“Wow. Nothing like small town living.” I shake my head, trying to comprehend how all of that can happen. Blowing out a breath, I say, “You had me worried there for a second.” I nervously chuckle. “With the ‘not-so-nice place’ comment. No, I don’t mind ‘run down.’ You should see the last place—” I stop myself and wince.
Not supposed to mention that. On my resume, it says I last worked at Abstract Dreams. Spencer told me to put it down.
“Was it—” Kat begins to ask.
“Thank you so much for everything! You’ve been a huge help,” I interrupt, avoiding her question.
“Here.” Kat quickly grabs one of the fresh chocolate croissants from the tray her employee is still unloading and puts it in a small brown bag. She hands the bag to me and smiles. “Good luck today and come back to tell me how it all goes.” Her offer feels genuine.
I nod and take the bag from her hand.
As I go to exit, two huge, scary-looking men hold the door open for me. They’re both covered in tattoos and wear black leather vests. Their skin looks dirty and weathered by the sun, like they just had a ton of sand thrown in their faces.
“Good mornin’, sweetheart,” one says to me as he looks me up and down. He has a toothpick in his mouth and one hand on the door. His wind-whipped golden brown hair shines in the light, and the tattoo of a skeleton wearing a cloak gleams on his right bicep.
The other man winks at me and greets me. “Haven’t seen you ‘round here before, beautiful.” His hair is deep ebony, and he has a matching skeleton with a cloak on the same arm.
They’d terrify me if I hadn’t already faced a different kind of monster. But I still keep my guard up.
“Atlas! Bas! Leave her alone,” Kat barks.
The one with golden brown hair turns his head to Kat, and I get a look at a tattoo of the world on the side of his throat.
“Aww, don’t be like that, honey.”
“We had a long ride here and are in need of some caffeine.”
Narrowing my eyes at them, I call over my shoulder, “You okay, Kat?”
“Yeah, I’m good.” Her voice is firm.
I walk to my car with surety in my step and lock the doors as soon as I’m inside. I don’t know what I thought I could do at that moment. I’m a twig compared to those two.
Peering into the coffee shop window, I see an irritated Kat begin making two coffees without asking what they want. They eye her appreciatively, and she acts as if she doesn’t notice. But every woman notices. It’s instinct.
Kat said she’s okay. So, I’ll go but check back later.
Time to meet more business owners of Mystic River.
CHAPTER TWO
GRIFFIN
Leaning against the rustic wall, I sift through the wallet in my hands and tsk. “This would go a lot easier for you if you would just tell us what we want to know.” I come across the driver’s license and pull it out. “Chet Turner of Boston.”
The man tied to the dingy chair lets his head hang forward. His flannel shirt is ripped around the collar, and his jeans have droplets of red all over the thighs. Chet found himself here in the barn over an hour ago.
We should probably replace the chair, but there’s something about being strapped to a rusty chair that usually gets people talking. The dirt floors, lack of windows, and general stench of pain probably contribute to people’s loose lips as well. It helps that it’s still so early in the morning that the sun hasn’t even begun to peek its head out over the horizon.
“Did you hit him too hard?” I ask, folding my arms.
Knox, my twin brother, scoffs at the insinuation. “No way. I was pulling my punches. We need answers, not a corpse.” He folds his arms, analyzing the motionless heap of a man in front of us.
Knox is my mirror in every physical way except for our eyes and the scars that cross his upper lip and left eyebrow. Where my eyes are a russet brown, his are a green hue.
“Maybe pull a little more,” I suggest with a shrug.
Knox rolls his eyes, drops his arms, and approaches Chet with heavy footsteps. He crouches down so he can look Chet in the face. “You’re a little far from home, Chet, and we don’t take too kindly to out-of-towners ‘round here. And encroaching on claimed territory isn’t the smartest move. So, how about you answer our questions so we can all move on with our days. Who do you work for?”
