Why did I take this job in the first place? Since the moment I’d met Damien Striker, my world had been turned upsidedown.
Chapter Thirteen
We’d drivenover nine hours and finally arrived in the dead of night to a small southwest town in Arizona called Bisbee. It was only ten miles from the Mexican border. Although it was dark, I could see it had charm as we drove in. It was some cute old mining town with vintage appeal and old brickbuildings.
Damien pulled up to an old soap factory building and parked the car in front. When he’d said vacation home, I was envisioning a beach house in Malibu or something. Notthis.
We pulled up next to him and finally stepped out of the car. I’d broken down and taken another caffeine/pain pill mixture about an hour ago and was jittery as I hobbled over to the double doors. They were chain and padlocked shut, but Damien had produced a key and was unlocking them with greatdifficulty.
“It’s rusted shut,” he growled, trying to force the key toturn.
Nox came up behind him with bolt cutters and asked him to step aside. Nox was always over prepared, with shit like bolt cutters and night vision goggles. It was pretty amazing. He even kept a bobby pin in his pocket at all times. Honestly, when is it not a good idea to have a bobbypin?
“Where in the hell did you hear about Bisbee, Arizona?” I laughed, looking around at the small eclectic town. It was totally my vibe, reeking of vintage, hippies and yoga. Everything I was pretty sure Damien wasnot.
Damien smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. “My ex-girlfriend was from here,” he saidflatly.
Was.She was dead. Probably the Dream Wars. God, now I felt bad forasking.
“It’s a cute town,” Iamended.
This time the smile did reach his eyes. “You know, they do this weird parade every year to celebrate the return of the turkeyvultures.”
My eyes bugged out and he laughed. What the hell was a turkey vulture, and why would you celebrate itsreturn?
“It’s a quirky fun town taken over by artists. You’ll see. I bought the old soap factory from my ex’s parents when their business went under. Paid cash and put it in Mr. Hansen’sname.”
Mr. Hansen had been standing there quietly, but now he perked up. “You bought me an old soapfactory?”
Damien grinned and clapped him on the back. “Kind of, yeah. Do you likeit?”
Mr. Hansen beamed. “It needs some cleaning up, but I do rather fancy retiring here.” The gray paint was peeling off the side of the building, and the metal doors were covered inrust.
“The inside’s actually nice and fully renovated. Melanie and I were going to turn it into a bed-and-breakfast, but then she….” He stopped, and rubbed the back of hishead.
“I miss Mel. Her hair smelled of coconuts. I liked that,” Jeremy said from behindme.
Jealousy spiked through me at this talk of Melanie.Wow, I’m jealous of a dead girl. Get a grip,Kit.
Damien ignored his brother’s comment and pushed the doors open wide, flipping on somelights.
Wow.
I hobbled into the entryway. It was done up beautifully. Some things were still left half-unfinished, like theBisbee B&Bsign laying on the ground and the backsplash tile that was meant to go behind the counter, but other than that it was a huge open loft-type space that looked nearly complete. The beams were stained a dark brown, and the exposed air ducts gave it a cool vibe. The floors were a gray-stained concrete, and it looked like rooms had been built out in theback.
“It hasn’t been cleaned in two years, so excuse the dust, but make yourselves at home,” he told everyone as we started to set our thingsdown.
Maxine beelined it to the bar that was just to the right of the check-in desk. It was a small ten-foot wooden counter with four to five barstools behind it, the bottles coated in a thick layer of dust. “Who wants a cocktail?” sheshouted.
“I’ll take a shot of whiskey,” Josephine answered, surprising me. She looked tired, poor thing, but she was shooting whiskey, which was so badass. I still couldn’t believe I was hanging with J. Pearl. Tatum was about to experience the legend of J. Pearl when she started bootcamp.
Jeremy sat down on one of the entryway couches and opened the brand-new laptop that Damien had gotten him. “They took my stuff. I hate them,” he mumbled, typing furiously on thecomputer.
Poor kid couldn’t move past that. I couldn’t either. Waking up from surgery with the FBI holding a gun to you was prettyshocking.
“Okay, so what’s the plan now that we can speak freely?” I asked theroom.
Mr. Hansen had already started wiping down countertops, and Ronnie was right next to him with a spray bottle and paper towels. She was a neat freak, and I knew she wouldn’t rest until this place was as spotless as an operatingroom.
