Sweetest Risk Read online

  “What is it you do, spy boy?” I ask trying to help myself forget the fact he’s off doing something I don’t know in the dark of the night.

  But I’m still not a crazy woman. He can save the world. As long as nothing bad ever happens to him and nothing scary. Definitely no dangerous situations.

  Graham smiles. “Oh, you know, just another night saving the world. I’ll bring back a cookie if the bakery is open, but only if you are waiting for me when I get here.”

  He did not need to bribe me, but I am not one to turn down a cookie. Damn the carbs. I’m screwed lately, anyway. “A pink one?”

  “Of course. Only the best for my girl.”

  My heart explodes with the words, like a firework in my chest, but thank God it all comes back together and reassembles so my blood can keep beating. I don’t need to die from an exploded chest cavity here on the bed-and-breakfast floor. Forget when the last time a guy kissed me in public was, what about the last time someone called me his girl? It’s never happened, in case you were wondering. This would be a “mark in your calendar” date to remember.

  By the time I’ve recovered and breathe normally again, I catch Graham checking the chunky silver watch he wears, scowling down on it and kissing me again. “Promise you’ll be waiting?”

  “I promise.”

  “Even if I’m really late.”

  Now he’s practically begging me to stay in his room. I won’t survive this man. “As long as you promise to wake me up.”

  He kisses me again on the nose. “Only if you don’t look adorable.”

  I finally blush. I’ve been so proud of myself for holding it together even with the heart explosions and the cookie offers, but the mention of me sleeping does me in. It was too much to contain. One woman alone can’t do it. Not only have I been spending my evenings in his room, most my mornings as well. That’s what happens when you fall asleep wrapped up in someone’s arms. Of course, it also means I recently learned I may snore — slightly and not loudly — when I fall into a deep sleep. I’m horrified, but Graham has promised it’s cute.

  With one last kiss he walks out of the bed-and-breakfast front doors, leaving me to lean on my elbows watching him leave. There is a small tinge of sadness, but something more beautiful sits in my soul watching and waiting for him to come back. Hopefulness. That is the thing I’ve experienced the most the last week and a half. I’ve dated before, but it’s always been a lighthearted thing. I was happy to go on a date, and on occasion I met a nice guy, but I also was okay if it was only one date or two. Never before have I had such a strong hope in my chest for what’s coming. Not only that he brings me back that pink cookie from Anessa’s bakery, but we’ll do it again tomorrow and then the night past that and the night after that one. I’m hoping for a bunch of nights with Graham spooning me into a peaceful – snore-filled – night’s rest.

  But it’s not only the feel of his skin rubbed against mine but also the hours we spend lounging together talking before one of us — usually me — falls asleep. He’s perfect. Loves dark chocolate, dogs, and even reads fantasy novels. All things I completely approve of. The pieces that make up Graham keep bringing me back. Every time he gets close my stomach goes a little topsy-turvy and I can’t wipe the smile off my face. He’s big and hard in all the right places, but with me it’s like getting to know the whole inner core of a person.

  I know that whatever Graham does for Ridge Jefferson can’t be as simple as installing security alarms, but it’s hard to picture him as the big bad not-a-spy when I’m wrapped up in his arms. There are clues. The long-term military service, the contract to work for Pelican Bay’s security firm — the same security firm that everyone whispers about behind closed doors. I may not be a Pelican Bay native, but I hear the rumors. There’s a lot more going on with Ridge’s security firm than installing fancy and expensive alarms.

  No one knows exactly what those guys do and now I’m wrapped up in one of his contractors. I’m not sure I want to find out. My anxiety probably couldn’t handle knowing what Graham’s out there doing right now. Or why he won’t be back until late. No one I know has a security alarm installed after seven and you definitely don’t need a highly trained Navy SEAL to screw it in the wall.

  But if what I’m starting to suspect is true, eventually I’ll have to find out what keeps Graham traveling all over the country. It’s going to become important because the more time we spend together the more I believe he’s the one.

  And that is scary as hell.

  Someone whistles from behind and I twist around to Cammie standing in an open doorway. “Girl, you got it bad.”

  A deep sigh escapes from my lips as I lean my head on my hands and rest my elbows on the desk. “I know.”

  I mean I’m letting the man bring me home pink-covered carbs. My whole life has flipped on an axis. I haven’t even had time to make new year’s resolutions yet. I normally have a list by now.

  “Wow,” Cammie says, standing beside me and staring as if I’m a mutant. “You know it’s even worse when you admit it.”

  “What can I do, Cammie?” I ask throwing my hands up in the air. Eventually he is going to leave, or he’s going to be forced to stay, and either of those options sound horrible. Fifty years down the road one of us will be a spiteful spouse full of resentments. If we make it to the altar. No one should have to compromise who they are and what they want for someone else. Should they?

  Cammie shrugs not offering any helpful advice right out of the gate.

  “He’ll be leaving soon.” In reality I don’t know when he’s leaving. It’s not something we talk about. Instead, it’s a looming date at some point in the future. It could happen tomorrow or three months from now. I hope he at least gives me a warning, even if it will make it worse knowing that our time is drawing to a close.

  “You pack a bag and then screw that man wherever he takes you. It would be constant vacation sex.”

  “It’s not that easy, Cammie.” I worked hard to go to college and get my degree and I wanted to get this job so badly.

  “Why not?” she asks as if it would be easy for her to throw all her belongings into a bag and pick up and leave everything she has here in Pelican Bay.

  She pats me on the shoulder and slides to the other side. “You’ll figure out. I have faith in you.”

  The lobby area grows quiet as Cammie leaves for the night, and I’m left to wait out the remainder of my shift alone. I wish I could be as optimistic as she is, believing it would be simple to pack up and go, but what would I do if we didn’t work out? What if he leaves me on the side of the road at some crappy motel outside of Vegas? How would I find a new job?

  But then what if everything did work out? We rode off into the sunset and everything was fine? A whole life of us together being happy. What if I let him go and I never find another man who makes me feel as happy?

  I’ve never felt it before so why would I believe I could find it again if I so carelessly throw “the one” away this time? What if Graham is the love of my life and I’m about to throw it all away?

  I’m not an overly romantic person and I’ve never jumped on the soulmate love train before, but right now I’m having the thought often. For the first time in my life I think I’m in love.

  On the other hand, what if our connection fades? A little voice in the back my mind asks only to be squashed out by another from my heart that says “but what if it doesn’t?”

  It’s a battle I don’t think I’ll ever win. Sooner or later I have to decide and take the jump into the dark abyss of an unknown future.

  In the midst of my despair, the clock on top of the desk begins the counts down to the breakfast alarm. At 7:20, it’s well past the time when Dwight should be checking in for the night. He might not be my favorite person at the bed-and-breakfast considering I find him a little creepy, but he’s normally punctual. He’s never left me to wait this long.

  By this point in the night he’s asked me out once and I’ve turned
him down twice. I like to get ahead of any future proposals.

  His determination to clean out the root cellar before the season is over has me walking in that direction. I’ve never been down there myself. The area seems super creepy like something out of a book I read once in middle school. People would walk into the cellar but no one would walk out.

  The entrance to the old root cellar is outside and I run the short distance, not bothering to cover up with a coat. The door pulls hard as I open and step down the first three stairs, holding it open behind my back. Light shines brightly out of the root cellar in the humid air against the cold from outside. The door shuts behind me with a loud bang, but that’s not what has my attention. It’s the rows and rows of tall growing green plants laid out on tables spread throughout the area.

  I walk down two rows, making it to the back of the small room where there has to be at least two hundred marijuana plants growing. It’s legal here in Maine, but not at this volume. I’ve never been concerned with the laws myself, but I know it’s only like six plans per person. Whoever is using our root cellar — and I’ve started to think it’s Dwight — as their own personal grow house either has a permit or is hiding from the police.

  Along the back wall, boxes are stacked as tall as the ceiling with weird labels using different letters and initials on them where nothing makes sense.

  Holy shit.

  I’ve definitely stepped into something I was never meant to see. Without taking my eyes from the room, I grab my phone from my back pocket, hurrying and slipping to the corner of the room to take a picture. I search to my contacts ready to call the one person that comes to mind. Hopefully he’ll answer.

  12

  The room is bright and hot and stuffy. The lights blaze down on the growing plants as the walls close in on me. The shadows from the corners get closer with every fleeting millisecond it takes to scroll through my contacts and find his name.

  Time stands still and then rushes forward each time the phone rings and no one picks up on the other end. What is he doing tonight?

  “Please. Please. Please,” I whisper even though I’m alone in the room.

  The call switches to voicemail and I hang up staring at my screen as if somehow, it’s his electronic device’s fault and not his.

  I hit recall and tip the top of one of the paper boxes stacked low enough for me to see. Inside green flakes of what looks like petals are wrapped together in clear cellophane. Dwight — or whoever is working down here — has quite the operation going. It looks like something you’d find in a movie. One of those cop comedies where somehow the dumber-than-a-box-of-rocks recruits catch the bad guys and $1 billion in drugs.

  The phone rings in my ear with the second call and finally on the third ring when I’m about to give up hope, he answers.

  “Tara?”

  “You do more than install alarms for Ridge Jefferson, right?” I whisper. It feels like the right thing to do in this kind of situation. I should qualify him before dropping this in anyone’s lap.

  “Yes,” his answer draws out the questions.

  I tip another top of a box and see the same thing as the last one. Nicely stacked together cellophane bricks of green leafy flakes. “What is your experience in?”

  “Tara, is this important? I’m kind of busy. If you really want to know, we can talk about tonight.”

  My stomach tightens knowing I’m going to have to admit what I’m looking at here in a minute. “I found something… important.”

  “Where are you?” His voice goes from slightly annoyed to concerned fast.

  “At the bed-and-breakfast in the root cellar and they have all these plants and lights.”

  “Tara, get out of there right now. I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”

  A burst of cold air sweeps through the underground root cellar and the heavy wood door slams on top of itself. There’s nowhere for me to hide, no darkness to seek out. The earlier shadows have dissipated and blaring lights from above highlight my actions. “I think I’m in trouble.”

  “Tara!” Graham yells before I lower the phone for my ear. I crouch down beside the stack of boxes, hopeful maybe the person will walk away.

  “No, you can’t come and get this shipment until after two. People are starting to notice the noises.” Dwight talks loudly on a phone, pacing at the front of the cellar, his body barely casting shadows in the bright lights.

  I cower further back keeping my eyes on him while trying my best to hide. Maybe if I will myself to be smaller and shrink in the corner, I can become invisible. It doesn’t work and once Dwight hangs up his call, his sharp eyes notice me immediately. His eyes widen and he grins. But not a normal smile like when one person greets a friend. This is all predator when he stalks in my direction, his eyes never leaving my position as I’ve bunched myself against the floor.

  “My, my, my, what do we have here?” He stops a few feet away resting his chin the back of his hand.

  I stand up, keeping my back against the wall as it scratches against one of the paper boxes. “Dwight.”

  “Come here, Tara.” He beckons me closer was a finger.

  No way in hell I’m going anywhere near him. I’m perfectly happy in my boxy area.

  “Come on, Tara.”

  “No.” I don’t know where Graham is or how long it will take him to get here, but I have all the faith in the world he will rescue me, eventually. Any second now.

  Except as Dwight and I stand off against one another, him smiling like he’s ready for lunch and me doing everything I can to figure out a way out of the small room even though there’s only one exit, my savior never comes. Seconds feel like hours and there’s no sign of Graham.

  When I don’t move Dwight comes to me. He grabs a chunk of my hair and rips my head closer to his, putting us only a few inches apart. I refuse to make a sound not wanting to give him the pleasure of knowing he’s causing me pain. His head gets closer and runs his nose from the bottom of my neck, up to my ear, and into my hair sniffing me like a weirdo with a fetish.

  “You haven’t been with him tonight.”

  Ugh. How would he know that from my smell?

  “It means you’ll be fresh when you’re with me.”

  Finally, my fight-or-flight instincts kick in and I push away his hands, trying to get away, but he only twists my hair harder. “I’ll never be with you.”

  Dwight laughs and for the first time since we started working together six months ago, I see a bit of his true colors. He’s not just the weird nephew of the bed-and-breakfast owner. There’s something darker and sinister about him. His laughter fills the room, but it’s dreadful and rough.

  “You’ll regret those words soon, Tara.”

  I shake my head, his fingers still wrapped in my hair. “No, I don’t think so.”

  “I am on my way to ruling the underground of Pelican Bay. Your little friend and Ridge have done a great job of decimating my competition, but they haven’t gotten close to the real kingpin of Pelican Bay. Soon I will inherit everything. When I take over, you’ll wish you’d accepted all those times you turned me down. I’ll rule this town.”

  He sniffs my neck again and I recoil. “You’re crazy.”

  Dwight jerks my head back, slapping at the same time and dragging me from my little corner we’re standing between two rows of plants. “I’ll make you pay for that. When I take what is mine, I’m going to parade every mistress I fuck in our bed right through your living room as you watch.”

  My eyes widen. What kind of sick fantasies is this man having?

  “Look at where I started and one day you’ll see where I’ve gone.”

  Because I must have more of Cammie in me than I’m willing to admit, I can’t shut my mouth and play along. No, instead I have to aggravate by asking questions, but the situation doesn’t make sense. “I thought weed was legal in Maine?”

  Dwight scoffs. “There’s always room for more. The growing requirements are ridiculous and buying your product
from out of state is expensive. Just like your favorite grocery, shopping local gives you better prices and fresher product. Except now I’m the only store in town.”

  “Are you using the bed-and-breakfast as a weed operation?” I’ve been here six months. How did I not see this going on? All those bangs in the night. Has he been selling it here too? I thought Pelican Bay was a cute, quiet, little town on the East Coast with a charming old bed-and-breakfast. I never pictured something like this could be going on right underneath my feet. How long has the root cellar operated as a grow house?

  Dwight laughs, this one deeper and more heartfelt but still evil. “This? This is not a weed operation, sweetheart. What you see here is my personal stash and overflow room. My grower has spaces situated all over the woods so it’s impossible to track them.”

  “But why, Dwight?” It’s the one thing I’ve never understood when it came to criminals. Some people have a soft spot for men who live dark lives, but I’ve always wondered why they couldn’t have chosen a different path. Become an accountant or something. Why risk it all knowing at any moment you can have the world taken from you?

  Dwight backs me up against the wall. I inch my face away from his, trying to get some distance, but it doesn’t work. His breath covers the air, forcing me to breathe him in against my wishes.

  “I’ll make you all see. Every single woman who turned me down who laughed when my back was turned. You’ll be the one sorry when I take over this shit hole town.”

  “Ridge would never let that happen.” I’ve only met the man in passing, but I hear the stories. He’s back in Pelican Bay after years as a Navy SEAL to keep the place safe. He wouldn’t let anything happen to his town.

  “Soon it will be my town and then we’ll see.”

  He jabs his knee between my legs and rolls his groin against mine, his tongue licking at my neck. I wiggle and squirm, trying to do anything possible to get away, but his body has boxed me in and all I get for my efforts are scratches along my arms and hair loss. I scream, but nothing works.