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part one
secrets
“Man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides.”
-André Malraux
chapter
one
Rylan was goingto be so excited.
Rhiannon Cross smiled to herself and reached to turn up the happy pop song blasting on the radio of her rental car. She hadn’t seen her brother in two long years, and the anticipation was making her antsy. He wasn’t expecting her for another week, but her teaching job in Japan had ended early, so she’d flown into San Francisco and rented a car to road trip up the coast.
She couldn’t resist surprising him.
The road ahead wound along the ragged cliffs of the coast while the bright California sunshine drenched the coastline in strands of gold, turning the waves below into sparkling sapphire. The sight was so breathtakingly beautiful that she could hardly believe it was real.
This, she thought, is where Rylan has been calling home.
Lucky guy.
Not that he didn’t deserve it. Ry deserved beauty and contentment after the hell he’d survived.
Her smile dimmed a little at the thought, and she shook her head to clear away the melancholy. Rylan was better now. He was no longer the broken, shattered husk of a human being he’d been when he returned from the SEALs without his arm. Now,he was a pillar of strength for those who had seen the worst life had to offer. He was a beacon of hope, a symbol of resilience. Through his own hardship, he had found a way to guide others through their dark times.
She was so damn proud of him.
She could already visualize him standing on the porch of his cabin, his prosthetic arm glinting in the sunlight, those expressive eyes of his crinkling at the corners as he spied her car pulling up the gravel driveway. He’d probably be wearing that worn-out plaid shirt he refused to part with, sleeves rolled up to reveal the colorful sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. His thick, golden brown hair would likely be a rebellious mess, as usual, the wild waves of it not quite tamed by any attempts to comb it. His lips would twist into that smile that filled any room with warmth, his arms opening wide for a hug.
She couldn’t wait. She missed that hug, the solidness of him, the security of his presence. It had been too long, far too long since she last felt the reassurance of her brother’s embrace. After all of her wandering, she was ready to be home, to feel that comforting familiarity again.
A sign ahead caught her eye, and she grinned. It was for one of those hokey, tourist-trap rest stops promoting a literal “hole in the wall” gift shop built into a cliff. She loved stuff like that and followed the sign off the highway. A quick stop wouldn’t hurt. She needed to stretch her legs, and—she eyed the giant iced coffee that sat mostly empty in her cup holder—she wouldn’t hate another bathroom break.
The rest stop looked like every other one she’d ever been to—a combination of kitschy charm and commercial exploitation designed to appeal to travelers like her. Weathered wooden picnic tables sat scattered around a grassy area overlooking the ocean. A few trees offered sparse shade, and a vending machinehummed loudly in the midday heat between the men’s and women’s restrooms.
But The Cliffside Curiosities gift shop was definitely unique.
Built directly into the rock face, it featured a quirky façade of mismatched stones and wooden beams that made it look like something straight out of a fairy tale… if not for the colorful banners and signs that declared, “World’s Best Fudge!” and “Local Artifacts and Souvenirs!”
Rhiannon grinned. It was perfect, and she couldn’t wait to explore the nooks and crannies of such a charming oddity.
The parking lot was dotted with a few other cars and one tour bus, families, and weary travelers stopping for a brief respite from the monotony of the road. As she pulled into a parking space next to a green Ford Bronco, she noticed a man stumble out of the driver’s seat. He looked like he was having trouble breathing, and concern rippled through her.
She shut off her car and jumped out, hurrying to his side. “Are you okay?”
He sucked in several deep breaths, then looked up at her. His eyes were hazel like her brother’s, but that was where the resemblance stopped. His were almost yellow and intensely predatory. She wanted to back up a step when he scowled but held her ground.
As he gave one sharp nod and reached for the door of his car, she noticed the black dog in the Bronco. At least, she thought it was a dog. It was covered in a long, thick, corded coat that resembled a mop and had a jaunty little ponytail holding the dreadlocks out of its eyes. She’d never seen anything like it?—
But, no, that wasn’t true.
Shehadseen a dog like it in a picture Rylan had sent her of him and his new friends. In fact, she’d seen this man with the predator’s eyes, too.
“Wait, I think I know you. You’re Pierce St. James, right?”
He straightened like she’d poked him in the butt—a very nice butt, she couldn’t help but notice—with a fire iron.
