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Chapter One

Cove

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“Cove!” my boss, Boomer, shouts from the back. “Close up for me, will you?”

My hand pauses mid-swipe as I wipe down the sticky bar top. Spinning around, I glare in the direction of the office door. “You’re kidding me, right? That would mean I’m the only one here! Tank left like, half an hour ago.” Tank is the bar’s cook and unofficial bouncer of the bar. He deals with the drunks and rowdy customers for safety reasons.

“It’s dead. Just lock the door behind me while you finish the rest of the cleaning before you go. The wife just called, and if I don’t get home now, I’m gonna be getting a divorce. And trust me, no one wants that.”

She probably found out he’s cheating on her again, and he needs to go lie out of his ass to keep her from leaving him... again.

“You’re lucky I need this job, or I’d tell you to go fuck yourself,” I mutter, turning back around and picking up where I left off with the cleaning, putting a little bit more force into it.

“I heard that,” he says as he starts toward the front door. “But you know just as well as I do that you need this job.”

With a huff of irritation, I toss the rag on the bar top and follow him as he steps outside. “I better get overtime for this shit,” I call after him as he heads towards his car.

“You always do!” he answers back. “Night. Thanks again.”

“Yeah, whatever,” I grumble as I look up at the sky. It’s dark outside, the moon shadowed by rain clouds. A few drops fall from the sky, telling me a storm is about to begin any moment. “Damn it,” I sigh as I close the door and lock it behind me.

I hate closing. The buses stop running at ten, and the cabs in this small town stop at one in the morning. By the time I’m done, it’s going to be at least two am.

Add in the fact that I’m only twenty-five and five foot three, and that’s like painting a target on my back that says ‘easy pickings’. I might look like a badass with a body full of tattoos along with my pierced brow and lip, and don’t get me wrong, I can hold my own in a fight with someone slightly larger than me, but I wouldn’t stand a chance if some big fucker tried. It’s a good thing I carry my gun, and it’s the only reason I didn’t put up more of a fight with Boomer. I hate walking home alone at night, especially on nights when a nasty storm is brewing.

Of all the nights for my hunk-of-junk truck to break down, why did it have to be tonight? I’m thankful my place is only a fifteen-minute walk from here.

I go back to cleaning the bar. When I’m done with that, I wipe down the tables, placing the chairs upside down on them to mop the floor. By the time I’m done, it’s close to two in the morning—like I said it would be—and I’m fucking tired. I just want to go home, cuddle with my cat, Luna, and sleep for the next week. Thankfully, I have the next few days off.

Taking one last look around the place, I blow a piece of my long brown hair out of my face. “It’s gonna have to do,” I say with a shrug.

Boomer really needs to hire more people, or at least people who aren’t flakes and can be depended on. In the past month, he’s hired three girls, all of whom quit within days after being hired because Boomer couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. Some class act, he is.

Grabbing my leather jacket from the back, I slip it on, then grab my purse. My hand slides inside, confirming that my gun is still there. I’m happy when I feel the grip in my fingers.

I used to use a holster, but I technically shouldn’t even have a gun. I lost my permit a few months ago when a bad fight broke out in the bar. A man was about to beat his wife, and I “accidentally” shot him in the foot. That’s the story I told the cops, and if anyone asks, I’m sticking to it.

I’d be crazy to walk around Stonehead Creek without a weapon of some kind. It might be a small town, but it doesn’t mean it’s a safe one.

After I shut off all the lights and open the door, a feeling of dread fills me. “For fuck’s sake!” I shout as the rain pours down hard. Change of plans. I take my jacket off and drape it over my head and shoulders.

Quickly, I lock up, then make a run for it.

I’m soaked by the time I make it to the end of the first block. The icy rain hammers down, and the cold begins to seep into my bones. My teeth chatter, and my body shivers.

It’s dark, and with hardly any street lights on to guide the way, it’s difficult to see more than a couple of feet in front of me. This wasn’t a good idea. Fuck, I should have slept in the back room or waited out the storm.

It's only been a few minutes, and even though I'm running, I still have a long way to go. Looking around, I realize I must have taken a wrong turn along the way because I don’t recognize the surrounding buildings, at least what I can make out through the downpour.

I need to check the GPS on my phone, but if I take it out now, it’s going to get ruined.

Faint lights glow from the building in front of me. It looks like some kind of warehouse. Maybe I can find an open window or even something to stand under to escape the rain for a bit.

Without other options, I run toward the building.

While checking the perimeter, I don’t see anywhere to take shelter. Fuck. There are a few doors on one side, so I’ll try my luck. The first door is locked, and so is the second.