Chapter 2

TWO

I stumbled down the stairs, fuzzy from the late drive into Crescent Cove. I'd gotten about four hours of sleep before my father started knocking around in his office.

I supposed I should be grateful that he'd waited until after ten. The Masterson house was full of early risers. I'd always been the black sheep there. Hell, I was the black sheep in many ways.

I scraped my hand over my beard. It was getting a little out of control. Had I even brought my clippers with me? Fuck.

That was a problem for after coffee. I winced as I neared the bottom of the stairs. Staying at my childhood home was a lot different these days. I peeked around the corner to see a trio of kids at the wide dining room table.

The table that would be filled to bursting with people for the monthly dinner tomorrow night.

Which was one of the reasons I was in town.

The other was a signing at a small, local bookstore. It just seemed easier to stay in Crescent Cove instead of hurrying back to the city where I spent most of my time.

I used to split my time between Los Angeles and New York City, but I'd sold my condo in LA for startup money for my new publishing house. And I was rapidly flying my way through that startup money.

"There you are. I thought I was going to have to send your father in to rouse you."

I gave my mother a wan smile. JoAnn Masterson was fit and didn't look her age in the least. Retirement was treating her just fine these days, that was for sure. Her sugared chestnut hair was pulled up on top of her head with a neon yellow tie that matched her yoga pants.

A bit eye-searing for this early in the day.

Thankfully, her oversized sweatshirt was in a more sedate gray.

Knowing my duty, I went over to kiss her cheek before disappearing into the kitchen for some lifeblood. Not quite like my character Moksha. I didn't eat souls, but coffee sometimes felt like it was returning mine to its body.

My mother's coffee was a wonder. I drew in a deep whiff of Brewed Awakening's dark roast with a sigh. I'd have to remember to pick up a few bags of her roasted beans before I left. It was even better than the cafés in Chelsea.

Cheaper too.

"Uncle Penn!"

I turned to find Carrington behind me. Her waist-length blond hair was tangled around her shoulders and down her back. A smear of something that looked like chalk or maybe pastels covered her cheek. "Hey, Care Bear." I reached out and swiped my thumb out to get the powder off her freckled cheeks. "What's shaking?"

She wrinkled her nose and rubbed at her cheek, then looked down at her hand. "Ugh. I was finishing a project for art class. Wanna see?"

"Of course I do." I snagged a muffin off the counter, also from Brewed Awakening, and ripped off the cellophane before following her out of the kitchen.

It was my job to make sure my nieces and nephews kept art in their lives.

Carrington climbed onto her chair, her long legs bent in impossible angles that only a child could manage. She whipped her hair out of her face and did a few more scrawls with the soft pastels.

"I thought you were a markers girl."

Carrington rolled her eyes. "I only use markers for coloring. I got these from Miss Colette's shop. I love that I can smudge all my colors together better."

I looked down at my own fingers, which were stained with black. I knew a thing or two about smudging myself. I tended to use inks, brushes, and Microns in my work.

I refocused my attention on Carrington's artwork. She was my middle brother Travis's kid and had been the sole focus of all of us for a damn long time. She was only one of what felt like a dozen kids in the family now.

But she was the eldest and I sympathized with her the most.

Theo, my brother Murphy's kid, snuck under my arm. "I want to see too."

I ruffled his blond hair and draped my arm around him to let him in to see.

Carrington rolled her eyes. "Fine."

Theo frowned. "Is it a cow?"

"No!" Carrington sighed. "It's a spotted horse."

"Obviously," I said encouragingly.

She beamed at me. "We met horses out at the orchard last weekend with Gams and Pops."

"Did you now?"

"Yeah, we picked apples since dad is still on a shoot in…where is he again, Gams?"

"Alaska."

"Right. He's doing a shoot for some clothing store." She snorted. "My dad is not the wood chopping kinda dude."

I laughed. She was right. My brother, the model and sometimes now actor, was not the outdoors type. He could build a damn fine bookcase though. He'd stayed at my place for a long weekend and helped me redo my office in Chelsea with huge custom shelves. It had mostly been to show off the model characters that my old publisher had commissioned for me when I'd first exploded onto the graphic novel scene.

I'd made them a damn lot of money.

When I'd found out just how much, and how little was flowing down to me—well, there had been a lot of changes back then.

But I'd made enough to buy the rights to Knights of Chaos , and I'd been one of the first indie graphic novelists to make a shit-load of money.

Dragging myself back, I realized I hadn't told Carrington how amazing she was. "Theo, your cousin definitely got the proportions right for a horse." I grabbed a sheet of paper from under the pile of mayhem that was the dining room table. "This is a cow."

I did a quick sketch of a cow, emphasizing the shorter legs and more rotund body than a horse—and because it was me, he was a little demonic looking. I quickly added a few dashes of red from the pastels for the eyes.

"Okay, maybe a demon cow."

Theo took the paper. "Wow. Demon cow. I like it!" He rushed off on his chunky five-year-old legs to show my mother.

She looked over Theo's head and gave me a hard look.

Okay, so maybe I shouldn't have drawn a demon cow for my nephew. He'd be talking about it all day.

I just shrugged and grinned at her.

She rolled her eyes, much like Carrington, and oohed and ahhed over the drawing appropriately. "Maybe we should make an angel cow to go with the demon one, yes?"

"Maybe," I answered and sat down to draw with my niece and nephew.

Surprised that the drawing time with the kids boosted me from the stress-filled exhaustion I'd arrived with, I ended up spending an extra hour with them.

Harmony, Murphy's youngest, woke from a nap and all of us cleaned up and had lunch.

Peanut butter and jelly with Goldfish had never tasted so good.

I helped my mother clean up in the kitchen.

"What's on the agenda today?"

"I have to head to Every Line and make sure the supply for the signing came in. Need me to do anything in town?"

"If you could stop at the market, I'll text you a list."

"Sure. No problem. What's the family dinner this time?"

"Since it's finally cooling off, I figured I'd do a roast."

My heart kicked. "With carrots and potatoes, and those little sweet onions?"

"Yes, Penn."

"Yessss." I laughed and kissed my mom then I put the last dish into the dishwasher. "I'm going to take a quick shower, so don't start this right away."

"You got it." She brushed my overlong hair away from my face. "Maybe you should get a haircut in town."

"I like it long." I could put it in a ponytail when I was working.

She sighed. "You look like you should be in a band."

"I always wanted to be in a band."

"Only if it was a sad band. You and your Leonard Cohen phase."

I laughed. "Hey, it made me learn guitar. Always gets the chicks."

And not that I'd tell my mother, but portraits hadn't been a bad thing in my younger days, either. Not just faces.

"The devil is always living in those brown eyes, Penn."

"Not lately. I'm always working now that I started Duality Press."

She grabbed my hand before I could slip out of the kitchen. "Is everything all right? I thought things were going well."

I squeezed her hand. "Just growing pains." At least I hoped it was growing pains. Running my own business with other artists was a lot different from doing my own graphic novels. There was much more at stake when it wasn't just me.

And because my mother was a pro at seeing too much, I put a bit more effort in a smile. "Send me that list."

She sighed. "I have most of what we need, but I forgot a few things."

"You?"

She smacked my hand. "Yes, me. We're actually having everyone except Trav come to this dinner, so I need more veggies."

"Got it."

I waved to the kids who were now happily watching Bluey and headed upstairs. Knowing my mother, I made sure to get right in the shower or she'd start the dishwasher and steal my hot water.

Ten minutes later, I finished in the bathroom and padded down the hall to the bedroom I stayed in when I visited. Most of the time, I crashed at my brother Travis's place when I made an extended stay in the Cove. He had a few bedrooms, and it was much quieter than the Masterson hub.

But Travis was still on a job and Carrington would want to come with me, and I wasn't in the headspace to care for an almost teenager right at that moment.

So, the twin bed of the guest bedroom would have to do. Even if my feet hung off the bed. I wasn't the tallest of the Masterson males, but I was still a bit over six feet tall.

I was pretty sure my mother had put a twin bed in so we weren't too comfortable, thereby extending our stay. I couldn't blame her.

I flipped my suitcase open and pulled out one of my four pairs of black jeans. Since September was finally starting to show a little chill, I pulled out a dark green Henley.

I just managed to get my jeans buttoned when a beefy hand hit the door before opening it.

I gave my dad an arched brow as he walked in without invitation.

Another reason not to stay in the house too long—privacy was non-existent.

Hank Masterson was definitely the blueprint for most of the men in my family. He was barrel-chested with a shock of close cut white wavy hair and topped almost 6'5.

Unfortunately, I was the beanpole next to most of them. I did get my dad's curls and thick beard at least. I was fairly sure there'd be no hair loss in this family. We all had a thick head of it.

"What's up, Dad?"

"I heard you're going into town."

I grinned. Another fun part of being home—I was the errand boy. "I am. Need something?"

"You going to Every Line?"

I nodded. Word spread fast. I was fairly sure my parents shared a brain—or at least an active text thread.

"Airplane glue. She's got a little section of model trains and planes."

"I think I can handle that."

He rubbed his big hands together. "And maybe a case of that Firefly cider from the market?"

The close by Brothers Three Orchard's steadily growing line of ciders was a favorite for many of us Mastersons—hell, most of the Cove, to be honest. We all loved to support local businesses. Since there would be a bunch of us here for the family dinner, I made a mental note to make it two and add a few bottles of wine to that list. I was pretty sure no one was pregnant at the moment, so most would be able to enjoy an adult beverage.

I pulled on my shirt and pushed up the sleeves. "Anything else?"

My father was peering around me to my bag.

He lowered his voice. "You wouldn't be hiding smokes in there, would you?"

"I would never bring smokes into this house."

My dad narrowed his eyes at me. "I'm not saying I don't have a half pack in my glovebox. If you're quick enough before I leave."

He hightailed it out of my room and down the stairs, far faster than a man of his stature should be able to do. I shook my head and grabbed my phone, wallet, and keys.

I was about to leave when I dashed back to my bag and grabbed my travel art supplies. Maybe I'd get some sketches done while I was out. I'd been drawing since I could pick up a pencil, but character studies kept me tight and the ideas flowing in between editions.

My fingers tightened on the black leather case as that reminded me of a few rather tepid reviews I'd gotten on my last release. I was paying too much attention to the business and not as much on my storytelling lately. And my more ardent fans were letting me know it was showing.

I'd definitely coasted on the last volume. Somehow I was on volume thirty for Knights of Chaos . I wrote longer form stories than what people would assume from the much more well known comics out in the world.

I wrote and illustrated my series, unlike most comic artists. Graphic novels were more involved and some of my stories took the better part of a year to write and illustrate.

The last one had not—which was probably why it sucked.

I took my time tying my boots to give my dad time to find the pack. I'd quit years ago, but when stress was really high, I found myself craving one.

That pack was half gone and I'd only bought it last week.

Not great.

I tucked the case under my arm and left before I got too in my head about that again. I was still working on what was next for Moksha and today was not the day for ruminating on it.

My black Jag sat in the driveway. My dad was already gone. I'd had the car for twelve years and I barely had twenty thousand miles on it. Most of them coming up here. There was really no need for a car in the city—but man, did I love to drive her.

I slipped inside, where the inside was as jet black as the outside. Curious, I checked the glovebox and found two missing from the already dwindling pack.

The old man did give me life, and it was his funeral if my mom found out.

I backed out of the drive and made my way around the curvy lanes and streets that made up one of the older suburbs of Crescent Cove. It was an eight-minute drive into Main Street. The foot traffic was high since it was such a nice day.

September was capricious in Central New York—especially late September. And since it was a weekday and I'd seen my niece and nephew at my mom's house, I assumed it was one of those half day or teacher day deals.

Instead of trying to figure out off-street parking and hoping someone didn't mark up my Jag, I turned into the lot behind Brewed Awakening. And because I was there, I snuck in for an Americano before I walked down to Every Line A Story.

The trees were starting to drop their leaves and the air off the water was crisp enough to remind me it was Fall. It was still a bit warm since New York could never decide just how warm it would get by midday.

The pedestrian traffic was high, but far more sedate than what I was used to. I slowed my usual brisk walk and forced myself to look around instead of rush along. I took in the sweet vanilla scent of the bakery with its window full of fall treats.

Cupcakes decorated with leaves and pumpkins in traditional oranges and yellows along with pastel pink versions of the same. And because it was Crescent Cove, there were a few crescent moons as well as baby-themed cookies.

As usual, Sugar Rush had a line to the door for treats. If it calmed down by the time I left the bookstore, I'd pick up some sweets for the house.

A few of the smaller stores had come and gone since last I'd been in town. Lately, I'd just been doing my familial duty with the family dinner and rushing back to Chelsea to work.

I could only get away with missing one or two before my mom gave me shit about it.

I paused at the sandwich board outside of Every Line. It had a list of upcoming events, including my signing. I'd convinced Ryan Moon to come with me for the first printed edition for her web comic. She'd been one of my first artists to come on board with Duality Press.

Her significant other had been a ball-buster with her contract. Helped that he was a lawyer with a sharp eye. He'd even pointed out a few things I hadn't noticed in the boilerplate contract.

I wasn't trying to screw my people out of funds—I was far too aware of what that was like, but she was an untried artist. But I'd taken the chance on her, just like Ryan had taken the chance on me, and we'd done very well together.

So much so that the digital had demanded print. It reminded me of my old days of hoarding Garfield comics. I turned to the window, which had half a dozen of my Knights of Chaos graphic novels, as well as the first edition of Ryan's charming fox and cat duo.

A woman with lemon blond hair was idly picking her way through a spinner of postcards. She was petite and wore one of those floral—nope, strawberries—dresses that had taken over this summer. This one was a frothy pink that reminded me of a champagne cocktail with the playful berries print all over.

She moved to the other side of the spinner, and I got a look at her face, and it was a punch. She was a mix of girl next door with the freckles dusting her nose and cheeks, but the very delectable top of the dress showed off not-so-petite breasts.

But the surprise was the chest plate tattoo that didn't exactly match the rest of her. It was delicately done with a cameo in the center. Except when you looked a little closer, there was a Mona Lisa smile on the tattooed woman's face.

One that reminded me of secrets and that that indefinable female essence that made men forever insane.

When I dragged my gaze back up to her face, she caught me looking. Her full lips quirked up into a half smile. Her green eyes were darkly fringed and amused before those dark lashes lowered and reminded me the secrets of her cameo. A sweep of lemon-colored bangs hid most of her brows and I had a feeling those brows were just as emotive as her eyes.

She melted away into the store, and I quickly went to the door to follow her, but she was gone. I went down the aisles at the front of the store. I was tall enough to be able to see her, but she'd vanished.

A creak of the stairs at the back of the store gave me a clue to where she had gone to, but Colette Edison, the owner of the establishment spotted me, and she rushed forward.

"Penn! I didn't know you were coming in today."

I craned my neck toward the back of the store, then gave up and smiled down at the stunning brunette. Her bright golden eyes edged toward whiskey and she always had a ready smile. She wore a similar dress to my mystery lady, this time in lavender with matching darker plum flowers, and she was far lusher than the blond.

But there was no fist strike with Colette. She was beyond beautiful, but there had been something about the other woman. Something I hadn't felt in a damn long time.

She frowned up at me. "Something wrong?"

"There was a blond when I came in…" I shook my head. Now I was going to sound like a creep. "Never mind."

Her wide lips pulled into a smirk. "You crushing on one of my customers, Penn?"

I felt my face heat. "I've never seen her before."

"Lots of new faces in the Cove these days. I didn't see her though."

"Do you have a back door to this place?"

She frowned. "No." She did a slow turn, scanning the store. "I haven't seen anyone, to be honest." She faced me again. "You catching a ghost?"

I laughed. "My parents told me about the ghost action out at the old mansion. The town has been talking about it since Nolan bought it." I lowered my voice. "We used to go out there in the summer. Me and my brothers would try to freak each other out."

"Did you ever see her?"

"Harriette? Nah." It was easier to say no, when I did, in fact, see her a few times wandering on the rocky beach. Back then, I'd been young and dumb and probably drunk or high.

At least that was what I told myself.

Her lips twitched. "I don't believe you."

I laughed. "Maybe she was a harbinger to what drove me to scary stories."

"Now that's a good story to tell during the signing. I can't convince you to read for the people a little?"

I shook my head. "No, that is not my talent. Besides, there's not a chunk of text to read such as a book has. A lot of my drawings tell the story."

"The prologue is pretty damn scary."

"Did you read it?"

She nodded. "Freaked me right out, but the artwork is wow. It makes everything even worse."

"Thanks. Speaking of, I stopped in to check and make sure the boxes arrived safely."

She led me over to the window. "I put half of the stock up front to lure people in and the rest is on the shelves at the back." Then she nodded to the back of the store where there was a step up to a large picture window. "I'm going to set up you and Ryan here."

I climbed the two steps to where a huge, battered leather couch took up most of the space. It was perfect for settling in to read for a few hours in the waning sunlight.

I glanced out the back, surprised to see a lot of the trees had been cleared out. "When did that happen?"

She followed my gaze. "I miss all the trees," she said wistfully. "Crescent Cove is growing by leaps and bounds. They're making a new park for the kids back there and just beyond will be a new development."

"Wow."

"Progress."

"Evidently."

"Anyway, I'm going to move the couch out and will set you guys up at tables."

I'd been in smaller venues, but not for a long time.

"I really appreciate you doing this. I'm clawing for every dime I can to expand the store. We've had a ton of interest for you and Ryan to come in for the signing. I'm hoping that will expand to a few other sales."

"I'm sure it will. I'm just happy we have a space for the books somewhere in the Cove."

"Yes, but you could have done this at the library easier."

I sighed. "I could, but I love this place. And so does my dad. He requested some special modeling glue for his new hobby."

"Hank has me special ordering planes, trains, and the occasional car. C'mon, I'll show you where it is."

I followed her over to the small area of puzzles, games, and the models my father was obsessed with. I don't know how he put the damn small things together with his big ham hands.

I glanced up the stairs that I was sure my mystery woman had escaped to. The faint squeak of old floorboards tempted me to go up and take a look for myself, but my pocket buzzed with a call.

I checked, then I sighed when I saw the readout. My business partner and best friend didn't call often. We lived by text and email. "I have to take this."

"No problem." She handed me over the glue. "I'll catch you next time on this."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

I snagged the glue and tucked it in my pocket. "Thanks." Then I lifted the phone to my ear as I hustled out of the store. "Hey, Larsen. Tell me there isn't a fire."

"No can do, friend." Larsen's deep voice came over the line. "Priscilla upped the cost of printing again."

"Motherfucker. She's bleeding us dry." I scanned the sidewalk and found a bench between two clothing stores. I got out of the flow of foot traffic and sat down, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees as I stared down between my boots. A trio of yellow leaves were chewed up from hundreds of shoes. Kinda felt like me. "How bad?"

He quoted a number that made my stomach drop.

"Jesus."

"I know, brother. It ain't good." Larsen's voice was heavy with every ounce of fatigue that I echoed. "I have some names of other printers we might be able to use."

Not at all what I wanted to do this afternoon, but there was not any way around it. Even if I had to deal with it in the middle of damn Main Street.

I sighed. "Lay it on me."