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Chapter 1
Olivia
Iwas on the long, winding road down the coast back toward Boston when the storm that had been brewing for an hour hit like a sledgehammer. My old Prius skidded sideways on the wet road as buckets of rain and a hard slap of wind came in from the seaside. I fought down my panic and regained control, but the downpour was too much for my windshield wipers to handle even on the highest setting. Two minutes in, I knew I would have to get off the road.
Just my luck. At this rate, I wouldn’t see my little apartment in Cambridge again until tomorrow. I hoped my roommate remembered to feed the fish. The whole idea of holing up in some roadside motel until the skies cleared annoyed me. But better to distract myself with thoughts like that, than let the fear of being blown off a cliff by the storm paralyze me, as my little car shuddered under the onslaught.
Why the hell did I agree to meet a client out in the ass end of nowhere anyway? Murray really owed me on this one.Not that I could blame him for wanting to be home with his wife and baby daughter this weekend, especially after the kid had arrived almost a month early. But this was his client, and his trip to take. And driving in this mess really was kind of scaring me.
Still, I shouldn’t be complaining, and was probably only grumpy about this to distract myself from the fear that was building in my chest from the increasingly slippery roads, which my tires were beginning to struggle with. They were due for a change, but I was putting it off because I didn’t want to part with the cash…
But the auction house where we both worked was planning a massive estate sale for the Salem-based McDonough family, and had sent me out in Murray’s place to do the initial appraisal. The family had collected Faberge eggs, Spanish doubloons, and first editions of dozens of famous books. Probably two hundred and fifty million dollars’ worth of treasure, all told. Even my tiny percentage would set me up for years, so bad weather aside, I was still grateful for the opportunity this job was about to offer me.
I could get that new computer I’ve been needing. I could go back to art school if I wanted.
I could take my closest friend, Anna, on an all-expenses paid weekend away, since I knew she’d been sad lately because her husband was away on a six-month tour of duty. She was unofficially my stepsister, and after she and her family had practically taken me in when I was a teenager, I wanted to be able to give something back to her. It was the least I could do.
Hell, I could do all that and still finally be able to pay off all my student loans—maybe even manage a down payment on my own house, if I was careful and nothing unexpected happened. The commission was a life-changing amount, and it was mine. If I got back home alive, of course.
The wind lifted in another terrifying slap of violence against the side of my vehicle, and I considered that maybe a new car purchase should come first, for the sake of my safety.
It was another five hair-raising minutes before the high, serpentine road brought me back toward the solid ground and a turnoff into the bright autumn woods. The rain and wind were knocking swirls of scarlet, orange, and gold leaves everywhere as I took the turnoff, praying that it led to civilization—a roadhouse, a gas station, somewhere with a parking lot where I could get my bearings and look up local hotels.
What I finally found was a single roadside bar of heavy, dark timber that looked old enough that Lovecraft could have written about it. The high gambrel roof was slate and dripped with moss that was going brown with the turning weather. Ancient neon beer signs glowed in the tiny, multi-paned windows, and bare bulbs glowed under the eaves. A carved wooden sign over the door named it ‘Parkway Pub and Inn’.
As I was pulling into a parking space out front, the whole world lit up white. Barely a second later, thunder roared. That decided things for me. I was going inside. That massive building looked like it could survive a hurricane.
I grabbed my purse and my umbrella and stepped out into the storm, only to have the umbrella turned inside out and then yanked from my hand by the wind.
I was soaked in the few seconds it took me to lock up the car. By the time I walked in the front entrance, I was dripping, shivering, and praying my phone hadn’t gotten waterlogged in my purse. Fortunately, when I pulled it out, it only had a few drops on it.
I looked around and saw a vast, wooden-pillared pub with carved wood everywhere, from seats to tables to wall molding to the elaborately carved bar. A check-in desk stood right in front of me, and off to the side, I saw a set of stairs leading up, probably to the inn portion of the place. As the greenish spots from the lightning flash cleared my vision, I saw a tallish, older woman watching me from behind the desk with amused brown eyes.
“Can I help you, honey?”
“Uh, yeah.” I blinked rain out of my eyes and put on a smile. “I was going to wait this out in the bar, but just in case…do you have any rooms available?”
“Six of the ten, so you’re in luck. You want to put down for one in case we get more in from the rain?”
I thought about it, then shrugged. “Sure, put me down for the night.” I paid cash and signed the ledger. I heard a cork pop and a round of masculine laughter from inside the bar.
“Go on in,” the desk clerk told me, and I did, moving through the large, dim room past heavy, dark wooden furniture, framed movie posters, and anemic-looking ferns. I walked between two long, occupied trestle tables—one with a group of tall, dark-haired men in suits who were pouring champagne, and the other with a mix of men, mostly in hunting clothes or rain gear.
One of the second group, a red-faced bear of a man who looked twice my size, stared at me as I walked past him, his small brown eyes fixed on me in a way I instantly disliked. His expression was greedy, predatory. I knew without looking that his eyes were fixed on my skirt-clad ass below the edge of my purple tweed suit coat.
I was used to being looked at by men. I didn’t think of myself as vain, but I was on the petite side and when men were always staring at your butt or your chest, you made certain assumptions about the state of your curves. Plus, my dark red curls seemed to draw attention, and coupled with my pale skin and big blue eyes, I think it made me look younger, which was also apparently a draw card. That is, until they caught my attitude, then they usually changed their mind about my apparently naive disposition.
It wasn’t usually such a big deal, I could handle a bit of staring. But sometimes the stares were more than just stares. Sometimes they were a warning that more was coming, like comments, a wayward hand getting grabby, or some creep following me down the street. One had even tried to slip a tracking device into my purse so he could find out where I lived. That one, I had taken a photo of and sent it to Anna’s brother Luis, who had told me he had local friends who could discourage the creep. Luis was a social guy who apparently had a never-ending supply of acquaintances, and as Anna’s older brother, he’d gone out of his way to look out for us ever since we were young. But Luis and Anna were back in Boston.
I wished I’d brought a book in with me, but I doubted ignoring this drunk asshole in its favor would stop a guy like that. Maybe I’d get lucky, and the storm would let up quickly. The intense ones rarely had much staying power.
“Coffee,” I told the bartender, a middle-aged man with a shaved head and a dad bod who wore a horror movie t-shirt and had full-sleeve tattoos on his arms. He was so much more memorable than the desk clerk that I blinked at him for a moment.
He flashed me a grin. “Two drink minimum, sweetheart.” He had a Long Island accent.
“Two coffees, then. I’m soaked through.” I caught myself craving a cigarette and looked around to distract myself. I had quit four years ago, back when I had just been starting out at the auction house. When stress started getting to me, the cravings returned, like ghosts haunting my brain. At least my body didn’t crave them anymore. That had been hell.
As I looked around, I caught a better look at that group of suited men. They looked like close family, brothers, maybe, all with that thick dark hair, pale skin, and high cheekbones. They had the same basic taste in suits too, all with crisp white shirts. Most were hulking bruisers, big as the hunter who was staring at me, but with much more muscle. But the one that really caught my eye was a bit different from the others.
