Killian: A West Bend Saints Romance Read online

  A woman appeared on the porch, and a toddler ran out onto the porch.

  "Daddy!" the toddler cried.

  "No, no, sweetie," she said, as I came up the steps. "That's not daddy. Are you Molly?"

  I nodded. "I called and made a reservation earlier."

  She held out her hand. "I'm June," she said. "It's nice to meet you. Little Stan heard the bike and thought you were his daddy. So did I, for a minute there. My husband Cade rides a bike, owns a shop in town. He does custom paint jobs."

  "Oh, yeah?" I said. I hadn't pegged this sweet-looking and heavily pregnant woman as the wife of a biker. "I'll have to swing by the shop, take a look."

  "Come on in," June said. "How long will you be staying?"

  "Only for a few days, I think."

  June chattered away as she took my credit card, one of the many fakes I owned, recommending some of the tourist attractions outside of town. She offered to give me a tour to the house, but I declined. "You know," I said. "I'm pretty tired and I have some work to do, so I'll be just fine hanging out in the room."

  "Oh, what kind of work?" June pushed open the door to one of the bedrooms. "The bathroom is just inside there."

  "I'm an attorney," I said. Or rather, Molly was an attorney. Molly McAdams was a motorcycle-riding entertainment lawyer from Los Angeles with a live-in boyfriend named Tyler and a cat named Alice. Molly was one of ten core identities I kept on rotation, whose details I knew like they were part of my own history, and who served me well.

  "What kind of law do you practice?" June asked.

  "Entertainment law," I said.

  "Oh, that's interesting," she said. "I'm sure you've heard that West Bend has our very own movie star."

  "I hadn't heard," I said absently. All I could think about was the fact that I wanted to get inside the room and rinse the dust from the road off me. The hotel I'd stayed in the night before, on the road from Vegas, hadn't exactly been the best and I felt grimy.

  "We do," she said. "River Andrews. She does romantic comedies. She took up with Elias Saint, moved here to West Bend."

  My heart raced at the name. Damn it, I thought. What the hell was with the Saint brothers being brought up at every turn? It was like fate was throwing my fling with Silas right in my face.

  "Well," June said, leaning down to scoop up her toddler. "There’s coffee and tea in the kitchen - one of those brewers with the individual cups, so you can just help yourself. And there are some baked goods and fruit on the counter. If you haven't eaten dinner yet, I can recommend a few restaurants. And I usually put up a breakfast around nine in the dining room."

  "That sounds fantastic, June," I said. "Between the coffee and the internet, I think I'll be all set until tomorrow."

  "All right. That's easy enough," June said. "We're in the house next door if you need anything. The phone number is posted on the refrigerator."

  As soon as the door closed, I slid my backpack off and unpacked, munching on a protein bar as I drew a bath. I sank into the tub, the warm water enveloping me, and laid my head back against the porcelain, closing my eyes.

  I couldn't get the thought of Silas out of my head, the memory of our not-so-distant encounter.

  Silas tracing his finger over my shoulder and down my arm as he sat in the tub, facing me. Silas, his face close to mine, his voice barely more than a whisper, sliding his fingers along my thigh and between my legs, then slipping them inside me on the balcony at the hotel restaurant. Silas looking up at me, his face between my legs as I lay on the piano.

  Silas underneath me as I rode him, outside by the creek when we were seventeen. Silas, gripping my ass as he spun me in circles, my legs wrapped around his waist, after he won the state wrestling championship. Silas, his face close to mine as he moved inside me, telling me he would marry me someday.

  It was like a damned replay, the highlights of my life. And now, being here in West Bend was making those memories even more vivid.

  I reminded myself that what happened with Silas in Vegas was just a fling.

  A fling I couldn't get out of my head.

  Heat rushed through my body, but not from the water, and I found myself sliding my hand over my breasts, then down my stomach. I knew I should be putting thoughts of Silas out of my head, not indulging them.

  Instead, I leaned my head back against the tub, and let the image of Silas dominate my thoughts, my hand moving between my legs, sliding over my clit again and again until I finally came. And when I crashed over the edge, Silas' face was the only thing I saw.

  24

  Silas

  I wasn't sure how I felt, driving up to the house. I hadn't been back there since after the funeral, since I'd left with Elias to chase after River in Hollywood. Luke told me that we needed to head out to the place, clean it out and decide what to do with things. My mother had written out a will leaving everything to the four of us, dated a month before she died, another thing that made me suspicious. Since when was my mother responsible enough to write out a will in advance?

  I wasn't buying it.

  Still, I also wasn't sure what I was doing here. After all that my parents had done, spending any time giving a shit about whether they'd been murdered seemed like a bad investment of time. But I told myself it would take an hour and I'd satisfy my curiosity.

  I could see I wasn't alone as soon as I got to the house. An unmarked white pickup truck was parked on the side. I contemplated going inside the house and getting the shotgun just in case, but decided against it.

  It was probably just a utility guy, I told myself as I headed around back. Or some high school kids who knew the place was empty.

  Instead, a man wearing an orange construction helmet loitered by the edge of the property, near the old blasting site. When he saw me, he immediately straightened, pulling a walkie-talkie from his waistband and speaking into it.

  I was too far away to hear what he said.

  "Hey!" I yelled. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  A second man emerged from the entrance to the mine, and pulled out his cell phone as soon as he saw me. His back was toward me, but I could tell he was talking to the other guy.

  I jogged toward them. "Do you have a reason to be out here? This is my property."

  One of the men held up his hands. "We're surveyors, just taking a look at the land."

  "So I guess you've got some identification that shows that, then? I asked. "Are you from the city or the county?"

  The men looked at each other. "We're just doing a routine examination of the mine."

  "Yeah, I understand that," I said. "So who exactly is your employer? And where's your identification? Pardon me if I don't exactly take kindly to strangers thinking they have free reign to poke around my private property."

  They exchanged glances again.

  Now I was starting to get pissed off.

  "You've got two seconds to tell me what the hell you're doing here, and who exactly you work for, or I'm going to walk back to my house and get the shotgun my mother used to keep over the mantle here. How much do you want to bet it's still loaded?" I asked.

  "Whoa, whoa," the first man said. He reached into his back pocket. "I'm just pulling out my wallet now. We're from the mining company."

  "Who the hell gave you permission to come out here?" I asked, glancing at the identification he held up. "This is private fucking property."

  "Don't shoot the damn messenger," the other one said. "We're just doing our jobs."

  "Your job involves trespassing on private land?"

  They didn't answer, just gathered their bags and began backing away from me. "We don't want any trouble," the first one said, holding up his hands again.

  "Well, trouble is what you're about to get," I said. I took long strides toward the house. As far as I could remember, that shotgun was still over the mantle.

  "Shit," I heard one of them say from behind me.

  They'd better be running, I thought. My mind was spinning as I approached the hou