elbow around his, and Owen smiles as he picks up a little. Family drama. I know enough about the stuff to give me nightmares, and I reach to rub my head thoughtfully with my free hand. Glancing up at the large buildings stretching high around us, my breath hitches before I turn to him.

  “You know, moving here to Seattle was the first time I truly had time and real separation from my family. I remember when I started renting my condo, I couldn’t even be in it, because it was so quiet.” My words draw Owen’s gaze, and his eyes brighten with realization as his smile finally reaches them. “I ran up a horrible electric bill the first couple months. I think the worst was a four-hundred-dollar bill that came in the mail. I graduated college after taking a four-year course, but then I moved back home to save up money. My parents were good about it, as long as I paid my own phone and car insurance and stuff. They would cover everything else. I mean, it’s not like they had a shortage of helping hands.”

  “It sounds like your parents deserve a daughter like you.” I blush fiercely even as I wonder—what a strange thing to say. Owen leans over as he takes a step, nudging me with his elbow lightly with an encouraging smile. “I can’t imagine growing up with twelve siblings. You mentioned before that you had a nephew that was older than you. How’s that work?”

  “Well, that’s more . . . I don’t wanna say it’s an unfortunate accident, but my oldest sister was a teen mom. She was sixteen, and I was born a year later. But . . .” Pausing to hold up a finger, I wince at how bad it sounds, and Owen casts me a curious look. “Bright side—she didn’t do it twice. I’m not really clear on the details, but she got married when she was twenty, and her husband’s pretty okay. It’s just, like, when everyone in the house is calling for Mom and Dad, it got a little confusing when we were younger, but that all straightened out eventually.”

  “That’s nuts, having a sibling so much older than you. My brother’s four years older than me, but he acts like it matters. Sixteen years, I could understand. Why’d you come to Seattle specifically? Surely, there’s other places you could’ve gone that have a lower cost of living, or you know, not as many overt racists?” I giggle a little uncomfortably at the question as we walk along the sidewalk, and I pull my hair over my shoulder with my free hand. Taking a big breath, I shake my head and sigh as my mind whirs.

  “Seattle was the farthest I could get environmentally from my family that I was comfortable with. Arizona’s a desert, but Washington has basically everything. Plus, I didn’t wanna be somewhere my family thought would be fun to go to. Like, Florida or a place that was super touristy. So, I spent a couple months researching and this is where I landed,” I sigh happily despite the harshness of my admission. “I know it sounds bad, but I really didn’t wanna live anywhere that’d scream ‘we’ll just bring the whole family.’”

  “I don’t think it sounds bad. Even though you seem to have a great family, it’s tiring being around them all the time. My brother and I live twenty minutes apart, but I never see him if I don’t have to,” Owen reveals solemnly, running his hand through his lush, mahogany hair, and my palms itch to do the same. The breeze feels wonderful, and I watch him lick his lips before continuing. “When was the last time you saw your family in person?”

  “We have a big barbeque every year, yeah. In the winter, because Arizona heat can melt you if you get too close to the door.” He laughs at that—a genuine, happy laugh, and I smile widely as the dampness on us seems to dissipate. With every step we take, Owen perks up a little more, and I bite my bottom lip as I reach to caress his smile. His face freezes, and he grabs my hand to kiss the backs of my fingers lingeringly. “You have a great smile. Don’t let anyone take it away.”

  “I’ll take your advice to heart, Kaitlyn.” Pressing my palm against his chest, Owen’s smile tenderizes, and flames lick my cheeks. My heart pounds hard, and I hum softly as I duck my head. “I’m glad I decided not to call and cancel. You ever been told you’re like the sun? You make everything bright and happy.”

  “Oh, jeez.” Covering my flaming face with my free hand, I push him away as butterflies flutter in my abdomen. His laugh envelops me, and he wraps an arm around my lower back with a low chuckle. “No, I’ve never been told that. You’re so cheesy, Owen. For real. How’d you ever make it to twenty-seven with lines like that?”

  “I’ve got other ones.” Amusement laces his voice thickly, and a giggle escapes me when he clears his throat and nods firmly. “Here’s my favorite one—did you fall from Heaven, because you’re an a—”

  Owen suddenly stops walking, and goosebumps sweep up my arms as I look over at him questioningly. His face twists with rage, his eyes burning with hatred, and my breath hides deep in my lungs as I turn to look. A man I don’t recognize walks towards us purposefully, and my chest tightens as my heart leaps into my throat. Every cell in my body screams at me to run and Owen squeezes me briefly before taking a half step in front of me.

  “Rowlan.” The tension in the air intensifies with Owen’s low growl, and shock knocks my heart down from my throat. Gulping harshly, I grip his arm—to hold him back or brace myself, I don’t know. Rowlan’s his brother, I think? They certainly look alike, but something about Rowlan tells me to run and not look back. That if he glanced at me, I’d turn to ash to be scattered in the sweet, spring breeze. “I thought I told you to back off.”

  “You gonna run off like a little rat bitch?” Rowlan snarls, and the hairs on the back of my neck bristle from the threat rolling off him in powerful waves. “It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one that’s been stealing from right under me.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14