No Broken Beast Read online

  My floury son hides behind my back, but Warren stares at me with the same stricken look that must be on my face.

  Then he smiles—rueful, but warm, with a kind of accepting shrug, as if to say what can you do?

  I shrug back, offering the same wistful smile. Not much.

  “Hey, Rissa Bell,” he murmurs. “Welcome home.”

  The woman—she must be Haley, I spoke with her on the phone on the frantic drive out here, and she confirms it when I recognize the warmth of her voice—brightens. “Oh! Clarissa Bell, right? Are you ready to check in?” She grins, leaning to peer past me at Zach. “And I see somebody needs a shower.”

  “Sorry,” I offer sheepishly, glancing at my boy. “Go wait on the porch, baby. You’re getting flour on the carpet.”

  “Aw, don’t worry about it,” Haley says, and leans up to kiss Warren’s cheek before peeling away from him and fishing through the ring of keys on her belt. “Here, I’ll take you out to your cabin. It’s one of our new additions in the woods, and I don’t want you getting lost. They haven’t quite finished grading the paths yet, so it’s more of a...” She wrinkles her nose. “I don’t even want to call it a trail. It’s a suggestion. But once you get oriented, you won’t get turned around, I promise.”

  “Thanks,” I say faintly and let her bustle me and Zach outside.

  I can feel Warren watching me curiously. Probably wondering what the hell brought me back to Heart’s Edge.

  He wasn’t here that night. I heard he spent years as a stranger to this town himself after Jenna was killed overseas.

  But I’m sure he’s heard things about me, too.

  All the rumors, the lies, the things that might be true, but I can’t stand to know.

  And there are things he can’t know, either.

  Things I won’t answer, if he ever decides to have a friendly chitchat with a childhood friend.

  Things I can’t answer, when the one person who might be able to fill in those gaps is just a ghost, a shadow haunting this town.

  I hear they’re calling him Nine now. The legend in the hills. A monster man who’s become so infamous the tall tales are almost turning supernatural.

  To me, he’ll just be Leo.

  The cabin Haley shows us to is new. It’s set off from the rest of the others dotting the slope leading down to the half-heart cliff that shapes Heart’s Edge. She said something about privacy suites and new construction when we’d spoken on the phone. I’d mentioned wanting to keep a low profile and stay out of sight.

  Which means there’s a screening wall of trees separating the rustic but modern cabin from the rest of the property. I can barely see the white columns of the main house through the fat trunks.

  We pick our way up the wooded slope angling deeper into the mountains and the lush green acres of untouched forest. That’s what always makes the air smell like this. Crisp, cool pine, no matter the time of year.

  The other cabins are nearly invisible from the wooden deck encircling ours.

  Perfect.

  We don’t belong here. I don’t belong here. So this will do.

  I certainly don’t plan on staying long enough for anyone to start painting me back into this landscape, getting silly ideas in their heads.

  As if I could ever be part of Heart’s Edge again.

  As if I’d ever spend an extra minute in this town.

  Yeah. If only Deanna’s life didn’t depend on it.

  * * *

  It takes an hour to help get Zach clean, when water just turns the flour in his hair into dough.

  He wriggles like a puppy while I stroke his head, scrub and rinse, until he’s no longer a human cookie. Just my sweet boy, laughing and squirming. I hug him tight and blow raspberries in his wet hair, then shoo him off to finish washing up proper and change for bed, even though it’s barely time for dinner.

  I leave him curled up happily on the couch, half watching TV, half browsing takeout menus. I’m not up for a grocery trip tonight.

  Maybe not any night.

  Shopping feels too much like settling in.

  Like killing time, when all I can do is wait for the detectives from Missoula to try to make sense of the crime scene and pick up Deanna’s trail.

  God, I hate waiting.

  Knowing the statistics on kidnapping recovery rates doesn’t help a bit.

  People only come home with clear motives. When things like ransoms are involved, and the kidnappers want something tangible, when they leave more demands than icy silence.

  I swallow something thick in my throat. The best way to silence someone is to make sure they never breathe another word, and after what happened to drive me out of Heart’s Edge...

  If she was here, I could smack her. Because if Deanna’s been digging around old graves, maybe our friends at Galentron finally decided having her running around as a loose cannon was too risky.

  My eyes sting. I’m trying not to panic.

  Excusing myself from the living room, I head into the kitchen before Zach sees me close to a nervous breakdown.

  I can’t expose my son to this crap.

  He’s too sensitive as it is. He picks up on things far too easily.

  I couldn’t leave him behind in Spokane, no, but I’ll be damned if I let the darkness here touch him.

  It would only scare him, and scare me. After I failed to protect Deanna...I have to protect my sweet, bright boy, in all his soft, shy innocence.

  Sighing, I want to start unpacking to distract myself, but the second I open the suitcase, a little black box comes tumbling out of the inside pocket.

  Deep breath. I’m so not breaking down over this stupid thing. Again.

  What was I even thinking, bringing it along for the ride? Bringing it here?

  It’s the stress, I tell myself, sinking down on the edge of the bed. I curl forward with my arms pressed hard against my stomach and my head low.

  Stress, confusion, fear for Deanna, and all the hard, angry, lonely emotions wrapped up in that dusty little black velvet box that’s so old the soft outer surface has started wearing off.

  I can’t even stand to open it, to look at the gleam of silver and diamond inside, to remember the broken promise that ring represents.

  Swearing under my breath, I fight back my tears with all the stubborn strength I’ve built as a single mom raising a little boy for seven damn years all by myself.

  Then I snatch up the box and shove it back into the suitcase, out of sight.

  Out of mind? I wish.

  * * *

  Eight Years Ago

  I wonder if this is what dying feels like.

  Pain bursting everywhere, the smell of my own blood, the metallic taste in my mouth.

  And Leo cradling me so tight when I can’t hold myself up, when all my strength is gone and bleeding out of me all over the floor, but he’s grasping me like he can hold me together in one piece if he just loves me hard enough.

  “You’ll be all right,” he growls, staring down at me with so much faith, desperation, and a million conflicting emotions in his eyes.

  His eyes are the strangest shade I’ve ever seen, but that’s just another thing I love about him.

  If you look at them dead-on, they’re dark, almost mocha. But when the light catches them, then there’s hints of violet, crystal and luminous, like an amethyst on a moonless night.

  Those eyes anchor me in place now. Those arms keep me alive.

  I think if he wasn’t holding on to me, I’d just slip away and maybe never wake up.

  Part of me isn’t sure I want to.

  Not when my father’s dead body lies only five feet away, his feet protruding at this sickening angle. And the blood on Leo’s hands is only partly mine.

  The other blood...it’s spattered across Leo’s cheek, the front of his shirt, the hands he holds me with so gently as he swallows tight. He presses his forehead to mine, resolve firming in his gaze, in the tight line of his jaw.

  I don’t know how to fee
l.

  Just three minutes ago, my father’s hands were around my throat, choking me until I couldn’t breathe and stars burst across my vision, and I realized the man who’s always controlled my entire life was about to end it.

  My head keeps ringing from the vase he smashed against my skull.

  And the worst part is, Leo needs to leave.

  I know it even before he brushes my hair back, easing me against his chest.

  “Hold on for me, Rissa,” he murmurs, that thunder voice gentle, pleading.

  I try to nod. He’s so handsome even now, racked with guilt and purpose, his face cut in square regal lines and his hair a dark sweep across his brow, raw strength in every line of him. “I love you—I’ll always love you. Hold on. Wait for me. I have to stop this shit. I have to...”

  “N-no.” I can barely get the words out. I’m weak, but I manage to lift a shaking hand, reaching for him. “It’s...th-the risk...it’s too much. L-Leo, if...if they find out…they’ll…th-they’ll…”

  I can’t say it. I don’t need to. I think he knows.

  His smile is sad yet brave, so brave, and I realize he’s already accepted his fate.

  That’s one thing I love about him, and it’s the same thing I hate about him.

  He’s a noble man.

  So noble he’ll sacrifice himself, if it means doing what he thinks is right to save me, to save this town.

  He cups a large, weathered hand to my cheek. He’s such a beast, my gentle giant, full of so much passion I never thought he could hurt anyone. Even though security is kinda his job.

  But after tonight...

  He looks at the maid behind me, helping hold me up, his eyes pure violet-black fire. “Get her out of town,” he says. “Out of Heart’s Edge. You, too. Get as far away as you can.”

  “Leo, Leo, come with us...” I whimper.

  He protests softly at first, says a few things that just wash over me, tries to tear himself away. But I’ll never, ever forget his last words as he comes back and holds me again so, so tight.

  “I’m already damned,” he says. “Already going to jail. Let me do one last thing right before they find me and throw away the key. I have to, Rissa. For the town. But if you’ll wait for me, I’ll come back. Somehow, some fucking way, I swear I will. I’ll always come back for you, woman, no matter how much hell it takes.”

  I try to clutch at him with my blood-streaked, shaking fingers.

  But he’s already pulling away, already gone, even as the maid standing nearby gestures and hisses for him to hurry, even as I hear my father’s secretary in the hall, even as the howl of ambulances coming to save my life moves in and it’s already too late to save my father’s.

  And too late to save Leo.

  No matter his promises, no matter if I believe them...

  He’s leaving me now.

  I have no way of knowing, in that moment, what’s to come, but I feel it.

  It’s deep in my shivering, hurting bones and the fading sweet heat of his Hercules bear hug.

  I’ll never see Leo Regis again.

  * * *

  Present

  “Mom?”

  I jerk up from staring blankly at the webbing of the suitcase’s inside pocket, my hand still tucked inside, the velvet box clutched against my palm. I suck in a harsh breath, my chest tight, as my vision re-focuses.

  Zach stands in the doorway, clutching the stack of takeout menus that were tucked in the utensil drawer of the cabin’s kitchen.

  I force a smile, holding out both hands for him.

  “What’s popping, ZZ Top? Need something?”

  He wrinkles his nose.

  “Don’t call me that,” he says, but it’s a halfhearted protest as he bounces over to settle down next to me and tuck against my side, fitting himself into my arms. “Can we order pizza tonight?”

  “Sure. But no olives.”

  He sticks his tongue out at me. “Olives are the best part.”

  “Which is why you get your own pizza, and I’ll just have to live without the best part.” I pluck the top menu from the stack, looking down at the prices and flipping it over to check the phone number.

  Zach watches me curiously. He’s got round, inquisitive eyes. Someday, he’ll grow into them, but right now, when he’s this small, they only make him look even more like a puppy. Though I’ve never seen any puppy with his unique shade.

  Mocha in the dark.

  Brilliant amethyst in the light.

  A legacy he’ll never know.

  I’m just glad most of the time his glasses hide them, keeping the color murky and unclear. If anyone in Heart’s Edge ever got a good, solid look at him...dear God, the things they’d say.

  Would some angry people even pin the sins of his father on my sweet boy?

  It’s like he senses my thoughts. He puts his pint-sized hand against my arm and murmurs, “Mom? Why are you so sad? Is it Auntie Deanna?”

  I stiffen, trying not to let him feel it when it might upset him.

  Instead, I plaster on a motherly smile for him, finding it in me somewhere because I always find something buried deep in my heart for him. That’s what happens when someone calls you mom.

  “Yeah,” I answer faintly. “I’m just worried about her, but you shouldn’t be. We’ll find her sooner or later and she’ll be okay. Soon we’ll have a whole team of pros helping track her down, don’t you worry.”

  “I know,” he says. I hear the conviction in his tone only the very young can have. “But Mom, if she’s going to be okay...why are you so sad? Isn’t this like coming home?”

  I flinch. This time, I can’t hide it from him, and he makes a soft, apologetic sound and snuggles closer to me.

  Heart’s Edge hasn’t been home for almost a freaking decade.

  I don’t know what he overheard, how he knows it was home once a long lost time ago. Some little thing I said to Deedee on the phone, maybe.

  Zach’s a smart boy. Crazy observant. I just hadn’t realized he’d figured it out.

  This isn’t just visiting a weird little mountain town where his aunt lives.

  This is a homecoming I never wanted.

  But I press a kiss to the top of his head, wrap my arm around his shoulders, and pull him into a hug. “It’s not home, sweetie,” I murmur. “But we can try to have some fun while we’re here, once your Auntie Deanna’s back safe.”

  And we will find her safe, I tell myself. Galentron’s already taken too much from me.

  It won’t devour my sister, too.

  I swear, I won’t let it dismember my happy little family.

  2

  It’s Just the End (Nine)

  Heart’s Edge has a pulse.

  And I know when that pulse is agitated. It’s like I have my fingers pressed against the throat of the town constantly, feeling its heartbeat racing. Tonight, it’s pounding with adrenaline and fear and keyed-up tension.

  Something’s happened, and I can almost smell it in the air like ozone.

  Death’s come back to this town.

  It’s prowling the streets, looking for an unsuspecting victim. Or has it found one already?

  I crouch on a small bluff overlooking the town’s twinkling lights, hiding myself in the shadows of the trees. Not that anyone would think to look up and see me here. They never do.

  Every day, every night, this place goes about its business so complacently, never aware I’m always here. Always watching. Always waiting.

  What I’m waiting for, I don’t even fucking know anymore.

  But I think there’s a piece of it here.

  I watch Sheriff Wentworth Langley’s small silhouette trundling around the wreckage of Deanna Bell’s candy store, stringing up bumblebee-yellow crime scene tape around the building and its parking lot in the fading twilight glow.

  What’s strange is that he’s the only person there.

  It’s too early for reinforcements from Missoula and Spokane. I know damn well Langley and his part-time deput
ies can’t handle whatever ill wind is blowing into Heart’s Edge—and the good news is they have the sense to know it, too.

  But he shouldn’t be getting into his patrol car and driving away.

  Someone—Hawthorne or Sanchez, one of his usual guys—should be on patrol tonight.

  So I wait.

  I wait till nightfall sinks deeper, and no one will notice me. I also wait to see if another pair of headlights will pull up in one of the town’s rare police cruisers.

  Nothing.

  Something’s off.

  And considering Sweeter Things has only been open for three weeks, and considering who runs it...fuck.

  Yeah, I’m worried.

  I’m just glad that whatever trouble’s surfacing, she’s not here to get caught between a wrecking ball and a hard place. That’s my job.

  Once I’m sure no one’s coming, I move, taking a second to make sure my hood’s pulled up, my face covered.

  I take the short way, dropping down the side of the bluff and catching protruding roots and crags to slow my fall, swinging down in short leaps. I know these mountains and forests and bluffs like the back of my hand. Never fail to find my way even in the night.

  I fit in better out here than I ever would in town.

  Even if it means turning into an animal that prowls around in the dark.

  Hell, maybe I am an animal, after all this time. Just another beast, drawn by the faint whiff of blood on the air.

  Gone feral, back to the wild, out here alone.

  I hit the ground in a thicket of trees at the foot of the bluff and linger there while a truck sweeps along the highway, headlights leading it, then vanishing only to turn in at Brody’s. Probably one of the pub’s usual evening guests.

  The moment the light disappears, I’m vaulting the guardrail and sprinting across the street, then ducking around the side of the building out of sight. I pause just past the perimeter of the crime scene tape.