It had now been about three years since P.J. had settled into Port Harbor, and he was still adjusting to his new life. It hadn’t been easy. No, easy would be a real goddamn stretch. It had been nearly impossible to put up with the demands of an ordinary life. A few months in, and P.J. had begun to seriously doubt his decision to straighten up his life. But he had still not gotten over the circumstances of Beast’s death. The last words that Beast had uttered to him in that tortured voice, the way his arm had flexed in the chair, the crackling, hissing sound of an electrical feed gone wrong…the smell of burning flesh. Deep in his heart, P.J. knew that he owed it to Beast to give himself a fair shot at an average everyday life. If it didn’t work out, it didn’t work out. P.J. had been determined to give it at least through that first winter before he bailed.
But by then, George Pappas decided to put his Variety Market and Gun Shop up for sale and move to Boca Raton. There he would spend the rest of his days in a senior gated community, driving his golf cart and playing bingo. The variety store had held zero interest for P.J., but Mr. Pappas would not separate the two businesses and P.J. had wanted the gun shop badly.
P.J. used his lottery winnings to make a cash offer on the properties, and soon found himself to be the owner and operator of George’s Variety and Gun shop. The market part…P.J. hadn’t known anything about, but it had already been an established business and a staple in the community for many years. George Pappas had taken the phrase serving customers’ needs to a whole new level. The inventory pretty much included everything but the kitchen sink, and for that, there were catalogues. P.J. had decided to keep the small staff on payroll. They knew what they were doing and could run the place on their own. The gun shop was where P.J. spent most of his time. Surrounded by deadly weapons was P.J.’s happy place.
P.J.’s thoughts came reeling back to the present when his cell phone began to buzz with a text message from Layla… almost there. P.J. looked at the time and shook his head. When the sound of an approaching vehicle drew his attention to the dirt road in front of him, P.J. let out a groan.
A Prius.
Why did the new tenants have to own a goddamn Prius?
In his mind, the hybrid vehicle screamed politically correct and that was all he needed to know.
P.J. was hoping for a Ram truck, or a jeep, or something more …manly.
Way to fuck up my mojo, Layla.
P.J. hoped that his new neighbor was not going to be some uptight, pain in the ass, who would give him a tough time. And to P.J.’s mind, anyone driving a hybrid car screamed trouble. He stood in the deep shadows of the front porch with his feet wide apart, his arms flexed and folded over his hard chest. P.J. narrowed his eyes as he watched the vehicle slow its speed to a hesitant crawl, pull over and park a few yards away from hi. When the car door opened P.J almost choked down the cigarette butt that was hanging from his mouth. Because the chick who walked out of that car was definitely not at all the uptight soccer mom that he had feared. Truth be told, P.J. wasn’t exactly sure what she was.
The moment that Juliet pulled up in front of the rental house a surge of relief came over her. The home was a heavily built structure. The large hewn logs and thick windows gave it a look of impenetrability. The cabin sat on the edge of a heavily wooded lot, and there were two huge pine trees that stood like sentries at the edge of the front yard. Their thickly gnarled roots poked through the brown grass and twisted like routes on a map leading home. Heavy cobblestoned steps led up to a sturdy porch. It ran the length of the house and was covered in pine needles. Best of all, there was a large swing that hung from four solid looking chains screwed into the porch roof. Its seat was covered with three faded, frayed, and lumpy cushions. As she stepped out of the car, Juliet was immediately struck by the cool, sharp, fresh air. Her first feeling was immediate and unmitigated joy.
This place was perfect, just what she needed and just what she had hoped for.
But then snap.
Of course, it was all too perfect to be true.
When Juliet saw the man step out from the shadows, looking all menacing and pissed off, she knew at once that she probably should have seriously reconsidered driving past those No Trespassing signs. Juliet’s GPS had been spotty, and she must have arrived at the wrong address. The owner of the property, the person who had promised to meet her, had been a woman.
And this guy, with his inked up arms, long, thick hair, herculean build, and menacing scowl was definitely all man.
“Sorry. I must have taken a wrong turn!” Juliet yelled out as she turned to go back into the car.
A deep masculine voice rang out to her. “You here to rent the cabin?”
P.J. moved across the porch and down the steps quickly. But he stopped several feet from her. He was not unaware of the intimidation factor of his looks, or the isolated location of
