Page 52 of Like a Hurricane

He looks at his wife like she’s his whole world and while Maya was still obviously mad, she softens and accepts his outstretched hand, going to him. Rett slides his arm around my waist. “I’ll make coffee,” Torin says to us, “Then we can sit down, and you can explain it.” He points to Rett.

We agree and while the two of them stay in the kitchen, Rett guides me through to the living room, placing me in front of the fire. “Take off the layers, warm up a little.”

I give him a small smile, taking a breath to try ease some of the tension in my muscles.

Alone, I do as Rett suggested and strip off all the outer layers, looking towards the kitchen where Maya and Torin brew coffee. My chest squeezes as I watch them.

I didn’t know them but the love between them was so clear and strong it reminded me of the conversation I had with Rett about love stories.

I said the kind of love in romance didn’t exist and he’d said it did because he’s seen it.

And now, I have seen it too.

Chapter Twenty-five

The fire blazes in the hearth, warming the room while Torin and Maya sit facing Rett who explains the situation to Maya. I feel her eyes on me, sympathy radiating off her even though she remains silent while the story is told.

Harper is playing with the chicken beyond the windows, the small child bundled up in layers, a hat, almost too big for her head keeps falling over her forehead and every now and then she lifts her gloved hand to push it back up, leaving it askew.

But she was smiling, laughing, her cheeks rosy from the cold, her bright eyes beaming. She was happy.

When I thought of small towns, I thought dreary, boring, a place to come to when you’re ready to die. But this place was nothing like that. It was quiet, sure, there were very few people around, but it wasalive.

And I was starting to realize that a place doesn’t need to be packed or teeming with people, it doesn’t need big shopping malls or busy highways for it to be a place worth living. This town, these people, this was a home.

Rett startles me when he places his hand on my shoulder, drawing me from my fixation on the window.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Maya says gently, her eyes soft.

She is truly beautiful, with dark hair and green eyes. A scar slices through her brow and I remember Rett telling me small bits about her and Harper’s past, and I know her story is just as tragic as mine.

“Thank you.” I swallow, “This is just what I have now.”

“Your sister,” Torin joins in, “She’ll take on the hotel now?”

I nod, “Unless I go back.”

“Which you can’t do because of the hit. The moment you step foot on the mainland is the moment you sign your death certificate.” Torin says.

The words weren’t intended to be harsh, but I flinch anyway. “Yes.”

“The Ware’s, they ordered the hit?” Maya frowns.

“I would assume so, yes. Arryn is the only witness to her father’s murder.”

“So why don’t you fake it?”

My spine stiffens, “What?”

“Fake your death,” Maya continues, “Rett takes on the contract, you stage your death, and he sends the images to them. They think you’re dead, they take down the mark.”

“She’ll never be able to go back,” Torin says to his wife gently, his hand moving towards her stomach but then he stops himself and drops his hand, rolling his shoulders as if he was about to do something he wasn’t supposed to.

Rett didn’t appear to notice the sudden shift, but I did.

“Not necessarily,” Maya subtly slides her fingers over Torin’s hand, “If the Ware’s think she is dead, and no longer a problem, they’ll come out of hiding. At the moment, they’re protecting themselves but when the threat of exposure is gone, there’ll be no more reason to hide.”

“I’m not following,” I say, keeping my focus on the couple ahead of me. Torin and Rett are very similar, but where Torin was rugged, Rett was clean, but they shared the same eye color and hair color. Torin is slightly taller but size wise, they were both broad and fit. Torin’s tattoos covered his arms, dark swirls of ink etched expertly into his skin, and I had to wonder if Rett went to the same artist because the ones hidden beneath his clothes looked just as intricately done.

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