Page 1 of Hextreme Measures

PROLOGUE

20 YEARS AGO

“Ofelia.”

Oscar Archer looked around the storage room for his daughter. She’d disappeared 20 minutes before when she’d heard her mother’s voice in the main bar — Marie Archer didn’t understand the act of subtlety — and Oscar had let her go in an act of fatherly love.

His nine-year-old daughter preferred spending time at Krewe rather than going to teas and hanging around with the kids of her mother’s friends. Ofelia called the other children in Marie’s social circle “terminally boring,” and Oscar understood what she was saying. He wished she would at least make an attempt at hanging out with the kids — if only to get Marie off his back — but Ofelia was a unique soul.

In other words, she didn’t do things she didn’t want to do.

Marie had been furious when Oscar couldn’t find Ofelia. She was furious most of the time these days. Oscar didn’t point it out — that only made things worse — but he was starting to feel the pressure of his wife’s constant irritation.

He loved his family. He loved his wife and children. Things frayed at the edges of his mind more often than not these days, however. Marie’s constant nitpicking wasn’t helping matters. That’s why he worked extra hours at the bar whenever he could. As the owner, he should have been easing up on his hours now that the bar was firmly established. That wasn’t him. He liked hanging out with the patrons. He enjoyed not having to interact with his wife, who only talked about things he didn’t understand.

Most importantly, he enjoyed hanging out with Ofelia. She loved the bar. Sure, it was illegal for her to be hanging out behind the bar, but he didn’t worry about it too much. He knew most of the police officers in the area, and at most they would tell him to get her out of there. Oscar always obliged … until next time.

Since Ofelia always charmed the responding police officer, who was called by well-meaning patrons who assumed he was a terrible father, it never went anywhere.

Oscar cleared his throat as he walked into the storage room. He knew exactly where he would find his daughter. Sure enough, when he rounded one of the shelves, he caught sight of her. She was in the big purple beanbag he’d bought her, and she looked to be flipping through a magazine rather than a book this evening.

“Your mother is a bit annoyed,” he said as he regarded her. She was at that age where she was all gangly legs and arms. She was going to grow up to be a beauty despite her current awkward phase. He could already tell. “You’re safe, though. She’s left for her tea.”

Ofelia flicked up her eyes, and Oscar could practically hear the gears in her mind working overtime. “Huh,” she said finally. “I didn’t even know she was here.”

Oscar smirked as he nudged her over so he could sit next to her. “At least tell me you’re reading a classic.”

She held up a book he wasn’t familiar with — she’d had it tucked in at her side — and his brow furrowed as he read the title. “The Time Traveler’s Wife.” He cocked his head. “Is this a naughty book? You didn’t get this from your mother’s nightstand, did you?”

Ofelia snorted, then caught herself. “No. I got it at the library.”

Oscar scratched his cheek. He wasn’t an expert, but the book looked as if it should be well above Ofelia’s reading level. “This is an adult book.”

“So?”

“So … shouldn’t you be getting your books in the children’s section? Isn’t there a new Harry Potter out?”

She snorted again. “I already read that. I get bored with children’s books. Before you ask, I read all of the Nancy Drew and Trixie Belden books. They were kind of weird and old.”

“I believe you mean dated,” he corrected. “They were written in a time when things were simpler.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so.” He blew out a sigh. “What is the book about?”

“It’s about a man who travels through time and meets his wife at various points in her life.”

“And you’re sure it’s not a naughty book?”

Ofelia rolled her eyes. “I only just started it. I don’t know if it’s naughty. You don’t have to worry about that, though, because I skip over those parts.”

Oscar had no idea why he was so relieved about that. “Okay, well, just don’t tell your mother I okayed that book if there’s naughty stuff in it.”

She snorted, then went back to flipping through the magazine. Oscar recognized it as one of the ones tweens and teenagers purchased to drool over young Hollywood stars.

“I’m pretty sure your mother said you couldn’t have those magazines because they were tacky,” he noted after a beat.

“That’s why I have it here.”