Magic Kiss (Hope Falls Book 11) (2 page)

BOOK: Magic Kiss (Hope Falls Book 11)
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He could get the R&R that had been prescribed to him and also see if the man who was responsible for half of his DNA was on the up-and-up. Kill two birds. That was the plan. So he rented the cabin adjacent to the one his father currently inhabited.

Things weren’t exactly going as planned though. Three weeks in and he’d only had a couple of brief, somewhat awkward, conversations with Charlie. And despite the setting, he was feeling anything but peaceful and he wasn’t even in the ballpark of tranquility.

Rolling his shoulders back, Logan tried to shake off the anxiety that had been at a low brew since the
incident
. It had always been there, but lately, it had been increasing to a boil and spilling over without any trigger or notice. It was the main reason his captain had insisted that he take some time off.


Get your head right. Decompress. Don’t come back until you’re ready
.”

Those had been the last words Captain Frasier had said to him after he’d been pulled out of his last undercover assignment. He and his partner’s covers had been blown. They had been taken to a warehouse to be executed. His partner hadn’t made it. Logan had.

Before that, in the Marines, he’d been Special Forces. After three tours and having lost over half of his unit when they had walked into an ambush, Logan had decided to return to civilian life.

After he’d let the powers that be know he would not be re-upping, he had been recruited by the NYPD. Then he’d begun working in the OCCB (Organized Crime Control Bureau) as an undercover detective. Some jobs were a few months; this last one took over his life for sixteen months. Logan was now finding that going that deep wasn’t easy to come out of.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw ghosts. Ghosts he hadn’t been able to save. Ghosts that took him back to dark places. Ghosts he was beginning to think would haunt him for the rest of his life. Ghosts that no amount of scenery, nature, rest, or relaxation could ever exorcise.

Breathing in deeply, Logan was just about to go take a shower when the wooden steps that led up to his front door creaked. His first thought was that Charlie was back, but the footsteps were too light for a two-hundred-pound man.

Sounded like his welcome party was up early this morning.

He moved silently across the living room so that he could see through the tiny peephole just as a barely audible knock sounded on the door. For a moment, all Logan could see was an empty porch. Then a baseball cap came into view. The person beneath it was looking down, so Logan only saw a Mariners logo.

When Logan didn’t immediately open the door, the baseball cap tipped up and he was able to see the face below the brim. He immediately recognized the face. It was a younger version of one of the faces that haunted him and the last face he’d expected to see.

“What the hell?” Logan asked under his breath as he opened the door. “Drew?”

Andrew Locke Jr. stood on his porch, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “Hey, Logan.” Relief flooded his young face. “I’m glad you’re home.”

“What are you doing here? Where’s your mom?” Logan’s mind was having a hard time catching up to what his eyes were seeing.

“New York.” Drew had answered as plainly as if he’d said that she was waiting for him in the car.

“New York?” he asked, even though repeating the location wasn’t going to make this situation any more real.

“Yep. She’s there meeting with her publisher,” Drew explained—like that cleared everything up.

It didn’t.

“And
you’re
here?” That was obvious, but Logan was still trying to wrap his brain around the fact that the godson he hadn’t seen in five years was standing on his porch.

“Yep.” Drew nodded as he puffed his chest out.

“Does your mom know you’re here?” Logan had a bad feeling he wasn’t going to like the kid’s answer.

Instead of responding, Drew’s gaze dropped to the ground, as did his duffel bag.

“Drew.” Logan’s voice had suddenly adapted a commanding tone.

Looking up, the kid squared his shoulders and stuck his chin out. “No. She thinks I’m at a wilderness camp in Lake Tahoe. I snuck out of my cabin last night and took a bus here.”

“Why?” Logan barked.

Drew’s face flinched. Logan didn’t mean to be an asshole, but this situation was not bringing out the best in him. Not that he was sure he even had a best—or any good at all left in him to bring out.

“Because.” Drew’s voice wavered before he swallowed hard. “I want to know about my dad, and I want you to tell me.”

Shit.
If Drew had just been rebelling or running away for some other reason, this would’ve been a hell of a lot easier. But the kid wanted to know about his dad. The man who’d been like Logan’s other twin brother. The man who had died in his arms. The man who had caused Logan to leave the Marines. The man Logan had failed.

As the commanding officer on the ground, Logan had given the order to enter the building that was believed to house the captured soldier they’d been sent there to rescue. He’d walked his entire unit into an ambush. An ambush that killed his best friend.

“Come in.” Logan reached down and grabbed the small duffel bag that was on the porch.

Letting out a huge breath, Drew’s expression relaxed as he stepped into the cabin.

As Logan shut the door, a thought occurred to him. “How did you know I was here?”

It’d only been a month since he relocated. How in the hell did a kid he hadn’t seen in five years know he was in Hope Falls?

Drew pulled a crumpled-up card out of his pocket. It was the birthday card Logan had sent two weeks ago for Drew’s tenth birthday. The kid pointed to the return address.

“You’re a regular Columbo.” Logan shook his head as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“A who?” Drew’s face scrunched up.

“Never mind.” Logan pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts.

“Who are you calling?” The bravado that had filled Drew’s voice earlier was completely gone.

“Your mom.”

“Oh, man.” Drew sank into the couch. “Do you have to?”

“Yes. I do.” He didn’t have a choice.

His heart started beating faster as his finger touched the numbers on the screen. After the first ring, he stepped towards the open window, his back now facing the kid. The last thing he needed was an audience to witness the effect this phone call would undoubtedly have on him since he was about to hear the voice of the woman who had starred in his dreams; the co-star in his forbidden fantasies for the past four years.

The wife of his best friend. The one woman in this world who was completely off-limits, and the one woman in this world Logan couldn’t get out of his head.

Chapter 2


E
mma Locke ran her hands down her form-fitting, pinstriped blazer. She turned from side to side, taking in her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her black pencil skirt and white silk button up shirt were complemented by red “F-me” high heels. Long, blonde hair fell loose around her shoulders, and her smoky-eyed makeup highlighted her blue eyes. Biting her lower lip, she tried to assess her appearance objectively.

All the pieces were there, but something she couldn’t quite put her finger on was missing. She looked…okay. Not spectacular.

Today of all days, she needed to look fireworks-on-the-Fourth-of-July spectacular.

Emma pivoted back to the bathroom sink, picked her lipstick up, and puckered her lips. Then, after applying another coat of mascara and a little bronzer, she ran the straight iron over a particularly stubborn piece of hair she was determined to bend to her will.

Not that what she looked like mattered. It didn’t. This meeting wasn’t going to go well. She had no illusions of looking so good, so put together, that she’d wow her publisher and agent into giving her more time or keeping her as a client. And that was okay.

For the last six years, she tried to adopt the Serenity prayer that was a staple of AA and other twelve step programs as her daily mantra. Did she have a substance abuse problem? Nope. But the prayer had definitely seen her through some dark times.

God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,

The courage to change the things I can,

And the wisdom to know the difference.

In this situation, she needed all of the above. She had the
wisdom
to know that her only hope of coming out the other side of this thing was to at least look her very best as her career went down in flames. Most likely, it was the Southern woman coming out in her. You could take the girl out of the South, but you couldn’t take the South out of the girl. She could practically hear her mother’s voice saying, “
Your house might be on fire, but that’s no excuse to leave it with wet hair. That’s just low rent.

So yes, she wanted to look her absolute best as she got axed from her publisher and most likely let go by her agent. Her goal was to walk out of that office with even the tiniest shred of dignity, her head held high, and not a hair out of place. She felt like she was going into battle today and this suit, this makeup, this Chanel No. 5—those were her armor, her only defense against humiliation. If that made her shallow, she could live with that.

Deep breath.
In through her nose, out through her mouth. Looking in the mirror at her reflection, she whispered the other mantra she’d adopted. This one she’d penned herself.

“You can do this. No matter what happens, you will be fine.”

Unfortunately, her pep talk fell on deaf ears, because Emma was a realist. A
romantic
realist, but a realist all the same. And the truth was she wasn’t sure she would be fine. This meeting held her and Drew’s future in its hands. If her publisher decided not to give her more time to finish the last two books they’d optioned in her series, she was screwed. Her finances were shaky at best.

Her late husband, Andrew, had been their sole means of support. He had had big plans for their future, and part of that had been purchasing a home they could barely afford. Once he’d passed, Emma hadn’t wanted to move Drew out of the only home he’d ever known. The DIC, death gratuity, and pension helped, but they weren’t enough to live on while raising and establishing a college fund for Drew. Logan sent money every month to help out, but she never wanted to depend on that.

If she lost her publishing deal, she wasn’t sure what she was going to do.

Writers block had prevented her from completing the eight book series for the last couple of years. It’s not that she hadn’t written anything—she had. She was a very disciplined writer. But nothing she’d written was any good. It was flat, boring, and uninspired.

As she finally tamed her wayward hair, she took one more look in the mirror and knew that it might not be great, but it was as good as she was going to get.

After she’d become a widowed single mom six years ago at the age of twenty, Emma had thrown herself into two things: her work and being the best parent she could be. Since she had been a little girl, she’d loved writing, and after having lost her husband, her partner, her best friend, and the father of her son, she’d finished the books she’d always put on the back burner and published six books in three years.

Sadly, all of that forward momentum had come to a screeching halt a few years ago. The older Drew got, the more activities—both in school and extracurricular—he was in. He was a natural athlete just like his dad. Her active son was signed up in Little League baseball, soccer, and pee wee football. And being a good student and creative person like his mom, he also competed in spelling bees, science fairs, and math decathlons. It seemed like, overnight, her entire life had been completely consumed with practices, games, meetings, and carpools. Not to mention she was the homeroom mom and president of the PTA.

Some might say that she was overcompensating because she was both mom and dad—and “some” might have a point. She didn’t regret the time and energy she’d dedicated to Drew, his school, and his extracurricular activities. But she was starting to realize she’d lost herself somewhere in the midst of it. And, as a romance writer, she’d lost her voice. It was like she was suffering from a serious case of romance laryngitis, and unfortunately, she had no idea what the cure was.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. She had a pretty good idea of what would help. She’d been in a dry spell that would rival the Sahara Desert. Sadly, the only person she’d been remotely
thirsty
for was the only person she absolutely couldn’t use to quench her thirst.

He was an undercover police officer who lived right there in New York. He also happened to be her son’s godfather and her deceased husband’s best friend. Which made it complicated that… Well, let’s just say if she were Stella, he was the one man who could give her her groove back.

Still, the thought of stopping by his place to say hi and hope he offered her a glass of water was tempting. Wrong and absolutely off the table, but tempting nonetheless.

Since losing Andrew, Emma had ruled out the possibility of dating. The last thing she wanted was a parade of men in and out of Drew’s life. He’d had it hard enough, having lost his father at such a young age. She wanted to build a life, a home with stability and love, which, when it was just her, was totally in her control. Bringing someone else into that mix meant losing that control. Plus, she hadn’t met one man—other than the aforementioned officer!—who had tempted her to rethink her plan.

BOOK: Magic Kiss (Hope Falls Book 11)
8.18Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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