Nevermore Bookstore (Townsend Harbor Book 1)

Rival

(RĪ′VƏL) NOUN. ONE WHO ATTEMPTS TO EQUAL OR SURPASS ANOTHER, OR WHO PURSUES THE SAME OBJECT AS ANOTHER; A COMPETITOR.

“Where’s Cady?” Fox asked, returning with a couple grease-stained bags.

Gemma smiled over at him from where she was selling some mittens to a woman with a purse dog. “She was wondering if you could hold down the fort awhile.” She had the woman sign her iPad and sent her off. “Cady forgot her lunchtime meds, again. And they say I am the one with ADHD,” she added, sitting and stabbing her project with renewed vigor.

After stashing Cady’s food beneath the table, Fox did two cash sales before Myrtle shuffled over. “Watch Vee for me, will ya?” she asked. “Her pervs are older than Cady’s, but pretty as she is, she has to fight all these widowers off with a cattle prod.”

“Seems like she can take care of herself,” he said, futzing with the cashbox.

“So can Cady, but here you are.”

Their eyes met and held, and for once in his life, he backed down. “Touché. I’ll do my best for your woman, ma’am. You all right?”

She put a shaking hand up to her temple. “Headache.”

He instantly melted at the pinched look in her eyes. “If you want to stay with Vee and sit in the shade, I can get you meds.”

“No thanks, I’ve had it since adolescence. It flares in the company of assholes, and we’re surrounded by them.” She cackled at her own joke before laying a hand on his arm. “Really, Bob, I wouldn’t mind a break from people and to pee somewhere that isn’t made of plastic and smells like work.” She eyed the line of blue Porta-Potties with distaste.

“Ten-four.” He saluted her as she waddled off.

He made another sale, and learned it took a very secure man to be taught how to use a glitching credit card reader from a half-blind British septuagenarian. And he’d had an affair with a male Iranian cabinet member that lasted three months before he finally got his hands on the intel they’d sent him for.

If he wasn’t all the way straight before, he certainly was after that ordeal.

After he’d spent about fifteen minutes alone, Myrtle’s shifting gait and peppermint-scented breath announced her return from behind him. “Psst. Heads up. It’s the fuzz!” she whisper/screamed into his ear.

“The what now?”

She shook his shoulder. “The five-oh. The fuzz. The po-po.”

“Okay! Thank you, Myrtle, for your subtle and not at all culturally insensitive alert.” Gemma jumped to her feet and herded Myrtle back to the vagina tent using her knitting needles as a prod.

Ethan Townsend shouldered through the crowd, stopping intermittently to accept a fist bump or a handshake. He was gracious, if curt, as his eyes had lasered away anything but Fox. Head down, his nostrils flared like an approaching golden bull about to charge.

This man wants to hurt me.

It was a knowledge Fox hadn’t recognized in a while, and it kicked his blood into overdrive.

Shut the smile down, he admonished himself. You don’t fight civilians. It wouldn’t be fair to have to hand the town hero his ass with everyone looking on.

Also, it was a special felony to hit a cop.

Instead, he treated the man as he would anything he could squish beneath his boot.

He ignored him.

Heroes tended to hate that.

The man’s shadow fell over him, and he let the sheriff stand there expectantly for what was probably the longest forty-five seconds of his life.

A life the span of which diminished the longer the fucker blocked Fox’s sunlight with that blond, blue-eyed, all-American, Cobra Kai menace.

It’d be adorable if this guy hadn’t put that grim mouth on Cady.

“Aren’t you supposed to be manning the booth?” Ethan finally asked, voice gravelly with irritation.

“Aren’t you supposed to be serving and protecting someone who needs it?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” Ethan spat on the ground, shifting his weight to his right foot. A southpaw. Fox wouldn’t forget that.

The sheriff was here protecting Cady.

From him.

“You don’t have to worry about me.” Fox did his best to put the guy’s mind at ease. “I won’t be here long.”

“The sooner you clear off, the better it’ll be for all involved.” Ethan’s Nordic face was hard and his eyes dead serious.

Fox snorted. “You get your one-liners from old westerns, cowboy?” He affected the sheriff’s stiff demeanor and clipped tone almost to perfection. “You’re not from around these parts, and we don’t take to outsiders.” He tossed his arm out in challenge. “The fuck out of here with that. You may be a big fish in a safe little tourist town, but even you have to know that this is bordering on harassment.”

“I’m not here as the sheriff,” Ethan said, glancing down the street toward Nevermore. “I’m here to tell you that if something happens to that woman—and I’m talking anything; if her blood pressure raises three fucking notches because of you—you’ll wish I’d treat you like a lawman should.”

Beneath his bristle, Fox had to admit the guy was genuine.

And wasn’t afraid of him.

Big mistake.

“She dumped you, man. No reason to threaten police brutality.”

The sheriff’s trigger finger twitched. “This has nothing to do with that. It’s that she can’t afford to give whatever you think you’re going to get from her. Got that? She’s halfway to disabled, in serious financial and possibly legal trouble. She has a lot of friends in this town, but she’s without any family or inheritances.”

Legal trouble? “I’m not going to take her money. I have my own.”

“Clearly,” Ethan said, dragging a scathing glare down Fox’s well-worn jeans and shirt.

Fox had zero need for a department store in the woods. He washed his clothes when they were dirty and cycled them for new ones when they were threadbare using the same PO box he gathered his book orders from.

“I’m not going to take any kind of advantage of Cady. I’m just doing some paid labor before I move on, is all. I’ve worked in construction my whole life.”

Ethan’s closed fist landed gently on the table, and he leaned on it, eyes glinting with a victorious knowledge. “Now why would you tell a lie that major?”

Fox narrowed his eyes, turning from warm muscle to cold iron in the space of a blink.

“That’s right.” Ethan’s lip lifted in a sneer. “I know your identi—”

A deafening crash sent seabirds lifting off every flat roof in Townsend Harbor Downtown, screeching their displeasure. Customers, musicians, artisans, farmers, and all other festival-goers turned toward Nevermore with a swell of audible exclamations.

Fox’s feet were already flying. Most people were smart enough to dive out of his way. Those who weren’t could rely on the sheriff to catch them, as his boots pounded the pavement only seconds behind.

“Cady?” Fox burst through the door hard enough to send it rebounding off the wall, causing several books to fall from their displays.

“Up here!” Her voice was strong. Good.

Taking two stairs at a time, he nearly bowled her over on the third-floor landing and had to wrap both of his arms around her and scoop her up for a few steps until he could apply the brakes.

They stood panting together until the sound of Ethan surging up behind him drove them apart.

Her entire shape would be forever imprinted on his body.

As would the fact that he’d plunged into her building and up her stairs without one iota of hesitation.

“You hurt?” he asked, even though it was obvious she wasn’t.

“What happened?” Ethan demanded from behind Fox. “Is everyone all right?”

She nodded, her eyes not completely focused. “I was downstairs in the back room looking for— I don’t remember what I was looking for now. But I thought there was an earthquake, the building was shaking so hard.”

No earthquake, but she still trembled with pale-faced aftershocks.

Had they been alone, it would have been impossible for Fox not to sweep her back into his arms.

“The…the roof.” She pointed past the kitchen and archway through to where her bed faced the wall of windows.

“Holy shit! Cady!” Gemma raced past them both and scooped her friend into a gigantic hug. “Oh my God, your roof is on your bed! Were you up here?”

“Downstairs,” Cady explained, extracting her limbs from her clinging best friend.

“What happened?” Gemma gaped at the mess through the dust swirling in the air. “We have to leave—these buildings are often infested with asbestos.”

“Not mine. Aunt Fern had it removed. It was super expensive.”

“What happened was this dipshit’s shoddy work could have gotten you killed,” Ethan said, jabbing a finger in Fox’s direction.

“Guess again.” Fox stepped forward. “I only temporarily patched a roof that’d become a problem because whoever did the remodel cheaped out on the materials.” He distinctly remembered learning that the Townsend family had greenlighted the project and approved (see: insisted on) the contractor.

Cady turned to Ethan. “Is that true?”

“It’s bullshit,” the sheriff said. “He’s the best in the state. Specializes in buildings this old.”

It was Fox’s turn to narrow his eyes. “Wouldn’t be the first time a public official received kickbacks.”

Ethan’s fists curled at his sides, “I don’t need kickbacks—you know that, Cady. I have a fortune of my own.”

“Yeah, because men who name their children after themselves are famous for only taking what they need,” Fox jeered.

The doubt in Cady’s eyes when she glanced back at him skewered him through. She was too nice to say anything out loud. Too eternally sweet.

But she was wondering if this was his fault.

Stalking to the pile of rubble burying the bed, Fox extracted a heavy hammer by its head so as not to disturb fingerprints on the handle. “This isn’t mine.”

“You could have planted that,” Ethan accused.

“Where would I pull these tools from, my ass? I don’t own anything, you dickstain.” Fox tossed the hammer at the sheriff’s feet. “Fingerprint that.”

Murder glinted in the man’s eyes, and Fox kept an eye on his gun hand. You never knew with these brick shithouse Viking motherfuckers.

“You don’t have to fingerprint it—that’s my hammer.” Cady picked it up. “I think I left it upstairs last time I was trying to pry temporary roof cement from where I spilled it on the wood railing.”

Fox hadn’t known she’d been up there working when he wasn’t around. What if it had collapsed when she was up there? She could have been seriously injured.

Or worse.

Ethan took a second to visibly swallow, temper turning his face beet red. “Don’t throw things in my direction,” he told Fox. “I’ll warn you once.”

Fox lifted an eyebrow. “And then what do you imagine you’ll do to me?”

“Guys.” Cady shook herself and left Gemma’s side to intervene. “Can we pause the dick-measuring contest and take a second to freak out about how I’m going to fix this?” She swept an arm to the Mack-truck-sized hole in the ceiling. “This is— There’s no way I can pay for this.”

“You have insurance,” Gemma reminded her. “And the town will help. It’ll be okay.”

“I think someone did this,” Fox said, stabbing a hand toward the mess. “It won’t be okay until we find who.”

“If there is a culprit other than the weather or you, I’ll find them.” Ethan put his hand on Cady’s elbow, causing Fox’s vision to bleed crimson. “Hey, why don’t you pack some stuff. We’ll get you settled somewhere for a few days, and make some calls to work this out, okay?”

Something about the way Cady looked at the sheriff put Fox’s hackles all the way up. She doubted Ethan, too.

The sheriff victoriously placed himself between Fox and Cady. “I don’t think your help will be needed around here anymore. You can get the fuck out.”

Cady shook her head, pulling her elbow away. “Hey, there’s no cause to talk to Bob like that. You’ve been an ass to him all day.”

“Bob?” Ethan’s icy glare glinted with triumph. “You don’t know what this guy is capable of, Cady.”

“Neither do you. I’m not capable. I need him.” She glanced over, clearing her throat. “I mean, I need his help. I can’t lift things and I can’t afford a W2 employee.”

His face softened. “I know, Cady, but that’s illegal, technically. Your business could get into a lot of trouble.”

“Are you threatening her?” Fox stepped closer.

“Step off, you shitheel,” The sheriff’s temper wasn’t lost, but his grip was slipping. “She’s not someone a man like you should be toying with.”

A man like him? What about Mr. One Percent parading as a Man of the People? “Fuck you, and the fortune your mom rode in on!”

Ethan advanced, an obvious directive in mind.

Fox’s demise.

Cady’s loud clap didn’t break the tension but interrupted a murder. “Oh look!” She put her hand on the doorjamb. “This door is open. It is amazing for going through. To leave and such. You both should make use of it.”

Shame immediately cooled Fox’s ire.

This was why he lived away from people. He was too reactive. Too used to war and instability and the rules in that court.

This? Society was a battleground with rules he’d forgotten.

“Yeah, it’s time I get the fuck out of here,” he said. “Before it gets dangerous.”

“Come on,” Cady said. “Ethan’s not the kind of officer that would—”

“I meant for him.” Fox didn’t bother to hide his sneer.

“I’ll meet you outside, motherfucker,” Ethan snarled, and the darkness in his eyes surprised Fox. And intrigued him. Was the mild-mannered, mama’s-boy sheriff someone dangerous?

“Come on, guys.” Gemma put a staying hand on Ethan’s arm. “You don’t want an altercation to spill out onto the streets. Lots of camera phones out there…”

Irony. It was delicious when it worked on your side.

Fox nodded. “Don’t worry. I’ll go.”

“No.” Cady’s sure voice surprised them all and glued Fox’s boots to the ground. “Wait.” Turning to Ethan, she said, “Are you going to treat this like a crime scene?”

The sheriff shut his eyes as if praying to every deity past and present to grant him the patience not to punch a private citizen. “Cady, there is no indication of foul play here. You have roof damage you need to fix immediately—by someone licensed and bonded—or something drastic will need to be done about this building.”

Fox, already on alert, let Sheriff Townsend’s words hit like a threat.

“I guess we’re done here, then.” Cady gave the sheriff a polite but distinctly cold and distant smile. “Thanks for your help, sheriff—I’ll spend all the time I don’t have searching for the one document I can’t find so I can stop your mother from being an eternal hurdle to my proprietorship of this building… The insurance company insists.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Ethan grumbled, turning on the heel of his shiny shoe. “This can’t be allowed to continue.”

Fox couldn’t agree more, though it remained unclear, as he watched Ethan Townsend’s broad shoulders disappear down the stairs, just whose side the sheriff was on.