Chapter 1

1

REED

“ W hat can I get ya, hon?” the elderly waitress asks while she fiddles with the yellow-paged notebook. A crooked nameplate hangs from her lilac shirt reading, Debby —an old-timey name for an old-timey woman.

“Burger and fries will do. Toss in a tall glass of soda with lots of ice. Unless you’ve got something stronger.” Cola ain’t gonna cut it. Not after what I just went through. I’m a damned king among paupers in this diner, but my sins are lying in wait at the bottom of a bottle.

“Stronger?” She brings a wrinkled finger under her chin and looks at the ceiling while she thinks. “There might be some cooking wine in the back if that’s your sorta thing. Other than that, we’re a dry bar.”

“No sneaky gin under the table? Or a little whiskey to give the coffee an extra kick?” I wave the idea of wine off reluctantly. It isn’t my beverage of choice, and with the awkward glare and shaking of her head, I know my wishes won’t be answered tonight. “Soda will do.”

“Coming right up,” she says, scribbling my order down on her pad and slipping behind the counter. She attaches the sheet with my order onto a line for the cook to collect before heading to the other end of the bar and talking to a rotund man.

The sack of lard sits at the end of the table, with a goofy grin splashed across his patchy bearded face. When he isn’t fixated on shoveling forkfuls of bacon into his mouth, his beady little eyes are set firmly in my direction.

The first instance of doubt creeps in. Does he know? Does he recognize my face? No, of course not. He can’t. I just got here, and the news wouldn’t have traveled this fast.

But I understand where the nerves come from. A deep, forgotten place that I’ve long ago abandoned in the darkest recesses of my mind. After the hell I unleashed in Philadelphia, there’s no surprise that any prying eye will make me jittery. But what if he does know? What if he’s waiting for me to slip, lower my guard?

My hand slides under the table, instinctively reaching for the gun strapped to an ankle holster. Still there, cold to the touch, ready to be fired again.

Calm down, Reed. You’re getting worked up over nothing. It’s a short stay in Aurora. A few days at max before you take that big, beautiful boat onto the waters and disappear to some beautiful Caribbean Island.

You can do this. Just breathe.

A quick scan of the diner sets my mind at ease. It’s not just the lard sack at the end of the bar; all the patrons have a strange gaze directed toward me. It’s counter-intuitive to think more eyes means less danger, but in my case, it shouldn’t take a genius to figure out why they’re all gawking.

I’m a new face in a town with fewer than a thousand people. But I can’t let it lull me into a false sense of security. Anyone in here can recognize me, call the cops, and get my ass hauled off to prison.

The fat man raises a hand in a feeble wave. My neck crooks, and I shoot him an awkward glare. Still, I return the wave with the hand that moments ago fingered the weapon I’d have happily taken his life with.

“Excuse me, miss. Why’s that man staring at me?” I ask Debby as she returns to my side of the bar.

“Because we’ve been waiting for you.” She raises a brow of her own and crosses her arms over her breasts. “You are him , aren’t you?”

“I’m somebody, sure, but I can’t say I’m him. Not until I know who—” The sound of a ringing bell cuts me off. Another set of patrons enter.

An older man my age, with a mean look on his weathered face, and a woman—no, a goddess—walking beside him. She walks with a youthful bounce in her step and an eager lust for life twinkling in two blue pools she calls eyes. A blonde river of perfectly sculpted hair runs down her delicate shoulders, pooling near the small of her back. Every hopping step makes her thick thighs and voluptuous ass bounce.

She’s all smiles from the moment she enters, and even as she takes her seat opposite the angry-looking man, there’s no hint of her happiness dwindling.

One glance and my cock’s throbbing. Another, and it’s knocking on the underside of the counter. From the very first sighting, I was hooked. A moth to a flame. A lamb to the slaughter.

“We’ve been waiting these past two weeks for your arrival,” Debby says to fill my silence. “We’ve missed three Sunday sermons because you haven’t showed. You should be happy old Walt is giving you a wave and not tearing you a new asshole for being a no-show.”

Sunday sermons? What the fuck is she going on about? I can hardly think, let alone play into the old-timer’s bullshit.

My goddess leans forward, elbows digging into the table to speak with the old man in front of her. The action squeezes her tits together, and they’re practically spilling out of her low-cut powder blue top.

Yeah, this isn’t good.

One look at her is all it takes for me to know I’m about to make a terrible mistake. But if any of Debby’s spiritual hoo-ha is real, maybe this is the good Lord above sending me a message. Something along the lines of time to settle down, kid . You’ve done enough living for one lifetime. Take her and run.

“Yes, of course. I’m the new priest. I was hoping no one would recognize me for a while still.” My eyes widen at my own response. “You know, while I get acquainted with this lovely little town of yours.”

What are you doing? Don’t play into this bullshit. You need to get out of here.

I’m not seriously thinking of going through with this, am I? Pretending to be the town savior when I’m in town to hang low because of what I did to those mob goons back in Philly.

“Well, you best be ready for Sunday, or you’re gonna cause riots around town.” Debby waves a gnarled, wrinkled finger in my direction.

Looking over to see her running circles through her hair, with that white-toothed brimming smile, my answer is set in stone. How can I run when the woman of my dreams is sitting two tables over?

The older man stands and makes his way to the end of the counter. She eases back in her chair, and her eyes turn to me. Two giant blue marbles twinkle with warm delight. Her joyful smile twists into a naughty grin, and she raises two fingers to wave.

“Oh, I’ll be ready. Don’t you worry about that,” I say with the tactical precision of a trained liar.

What’s with these people waving at me?

Still, I return a dumbfounded, half-assed wave while I drink in her body. Undressing her layers, piece by piece, in my mind until I’ve sculpted a near-perfect image of her pale, naked body in front of me.

The things I will do to you, pretty girl, would make God blush.

And I can’t wait.