DiscoverWrite Official

Chapter Author: @sinfiction

Genre: Dark Romance, Single Parent, Second Chance, Biker Romance

Word Count: 1005

Chapter Two: Shattered Glass

Luis

“Fuck.”

The damp fabric of my sweat-stained tank top clings to my body as I sit crouched beside the bike I’m working on.

Damn thing is a rush order, but the fuckin’ storm stole a big chunk of my worktime. So now here I am, the harsh SoCal sun beating down on me, the sickening humidity of the air post-storm making breathing a chore.

My eyes slide to the watch on my wrist—worn leather, cracked glass, and a U.S. Marines logo painted in enamel on the inside… it was my old man’s before he died, ten years ago.

But it’s mine now, and it tells me I can spare a couple minutes to break for a beer.

A long sigh escapes me as I sit back against my beat-up old toolbox—also my dad’s—and reach for the cooler sat beside me.

The ice is half-melted, but the beer is cold, and that’s what counts.

It still stings, knowing the old man is gone.

I’ve never been one to handle grief well. Never known how to deal with broken things I can’t fix with a wrench.

And my fucking downward spiral after my dad died cost me the love of my life.

If it weren’t for my brothers in The Angels, I’d be in the ground too. I’m sure of it.

My eyes flutter shut as I press the cool glass to my forehead, not bothered by the water droplets that roll down the bottle onto my skin.

After the day I’ve had, it feels good.

After a moment, I pop the cap against my calloused palm, the inviting scent of the hops immediately filling my nostrils.

I barely get the chance to lift the bottle to my lips before a shrill cry breaks the silent stillness of the desert.

Chapter Author: @yvelda

Genre: Dark Romance, Single Parent, Second Chance, Biker Romance

Word Count: 2044

Chapter One: Breaking Through

Rose

The sound of my sneakers hitting wet asphalt echoes off the brick buildings that line the darkened alley. My sneaker lands in a too-deep puddle, soaking my jeans halfway to the knee, but I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now than wet denim.

“Mommy, where are we going?” Selena, my ten-year-old daughter, muffles as she buries her face into my shoulder, and I squeeze her a little tighter. 

It’s hard enough running for your life, but to be carrying the only thing that makes your life worth living…

That’s a different hurdle to overcome. 

“Shh. Baby, we need to be quiet. Once we find a safe place, I’ll explain everything.” 

I can’t bring myself to tell her that her own father, the man that she cherishes, has sent his men after us to have us killed.

She’ll find out eventually, but…

Being dragged out of her bed at two in the morning is scary enough for her to go through.

I knew what I was getting into when I fell for Michael. 

He was your run-of-the-mill bad boy type. Slick, black hair, dressed to impress… and he held the attention of everyone in the bar where I was working.

He caught my attention immediately, but looking back, the nervous excitement he made me feel should have been my instinct screaming at me to run far away from him.

I should’ve known better, just by his last name. 

Vitale was one of the most notorious mob families, known for malicious killings and “deals gone wrong”.

But his baby blues put me in a trance. One that I couldn’t escape from until there was no option left.

There’s no love left between us, if it was ever truly there in the first place, but he’d rather have us both killed than risk letting what he sees as his go free.

If I can’t have you, then no one can…

It doesn’t matter that she’s his daughter. He’d kill her in cold blood just to hurt me.

Every threat he’s ever hurled at me scrapes against the inside of my skull as we find a dark and hidden crawl space.

If we’re lucky, it’ll keep us hidden until the sun comes up.

Luck hasn’t exactly been on our side lately, but it’s the best hope we’ve got.

“Now, can you tell me?” Selena whispers as she cuddles close to me.

All I want is to take her far away from all this bullshit, all this danger. But she carries the Vitale name, and that in itself is a lifelong curse.

“Do you remember what I always told you. If we were ever in danger…” I manage to spit out, holding back my tears, doing my best to remain strong for her even as everything in me is shattered.

Her eyes fall off me and land on the gravel beneath our feet. “Look for The Angels and run to them.”

The first time Michael threatened my life, I made it my goal to make sure that even if I didn’t make it out of this alive, my daughter would survive.

Away from that sonofabitch.

The last time I saw The Angels was ten years ago, when I was nineteen and the world was a different place.

I was young, I was stupid, and love wasn’t enough to make me stay with the best friend I ever had, my first love…

Luis.

When I lost him, my place amongst The Angels left with him.

But the sign of hope never left my heart.

Luis was everything I thought I wanted in life. We had been inseparable since grade school. Once we got older, the feelings grew deeper until he lit a fire inside of me that I thought died along with my parents.

He made me feel something other than dead inside, and I wanted so desperately to hold onto that feeling. 

I was ready to throw everything away for him until he broke my heart.

After, I moved an hour away and never looked back. But I never gave up hope that if I needed them, they would be there for me.

Family is funny that way.

“Good job, baby. Don’t ever forget that.” Sighing, I wrap my arm around her and hold her tight. “I can’t say too much, but just know whatever I do, it’s to keep us safe.”

She’s seen the aftermath of her father’s handiwork. She isn’t a little kid anymore. 

Selena is so bright, and she’s seen the bruises before I’ve had a chance to cover them. 

She’s seen exactly what a monster her father can be.

But that’s still her father, and I can’t bring myself to tell her that it’s so much worse than she could ever know.

For the next few hours, we stay hidden, my arms wrapped around her to keep her warm as she falls in and out of sleep. 

My eyes never leave the skyline, dry and red-rimmed from lack of sleep. The moment day breaks, we are on the run again. 

If we can just make it back to Orange County, there’s at least a glimmer of hope that someone from The Angels can help us escape this hell.

Driving distance, it’s only an hour away, but on foot…

Who knows what could happen between here and there? Michael has boys posted all over this town and probably already has the order out to catch us if spotted.

I’m running out of options, and I’m terrified. For her, for me… For our lives.

If we do manage to escape, does that mean we’ll be on the run forever? Constantly having to look over our shoulders, worrying if he’s hunting us?

What kind of life is that?

A surge of bitterness twists my stomach into knots.

I’ve done nothing but bend my life for his and do everything asked of me, playing the role of the perfect wife, never complaining, always there for him...

And this is what I get in return.

The air is chilled, but the sun is finally breaking over the horizon. This is our chance.

With a jerk of my arm, I gently shake Selena awake. Her eyes flutter open, and the innocence in them is enough to make my chest tight.

It’s devastating that she has to be put through this trauma, especially at such a young age. I used to pride myself on how well I shielded her from that life, and now…

Now I wish I’d been strong enough to leave before it got to this point. 

“Mommy, is it time to go now? I’m cold.” Her soft tone puts another crack in my heart.

“Yeah, baby. It’s time to go,” I whisper as I help her out of the cubby hole we’ve found shelter in.

My head is on a swivel as we walk out into the main street. I can’t shake the eerie feeling of every passing eye as the sidewalk begins to fill with people going about their morning.

People who can’t help but cast sideways glances at the clearly run-down woman clinging desperately to a scared, confused child.

I can’t let my guard down for a single moment, or it’s over.

As we make it to the corner of Main Street, we turn the corner to another alleyway. Without warning, I feel a set of strong hands on my shoulders from behind.

Before I can scream, I’m thrown against the brick wall of a building. The crash makes my vision blurry.

My grip around Selena tightens as I pull her against me and look up at the attacker.

“Jonah, please…” I begin to beg the moment I recognize him. 

Jonah is Michael’s right-hand man. If there’s any dirty work that needs to be handled, he’s the one to take care of it.

Up until this very moment, he was always kind to me… or at least, what passes for kind in this life. There was always pity in his eyes when he’d see the bruises on me.

I held onto the hope that maybe I had him on my side. But when it comes to business, it’ll always come first.

“I’m sorry, Rose,” he responds in a deep, serious tone. “I have orders…”

His eyes are screaming a different tale, though.

My eyes well up because I know this is the end of the road for me. I just don’t want my daughter to see this.

I can’t. 

Closing my eyes tightly, a hot tear streams down my cheek as I await my dreadful fate. 

But just as suddenly, his grip tears away from me.

“Fuck!” Jonah shouts, causing my eyes to shoot open and see him on his knees. “You little fucking bitch!”

He’s curled in on himself, eyes squeezed shut with pain, hands protecting his groin.

It looks like Selena has taken matters into her own hands… or well, shoes.

“Selena, run!” I scream and shove her away from me. She looks back, frozen with terror, but I wave my hands for her to run. “Remember what I told you!”

She hesitates just a second longer before she pounds pavement, and my heart tears in half as she runs out of view. 

I can only pray that she finds someone who can help her… Someone who can keep her safer than I can.

This is my chance.

Jonah can’t chase us both, so I take off in the other direction to lead him away from my daughter. I don’t make it far before he grabs my ankles. 

My body crashes against the cold, wet asphalt, and pain shoots through my arm.

“Help!” I scream into the morning air, but it’s muffled as his hand slaps over my mouth, and I’m dragged deeper into the alley behind a large, green dumpster.

I can’t let this be the last time I see my daughter alive. I can’t let Michael win…

Giving it my all, my fist balls, and I swing, making contact with his mouth. Jonah stumbles backwards.

“Fine,” he muffles, wiping blood from his lip. “I was going to go easy on you, but fuck you, bitch.”

I have no time to dodge before his fist connects with my cheek. The impact rings through my skull, and I can feel it beginning to swell. 

It’s becoming very clear that I can’t fight this man off just with my strength. I’m going to have to get creative. 

My hand begins to feel around for something on the ground. Anything I can use as a weapon.

I gasp silently as my fingertips touch something cold and hard—a half-rusted tire iron forgotten in the empty alley. Without breaking my eye contact with him, I grab it and swing.

A small, satisfied laugh escapes me as I stand and stare down at the unconscious Jonah. 

It actually worked. 

A smile breaks across my face, and I begin to head back toward the main street again.

If I’m quick, I can catch up with Selena before she gets too far.

But a cold voice stops me in my tracks.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” The voice is deep, raspy, and rocks me to my core.

Fuck.

“Michael…” I whisper as I turn to face him. His blue eyes pierce right through me, sending a shiver down my spine.

There’s no one else on this planet who can make me feel so intimidated, so fearful with just one look.

Like I’m already dead, and my body just hasn’t caught up.

“Please… Please just let me go,” I cry out and begin to back away from him, but my back hits against something solid. 

Looking up, I see another man, one of his thugs. 

I’m not getting away this time.

This is the last time I’ll ever see Selena.

Tears roll down my face as a cloth bag is yanked over my head, leaving me blind to the world around me. 

Two firm hands pick me up, and I’m thrown over one of the men’s shoulders as I thrash and kick my legs, doing everything in my power to break free.

Before I have a chance to scream, something crashes against the side of my head, and everything goes black.

Chapter Author: @sinfiction

Genre: Dark Romance

Word Count: 1622

Chapter One: Scumbag

Ash

Heel to toe slamming the pavement, Ben and I tore through the night as fast as our legs would carry us. 

I hadn’t expected a rescue.

I learned early in life that the only person you can count on is yourself. As much as I hated to admit it, though, I was well into the frying pan before he intervened.

All I could do now was trust him and hope I hadn’t jumped straight into the fire.

Before I had a chance to react, he grabbed my wrist and turned down an unlit alleyway, nearly yanking my arm out of socket in the process. 

Any other situation and he would’ve ended up with a black eye for his trouble—never in my life had I let a man put his hands on me without making him regret it, but if there’s one thing the bastard had going for him it was his mind. 

He had a plan.

“Careful, stairs,” he grunted as he stopped me in my tracks.

I only nodded as he took his hands off of me. 

I wanted an explanation, and I wanted to cuss him out for the ache in my shoulder, but that could all wait until we were safe behind locked doors. 

He was too focused to notice the way my face screwed up with skepticism, but the situation only got weirder when he pulled a somewhat sticky key from beneath the insole of his worn-out boot.  

When the tumblers clicked into place, he breathed a sigh of relief and pushed the door open.

He stepped in, motioning for me to follow, and against my better judgment…

Well.

It’s not like I had better options.

I let him lead me into a small studio apartment, my eyes scanning the room, looking for anything I could use for a weapon in case this went south. Ben saved me, but I still didn’t know his intentions—for all I knew, he could be working for a higher bidder.  

Much to my surprise, the living room at least seemed fairly nice, save for the near jungle of potted plants that looked about as desperate for a drink as I was. Much to my delight, Mr. Barrett came strolling out of the kitchenette with a bottle of good whisky and two glasses.

My Hero.

“Nice place ya got here,” I mumbled awkwardly, taking a seat when he’d gestured toward the too-plush sofa. 

Benjamin Barrett and I had spent most of our working relationship either at each other’s throats or avoiding each other completely. The domesticity of the moment felt alien, especially in contrast to what he’d just saved me from.

“S’not mine,” he’d said, so casually as he effortlessly popped open the expensive bottle with his roughly calloused hands. “This is my ex’s place.”

An unwelcome pang of jealousy made my heart clench at the mention of another woman, and I looked anywhere but him as he leaned over to pour my drink. “So… you come here often?”

He cracked his signature stupid smirk, but it didn’t meet his eyes this time. “Only when she’s not around.”

That was one more Red Flag.

“Hey, didn’t I just save your life? Don’t look at me like that,” he scoffed, however, the amusement that threatened to split his face into a full-on grin put a scowl on mine.

“Oh, my bad. Didn’t realize one good deed is supposed to cancel out you being a fucking creep.”

I could have knocked his eyes out of his skull the way he rolled them at me. 

“See, that’s your fucking problem,” he sneered.

“My problem? I’m not the one breaking into my ex’s house to drink her booze with another woman!”

“There you go again, twisting the details!” He knocked back the remainder of his glass before slamming it back down onto the table with a loud clack. “You open your mouth and judge people before you know the whole damn story. Bratty little girls like you think that you can hide behind your pretty face and nothing you say has consequences—”

“Girls like Me?” I scoffed, my shoulders tense with annoyance and disbelief at what had just come out of his mouth.

“Yeah, girls like you.” He poured himself another drink.  “But you know what? Maybe you’re right, because you’ve been nothing but a bitch to me since the day we met, and I still risked my ass to save you.”

My chest was heaving mad, but all I could do was sit there in stunned silence across the couch from Ben, who had sunk back into the overstuffed cushions to sip his whisky and brood. 

A minute ago, I had wanted to tear his throat out, but the fact of the matter is, he did save my life.

“Why?” My voice wavered, my best attempt to be calm sounding strangled in my throat.

He grunted, shifting on the couch somewhat awkwardly, eyes suddenly preoccupied elsewhere.

“Why did you save me?” I demanded more than asked, conviction building in my voice.

He let out a deep sigh before fixing his gaze on me. “Because you didn’t deserve that.” He sets his glass on the table, much more gently this time, his hands shaking with what looked like rage. “I don’t like you, and you don’t like me, but what that piece of human garbage was going to do to you?” He looked lost, like he wasn’t used to being the good guy. “Nobody deserves that.”

It was a lot to swallow. 

Benjamin Barrett was not a good man, and everyone knew that. 

Hell, he knew that.

But lucky for me, even he had to draw the line somewhere.

“Hey.” He stood, pointing his finger at me. “Don’t you go thinking we’re friends now.  Not five minutes ago, you essentially accused me of stalking my ex. There’s no whisky fueled heart to heart that’s gonna make things any less antagonistic between us.”

It was a strange kind of relief to hear him snip at me again, a splash of normalcy in this porcelain bowl of a night. 

I smirked at him. “Okay, Scumbag, since you brought it up again… why do you still have the keys to her place?”

Bottle in hand, he leaned against the wall with an amused scoff. “Look, I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. I had this made shortly before we broke up.” He saw my mouth fall open and gestured for me to let him finish. “She’s gone an awful lot—lot of vacations. I keep tabs on when she’s gone so if I need a place to hide out for a while, I can sneak in here.”

Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I took a nervous sip of whisky. “You’re not worried about her finding out and calling the cops?” 

The fucker who thought he owned me had half the city’s police force in his pocket. I really couldn’t afford a run-in, and frankly, neither could Ben in his line of work.

He laughed, and I barely opened my mouth to cuss him out before he cut me off.

“Ash, this is my ex we’re talking about. Do you really think the kind of people who can call the cops hang around me?”

“No. No, they don’t.”

I let out a sigh of relief, finally letting my head fall back against the cushions. 

I’d been running on pure adrenaline for so long now that having this time to relax made me aware of the heavy exhaustion weighing on my bones. It was tempting to settle in for a nap, but I couldn’t help catching my new accomplice staring at me.

“What are you looking at?”

He shoots me a smirk before knocking back a few glugs of the booze. “Maybe it’s the whisky talking, but you’re kind of cute when you’re not at my throat.”

My cheeks burned hot, but I’d also blame that on the whisky. 

Barrett had a way of getting under my skin, but whatever this feeling was… I knew it didn’t mean anything. 

I’d been through enough in life to be familiar with trauma bonding, and it never went well. 

Both of us, clothes plastered in our own sweat and blood… We were out of place in this cute little apartment. 

Domesticity didn’t suit us. 

Still, the sour taste of an adrenaline-drunk fantasy was hard to shake from my mouth.  

Almost as if he could hear my thoughts, Barrett handed me the bottle, resting his hands on the back of the couch behind me. “Don’t worry about it, I’m not letting that sick fuck get his hands on you.”

After a good long chug, I let the bottle rest in my lap and laid my head back between his hands. I gazed up at him. “How did I get here, Barrett? How’d I wind up this way?”

He froze for a moment, and I wondered if his chest was as tight as mine. When he finally spoke, it nearly broke me. 

“I dunno, Ash, how do any of us?” He backed away from the couch, eyeing me in a way that was more gentle than I’d have thought the man was capable of. “Sometimes life just fucking sucks, and we don’t ever get to know why.”

In spite of myself, a sob tore its way through my throat. 

I hated it. 

I hated looking weak, and more than that, I hated looking weak in front of him. 

Instead of mocking me, however, Ben just grabbed a pair of beers from the fridge and handed me one.

When I tried to take it, though, he didn’t let go immediately.

“We’re in this together now. We’ll figure this out, Ash. You just need to trust me.”

Chapter Author: @sinfiction

Genre: Horror, Romance, Mystery, Thriller

Word Count: 3643

Chapter One: Red Red Roses

Abigail

The car hums in idle as my eyes comb over the invitation one more time. This wooded, isolated drive doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.

The vellum is fine, with the invitation itself handwritten in red ink in a swooping, calligraphic style. The envelope itself was even sealed in a rich, red wax.

The address is more plainly written, and assuming this isn’t some kind of a trap—which I haven’t ruled out—I’m headed in the right direction.

Straight on the path to Briarton Manor.

My ginger curls cling to my neck in the humid Georgia air, but even wrangling them into a ponytail does little to ease the oppressive mugginess that makes me work just a little harder for every breath.

The real question is, why was I invited in the first place?

At first, I assumed it must have been some kind of mistake, but my name is unmistakably there, handwritten in those rich, swirling letters.

Abigail Cross.

I’m no stranger to mysterious letters, and my natural inquisitiveness has taken me to many strange places in my work as a private investigator, but there was no cry for help in this message, no promise of work.

Just an invitation to a party, signed by Camille Briarton herself.

Briarton is a name I’ve heard before, but only in the sense that the Briarton rosefields are the most prestigious supplier of roses across the United States—the kind of name a person hears a lot around Valentine’s Day, along with fancy jewelers and chocolatiers.

Staring at the wooded path in front of me, my lips curl into a frown.

It seems… odd that the nation’s premier rosefields would be through a path like this.

Typically, I’d expect that any business doing regular shipments would be on wide, clear roads.

Compared to my little car, I guess it’s not a stretch to see how shipping trucks can fit here, but still, even if the Briartons do have a system in place for keeping the roads clear, it’s still weird for a major national company.

An odd choice, sure, but it’s nothing compared to Camille Briarton inviting me, a complete stranger, to some sort of party at her family’s ancestral manor.

I’ve heard the woman is nothing if not eccentric.

Setting the letter in my passenger seat, well within reach in case I need it to explain what I’m doing on the property, I shift my car back into drive and head down the wooded road, each rotation of the wheels carrying me further and further from anything resembling civilization.

After nearly a half hour of driving, my mind starts to wander.

Maybe I’d taken a wrong turn after all.

Maybe this is going to turn out to be an ambush—lord knows I’ve racked up enough enemies over the course of my career.

But all doubt goes out the window when the woods open up into what can only be described as a vast sea of bright, ruby red roses, broken only by the stunning old mansion standing at the center.

My jaw hangs open in pure awe of it, my chest tightening with an almost eerie feeling of unreality as I take my time, driving slowly in case any of the field workers happen to cross the road.

The closer I get to the road though, the more I notice how strange the place feels.

How empty.

I’d have thought a place like this would be swarming with employees, but I haven’t seen a soul, not even when I get close to the building, where I’d expect someone to tell me where to park.

There is, however, a painted wooden sign directing me to a small parking lot, so I join the five other cars parked there.

Only five.

Either I’m early, or this is an awfully small gathering to be inviting a stranger to.

Outside of my car, dark clouds crowd the sky—it’ll rain soon, no doubt. My shoulders sag with relief that I got here before I had to drive in it.

Clutching my invitation against a gust of wind, I make my way toward the gates. 

Still no one.

My hand hovers over the latch, before, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a small path leading off from the main house.

I shouldn’t follow it. 

I know that.

But my feet move as if of their own accord, and soon, the gorgeous carved stone of a private cemetery comes into view, vines creeping along the ornate wrought iron fence.

My hand rests on the gate, used to letting myself into places I don’t belong, and my body jerks like I’ve been electrocuted when I’m startled by a man’s deep voice.

“Friend of the family?” He steps out of a big mausoleum, tall and broad-shouldered, with intense eyes.

He must be the groundskeeper.

“Not… exactly,” I admit, fully aware of the way his intense eyes narrow on me. “I was invited, though.”

“Invited to poke around the family cemetery?” He asks, taking a few steps closer to me. “Or are you just drawn to places you don’t belong?”

My lip threatens to twitch up into a grin—he has no idea. 

I’ve made a career out of getting into places I don’t belong, and gathering evidence of things people would rather never see the light of day.

“Occupational hazard.” I smile, extending a hand for him to shake. “Abigail Cross, Private Investigator.”

He doesn’t take my hand.

In fact, his honey-brown eyes never leave mine, his stare searching for something that he’s not finding.

Maybe he’s more of a security guard than a groundskeeper. 

That would make sense, with the muscles that stretch the fabric of his black shirt beneath the leather jacket.

“Well, Private Investigator… ” The words roll over his tongue, almost like an insult. “I’m not sure who invited you, but you’d best be careful.”

“Is that a threat?” My eyes light up with near manic excitement, noting the way the corner of his mouth turns up into something almost resembling a smirk.

“It’s a warning.” He turns the knife-edge of his hand toward the house. “Briartons have always kept secrets, lot of which they don’t want to see the light of day.”

“Well, it was a Briarton who invited me here,” I challenge him, holding up the letter for him to see.

“Camille Briarton,” he reads, shaking his head. “Can’t believe she’s hosting a damn party in the old place.”

“Is it that odd?” My brow raises, and I lean my weight onto one hip, trying to look casual, like I’m not salivating at the chance to unravel old family secrets. “I thought it was pretty standard for rich people to throw mansion parties.”

“Maybe for other families, at other mansions, but this place?” He shakes his head, staring at the Antebellum architecture with nothing but pure disdain. “If you knew even half the story of this place, you wouldn’t set foot in that building.”

“And how do you know so much, if the Briartons are such a secretive bunch?”

He lets out a scoff, with what I think is an edge of humor, before he extends his hand for me to shake.

“Name’s Beauregard Briarton,” he tells me as I take his hand, and he exhales through his nose—just shy of a laugh, when my eyes go wide with recognition. “Yep, this is my family, for what that’s worth.”

Chapter Author: Sin

Genre: Horror, Romance, Mystery, Thriller

Word Count: 2908

Chapter One: City Boy

Elijah

This isn’t what I had in mind when my boss said that I was going to be working in New York. I’d pictured cities, high rise apartments, and claustrophobic, unwalkable streets that somehow, thousands of people managed to walk anyway.

The Big Apple.

But no.

Somehow, Mr. Jason Richards came up with the incredible plan to send me out to the middle of bum-fuck nowhere.

I can’t even see any civilization through all the trees when I see the sign boldly claiming that I am now entering Cain’s Hollow.

Calling Cain’s Hollow, New York a small-town would be a touch too generous, I think as my car cruises down the winding forest road. Never in my life have I seen a sign marked “Bear Crossing”, but I suppose it’s a matter of practicality when one’s path is in danger of being completely swallowed by the dense growth of woods.

Honestly, how Mr. Richards can picture our clientele making this journey is a mystery to me, unless he envisions building a direct flight hanger. Secluded country retreats are all the rage until the patrons actually have to drive to them. These people are used to city streets. All it would take is one downed tree, or an animal in the road, and suddenly they’ll think twice about coming out here in the first place.

The first building I see is an old barn, and I let out a weary sigh.

These are not going to be the kind of people eager to share their town with tourists, that’s for damn sure. And they certainly aren’t going to be thrilled that someone like me is driving my flashy rental car into town and trying to buy property.

My phone rings, disrupting the GPS display, and I huff as I tap the icon to put Mr. Richards on speaker phone.

“Jason, I swear to fucking god, if whatever toothless hillbilly you managed to get in touch with about selling this property tries to marry me off to his daughter, I’m turning right around, and the deal’s off.”

“Easy Eli, do you really think I’d send you across the country if I didn’t think this was a good business opportunity?”

His laughter on the other end of the line does nothing to ease my temper, but even so, I know he’s right. Even if Jason Richards can be a bit of an asshole sometimes, he doesn’t play around when it comes to his money and investments, so the cost of sending me out here to deal with the property owner in person isn’t something he’d bother with if he didn’t see the potential for profit in it.

“Yeah, maybe not,” I sigh. “But Christ—you could have warned me what a hick-town this place is. I’ve passed nothing but woods and acres of farmland so far.”

“Plenty of space for quiet contemplation,” he cuts in, and I can practically hear his smugness on the other end of the line. “It gets wild in the city, all the hustle and bustle… plenty of people just want to get away from it all.”

“So, what? You’re just gonna buy a plot of forest land and develop it?” There’s a healthy dose of skepticism in my tone—not too many people dare to tell Jason Richards how to spend his money, but we’ve been in business long enough not to bother with the pleasantries. “That’s a big financial hit if you don’t get much return on it.”

“See, that’s the beauty of it, my nitpicking friend. I’m not just buying a plot of land—the seller happens to be the proud owner of an old hotel, a few miles out of town. Used to be really popular back when this place was a tourist destination in the early 1900s.”

My stomach practically flips. “You mean to tell me that you’re buying some dilapidated old hotel, sight unseen—”

“Not ‘sight unseen’, ye of little faith,” he hastily assures me. “That’s what I’ve got you for.”

“Great,” I force out through gritted teeth. “Jason, I know you’re paying me a lot to do this, but I’m gonna be really fucking pissed if this turns out to be a—Fuck!”

As I round the next corner, a big black blur jumps out into the road, and I’m forced to swerve to avoid colliding with it head on. Shouting more obscenities as I’m tossed around, I try to protect my head as best I can until the car comes to a stop… lopsided in a fucking ditch.

“Eli! What the fuck was that?” I hear Jason shouting through the phone. “Are you okay?”

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