Kiss of a Stranger (Lost Coast Harbor #1)

To the servers at Zocolo.

Without the many margaritas they brought us,

Lost Coast Harbor wouldn’t exist.

Chapter One

G
abe stood on a small two-lane road and waited. He wasn’t waiting for any cars to come by, because he could be waiting for hours. He sure as hell wasn’t waiting for any people.

But he’d waited years to stand in just that spot, and he was going to enjoy it. The bus had dropped him off at the closest station, but the closest station didn’t go anywhere near the town. He’d been walking most of the day, hitchhiking when some brave soul stopped for him. Blisters had formed on his tired feet, but he barely noticed. Each step was a gift, each drop of rain and gust of wind something to treasure. The sky over his head and the open road were pleasures he’d never take for granted again.

The town’s sign was rough and weathered, its edges warped. It wasn’t one of those new modern signs with laser-printed white letters. This was aged wood, the once rich cedar now a dull gray. The letters were burned into the surface and coated with paint, most of which had faded long ago.

Welcome to Lost Coast Harbor
, it said.

Gabe’s tight-lipped smile was brutal as he stepped across the town line. For six years, he’d pored over maps, memorizing the names of every street, from the main highway to the smallest alley. He didn’t hesitate when he hit first one fork in the road, then another.

Whoever named the town hadn’t been joking. The town wasn’t in the middle of nowhere. It was on the very edge of nowhere, pressed up against the enormous swell of the Pacific Ocean. It perched on the ragged cliffs of the Northern California coast, as though it hadn’t quite decided whether or not to jump into the churning water below.

This wasn’t the California of the movies, all beaches and bikinis and smiling tanned faces. This place was fog and lashing rain. It was wind that bit at your ears and made your eyes water. Maybe it was pleasant in summer, but summer was still a long way off.

The weather didn’t slow him. He loved every stinging drop. At least he was free to feel the harsh weather. He was even free to turn around if he wanted. Instead, Gabe took one step after another, inexorably moving toward his goal.

The town square looked just as he’d pictured it. The large park in the middle was ringed by one-way streets that held most of the town’s key businesses. They were small buildings, just two or three stories, with the exception of the courthouse. On the south side of the square, the historical building rose above the others, its bell tower a dark silhouette against the night.

Only the bar remained open. He’d read about it and seen pictures on the Internet, but it was still startling to see Donnelly’s Pub in person. After years of research and planning, it was finally real.

A couple of locals opened the front door, bringing a burst of noise and light with them. Gabe ambled to the other side of the road, not moving too fast. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

They glanced his way but didn’t seem very curious. He exhaled in relief. In a town as small as this, curiosity was often the default position, particularly where strangers were concerned. The couple sounded like they’d had a beer too many, and their overloud laughter faded when they turned down a side street.

The harbor was about a mile south of the town center, tucked into a small cove. As Gabe approached the docks, the biting ocean air hit him. He inhaled, slow and deep. There was nothing like the sea.

Gabe kept to the shadows, stepping lightly down the metal stairs built into the cliff. A stranger in the town center was unexpected enough. An unfamiliar face lurking around the harbor at midnight would raise questions he didn’t want to answer.

The ocean was active tonight, the January winds making the water churn. The crashing waves covered the sound of his feet on the metal dock.

Unlike the rest of the town, the dock was modern. It had been built to withstand heavy loads. The ocean was on one side, and several single-story buildings were on the other. A few ships waited to be loaded with cargo, and he picked out the shadows of heavy industrial equipment, cranes and forklifts silhouetted against the night sky. About five hundred feet down the coast, he could just make out the small harbor where locals kept their boats, but there was no hint of movement. He was alone.

Cameras were probably mounted on the roofs, so he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt tight around his face and kept his head down. He did his best to avoid the dim orange lights that barely illuminated the dock.

Half the buildings were dedicated to the fishing industry and the other half to the shipping company. Both had the same name on their signs.

Hastings Enterprises. Gabe’s lip curled in a snarl.

He peered into one of the windows. Though it was late, the plastic blinds were open and the lights were still on.

It looked like any other industrial office. Desks, file cabinets, rolling chairs. There were also several thriving plants, a surprising sight in a cold office. Gabe thought the equipment looked modern, but what did he know. It could have been years old. He hadn’t spent much time in offices, and none at all the last six years.

There was one item he hadn’t expected to see. A red sign with big white letters sat in the window.

Help wanted
.

Before he could stop himself, Gabe laughed out loud. It was a short burst of sound, quickly swallowed by the night, and it bore as little resemblance to an actual laugh as bared teeth did to a smile.

A light snapped on. He leapt backwards, seeking the shadows. Gabe’s heart thudded in his ears, wondering if the man himself would appear. His fingers curled into claws. Violence was rarely his first choice, but he only felt pleasure at the thought of his hands wrapped around the man’s neck. He would squeeze until Hastings’ eyes bulged and the bastard confessed every sin he’d ever committed.

But Gabe didn’t want violence. That would send him back to the hell he’d finally escaped. He forced his fingers to relax.

The woman who stepped through the interior doorway definitely wasn’t Hastings. Gabe exhaled, unsure if he was disappointed or relieved.

He studied her, wondering what part she played in Hastings Enterprises. No one was insignificant. It didn’t matter if she was a receptionist or someone’s girlfriend. She would know something, and that would lead to something else, and eventually one of those things would lead to Hastings. They had to.

She was pretty enough. Her dark brown hair was pulled into such a tight bun he wondered if it made her head ache. She squeaked into the tall range, maybe five-eight or so, and she wore sensible brown flats rather than heels. Her pants were brown as well, her top a perfectly serviceable white button-down that hung on her narrow frame. Her features might have been nice, if her mouth wasn’t pursed and her brow furrowed.

She looked, Gabe decided, like a woman in desperate need of a good lay. He dropped his gaze to her left hand. No ring.

The beginnings of a plan clicked into place, and his smile turned wolfish.

The woman grabbed her purse and keys. Gabe ducked between two buildings, where the darkness was unrelieved by a single light. He sent a silent prayer of thanks for the moonless night.

The door clicked shut and the woman’s steps moved along the dock. They were light, almost as soft as a dancer’s. When she reached his hiding place, she glanced between the buildings, almost as if she sensed he was there.

It was too dark for her to spot him, but she’d paused beneath a lamppost. He could see her clearly.

His breath caught. He’d been wrong. She wasn’t small-town pretty. When her face softened and the long lines of her body were revealed by the light surrounding her, she was downright lovely.

Gabe swallowed and felt his balls tighten.

Fuck, how long had it been since he’d even seen a good-looking woman, let alone been near one? If this woman helped him achieve his revenge while looking so soft and pretty, he’d be a fool not to enjoy the bonus.

Except…she probably had nothing to do with his arrest. He’d be using an innocent woman for his own ends.

He squashed those doubts before they grabbed hold. Gabe had spent years looking after everyone else, and in the end it took everything he had.

This time, he was only looking after himself.

Maddie closed her front door with a sigh of relief. The walk home had been bracing, if bracing meant she could no longer feel her fingers and was fairly certain her ears had fallen off two blocks ago.

She stomped her feet in the entryway to bring her toes back to life. She also wanted to make noise just because she could. For the first time in years, she didn’t need to worry about disturbing anyone else.

Her house was finally her own. No raucous music on the weekends, no mysterious lifeforms in the refrigerator, no one to notice when she came home on the wrong side of midnight. She closed her eyes and reveled in the long-awaited solitude.

“Maddie? You home?”

She froze and considered going back outside.

“I thought I heard you come in.” Bree strode down the narrow stairs, looking far too awake for that time of night. Then again, Bree had never kept a regular schedule. Even in high school, she’d been as likely to be wide awake at four a.m. on a weekday as not.

Maddie shut her eyes and counted to five. Maybe ten would be better. “You’re still here?”

“Blame Jared. I tried to pick up the keys, but the office was shut every time. I’m sorry, Maddie. I know you’re ready to live alone.”

She really should have counted to twenty. Maddie hung her dark wool coat on one of the hallway pegs, thinking furiously. “It’s okay. Everyone knows what Jared’s like. You didn’t say it was one of the Hastings properties. I’ll get Oliver to bring the keys to the dock tomorrow.”

“You’re the only person I know whose boss will run errands for them. But yeah, that would be great.” Bree pointed to the stack of boxes by the front door. “I really tried to get out of here today. Erin even took the day off to help me.”

Maddie’s annoyance faded. Bree had been her best friend since second grade, and this wasn’t her fault. Having her for a roommate the last four years had been a lifesaver. Without her, Maddie would have lost her home, unable to make the payments on the mortgage she’d taken over when her mother died. But last week, she’d sent in the final payment. Years of scrimping and saving had paid off. It wasn’t much, this old cottage by the sea, but it was officially hers. No one could take it away.

Maddie ran her finger along the top box, labeled “Cords and various electronic shit.” It was so very Bree, honest and irreverent at the same time. “I know. And it’s not that I’m rushing to get rid of you…”

Bree snorted. “Yes you are, and you should be. You went from your mom to Charlie to me, and I moved in the day I came back from college. Neither of us has lived alone. It’s time to act like the sort-of grownups we sometimes pretend to be. I’m more than ready to hole up in my cabin in the trees, but don’t think for a second I’m taking off and leaving you here alone.”

“I can take care of myself,” Maddie protested.

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about—that you’ll only take care of yourself.” Bree waggled her eyebrows, in case her meaning wasn’t clear.

Maddie grimaced. She didn’t have much room to argue. Bree knew exactly how long Maddie’s dry spell had been, and the last few months her friend hadn’t missed a chance to remind her about it.

Bree’s smile turned a little bit wicked. “Or have you already found someone to invite back to your newly-empty house? Don’t think I didn’t notice the time. What were you doing tonight? Details, please.”

“Where do you think I was? There was a mixup at work. Two ships came in that weren’t supposed to. It needed to be sorted out, and I lost track of time.” Also, she’d wanted to give Bree a few more hours to leave, but she left that part out.

“You give that place too much of your time.”

“That place is why I now have a savings account.”

“Lots of people with savings accounts manage to leave work at five.”

Maddie wasn’t ready to admit why she’d recently increased her hours. Hastings Enterprises was putting in a bid for a huge chunk of land northeast of town. She needed to convince Oliver to let her work on that project—which meant she had to prove the shipping office was in good enough shape to function without her.