Energized

Book 3: A Tidewater Novel

by Mary Behre

Genres: Romance; Paranormal Romance; Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

In the new Tidewater novel by the author of Guarded, a kiss between strangers draws both into unexpected danger and unforgettable desire . . .

She’s searching for a sign . . .

Hannah Halloran has always believed in her gift. The things she sees through her psychic touch have never led her wrong before. Not when they led her to an unforgettable night with a sexy marine at a bar. Not when she felt a need to leave her home and find the sisters she barely knows. And not now, when she is an unwilling witness to a brutal murder . . .

He’s ready to show her . . .

All Niall Graham wants is some peace. He’s recovering from the horrors of war, struggling to save his family’s restaurant, and desperate to forget Hannah, the beautiful woman who left him with memories of a mind-blowing night together and a bogus phone number. But a quiet life is hard to manage—especially when Hannah strides back into his restaurant with the news that a serial killer is on the loose and lurking closer than anyone could have guessed . . .

Release date: August 4, 2015

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 320

Sample

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

CHAPTER 1

DECEMBER

Fincastle, Ohio

“LOVER, FRIEND, OR family?”

Niall Graham looked from the glass of tepid beer he wasn’t drinking and into the golden-hazel eyes of the pretty, young bartender. Her long hair, the same color as her eyes, hung in ringlets to her breasts, except for one long pink braid that trailed from behind her left ear. In jeans and a black T-shirt, she looked young and fresh and hopeful. Everything he wasn’t.

Pulling a stained white towel off the black apron tied at her tiny waist, she wiped down the bar. Her voluptuous breasts bounced jauntily in front of him, jiggling the white letters on her shirt.

Keep calm and carry . . .

He couldn’t make out the rest of the words on her there-IS-a-God tight shirt. The letters disappeared beneath her curves. He must have stared at her chest too long because she folded her arms on the bar blocking his view. He whipped his gaze to hers.

“That wasn’t an invitation.” She winked and settled her chin on her hand, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I was asking if it was a lover, friend, or family member on your mind. It’s gotta be one of the three. Only they can make someone sit unmoving on a stool for four hours straight in a bar and not drink. You’ve been nursing that same beer since I served it to you at ten. Either you like your barley and hops the temperature and flavor of lukewarm bathwater or something else drove you to sit silently at my bar until past closing.”

Niall glanced around. Cheap tinsel and garish colored lights were strewn over every available space of the dark, wood interior until the bar looked like some warped version of a Tim Burton Christmas special. Dreary with a touch of hopeless wistfulness. It suited Niall’s mood perfectly.

Another bar, the one attached to the hotel where he was lodged for the night, had been noisy and crowded. For hours, he’d sat trying to drown out the noise of the patrons at Molloy’s Pub next door. The locals were throwing an old-fashioned Irish wake. When the noise shifted to depressing songs about fallen heroes, Niall had escaped.

After walking for fifteen minutes on the deserted street, he found himself outside a bar called Heaven’s Gate. The door swung open. A stringy man wearing a baggy Santa suit stumbled out and fell into the bushes on the side of the building. He popped back up as if on a spring, puked noisily, then sauntered up the street in the careful way drunks do when trying desperately to prove they’re sober.

Despite the inebriated Santa, or maybe because of him, Niall stared at the bar in wonder. It gleamed under a single light post at the town’s main intersection. Someone had recently painted a logo on the door. With its tilted golden halo dangling from the tip of a red and black pitchfork, it seemed to beckon him.

Perhaps, this gate will let me in.

Heaven’s Gate had been mostly empty. Plenty of room to move. Not that he’d done anything except sit. And sit. And sit more. Around him patrons drank, laughed, paired off, and stumbled out. He was only twenty-eight, but Niall didn’t have the energy to talk, to move, to drink.

Christ, he was so fucking tired. Tired of traveling. Tired of the Marines. Tired of life.

“Hey there, where’d you go?” The bartender touched his hand. Her cool fingers whispered across his skin. Something warm and gentle tugged deep in his chest. Her touch, though brief, was a balm to his battered soul. He looked into her eyes and they fucking twinkled. And he felt ancient.

But he didn’t want to look away from the first smiling face he’d seen in months that reminded him of home.

“Hiya, I’m Hannah. What’s your name, soldier?”

“I’m a Marine, not a soldier,” he retorted out of habit, but couldn’t stop his grin at her spritely chatter.

“Pardon the insult, Marine.” She saluted him quickly, then leaned against the bar again.

Normally, civilians who gave mock salutes annoyed him. He wasn’t annoyed by this woman. He was . . . charmed. A surprised chuckle escaped him. “None taken. And it’s Niall.”

“Niall.” She rolled the word on her tongue like she was tasting it. Tasting him.

An odd sexual dip hit him low in the belly. He’d been empty for so long, he’d practically forgotten what arousal felt like. He glanced at her smiling face again. She wasn’t classically beautiful. Her eyes were almost too big for her face. Her nose was slightly off center. Her mouth appeared to be smiling, even when she spoke. Certainly not the smoldering, pouty look of a model, yet it all added up to make her remarkably pretty.

“Tell you what, Niall,” she said, patting his hand and straightening. “Since you seem to want quiet, I’ll give it to you. I’m going to clean up because I’d like to close the bar. You go right on sitting there. Not drinking your beer.”

She winked again and went to work. He watched her move around the room, stacking chairs on tables.

The place was completely empty, save the two of them. He should go back to his hotel. But then she’d be here all alone. No doubt she’d closed the bar at night before, but did she often have strange men in there alone with her? Her lack of concern for her own safety had him sliding off the stool and crossing to her.

“Hannah.”

“So you do want to talk.” She met his gaze, a grin widening her mouth. She flipped over the armless wooden chair and slid it onto the cracked table. “The doctor is in. That’ll be five cents, please.”

“Five cents?” He froze midstep. With another chair in her hands, she laughed. “Haven’t you ever seen Charlie Brown?”

It took him a moment. “So does that make you Lucy?”

“I seem to be tonight. Did you know that Santa has a drinking problem and he’s a bit of a horndog too?” She slid the chair onto the tabletop. Her laughter rang through the empty bar like wind chimes. Low and musical.

“Yes. I witnessed his little alcohol issue when I arrived. He stumbled outside and planted face-first into the bushes.”

Her smile vanished. “Is Mr. Landsdowne still out there?”

She started for the door, but Niall caught her elbow. Her breasts brushed against his arm, making the hair on his arm stand on end. He had to clear his throat once to make his voice work. “No, he recovered quickly and headed north on the street. No doubt to find his bag and deliver toys.”

Hannah blew out a relieved breath, her breasts connecting with Niall’s arm again. Christ, it had been a long time since he’d been with a woman if this innocent touch had his balls aching. Releasing her, he stepped back and tucked his hands at the small of his back.

She patted him on the arm. “At ease, Marine.”

He laughed at himself. Technically, he was standing at ease and let his arms fall to his sides.

Hannah had already stacked another set of chairs before he remembered his concern. He followed her to one of the dozen small, square laminate tables, spread out in a semicircle around the twin pool tables. “Isn’t this dangerous?”

She upended the chair in her hands and slid onto the tabletop. “Not the way I do it.”

Niall copied her move with the next chair. Side by side, he towered over her. He was bigger than the average American man, but not by much. He’d bulked up in the Marines. Still, Hannah was a tiny thing that barely reached his shoulder.

“No, ma’am, I can see you can handle a bar chair with the best of ’em.”

“That’s me all over. Champion bar stool flipper.” She lifted the chair in her hands and deftly slid it onto the table. “And seriously, lighten up with the ma’am thing. This is Fincastle. You only say ma’am if you’re talking to the minister’s wife, bagging groceries, or doing it with a domme.”

Niall dropped the chair in his hands. It hit the floor with a clatter.

Hannah laughed. Her body shook and her cheeks were scarlet. “Just seeing if you were listening.”

“Yes, ma— Hannah.”

She sidled past him to the next table and Niall caught a whiff of her hair. Despite working in a bar that stank of stale beer and old smoke, Hannah smelled like honeysuckles. It reminded him of Tidewater, Virginia, in the spring. A pang of homesickness struck him.

“Isn’t it dangerous for you to be alone in the bar with a stranger?” he asked, shoving aside thoughts of home and continuing to help her stack chairs.

“There’s always one person left in the bar when I close. Usually, it’s a friend or neighbor.” She shrugged, finished another table, and moved on. “Besides, you’re harmless.”

That stopped him. “I’m a Marine. We’re not known for being pussies.” His cheeks burned. “Excuse my language, ma’am.”

“No more ma’am. I’m not the minister’s wife and you’re not bagging my groceries.”

His heart tripped in his chest at what she didn’t say. Too stunned to do more than stare at the brazen fairylike woman, Niall held the chair aloft.

“I’m not a domme either.” She winked and slid the chair from his hands. Setting it aside, she closed the distance between them, and patted his bicep. “Okay, Marine. You’re not exactly harmless. But I’m safe with you.”

“What makes you so sure of that?” Fuck, this was a small town, when a woman would not worry about being alone with a strange man at two in the morning. “You don’t know anything about me. I could be a serial killer or something.”

She arched a single brow at him and folded her arms. “Are you a serial killer?”

“No, but that’s not the point.” Why did he care? Why was he even having this conversation? He should go back to his hotel or just haul ass out of this pissant town. He’d done his duty by attending the funeral of a fellow Marine, now he should just leave. But she was looking at him with such amused defiance on her face he heard himself say, “You seem like a sweet girl and just the type a sick bastard would seek out so he could destroy her innocence.”

Her smile faded, but didn’t quite vanish. “First, I’m not a girl nor innocent. Hello! Bartender, here. Second, you’ve got a pretty jaded view of life, even for a Marine.” He opened his mouth to reply but she held up her hand and continued talking. “And third, I’m not afraid of you because you dropped your keys a couple hours ago.”

“My keys?”

She nodded, her tawny curls bobbing. “Yeah. I handed them back to you right after you didn’t drink the beer I set down in front of you.”

She grinned again and this time her whole face lit with delight.

Niall tugged his keys out of his pocket. They looked average. His mother’s house key, the key to the restaurant his family owned, and a key to the car he’d rented when he’d driven in from Columbus yesterday.

She held out her hand. “Give me your keys.”

“I’m not drunk.”

“Again, bartender! I know you haven’t had a drink all night. It’s my job to pay attention to the clientele. I also know you aren’t an alcoholic because while you didn’t drink, you also didn’t stare at the beer with lust or hatred. You wanted to be alone and weren’t waiting for anyone because you never once looked at the door tonight. And you aren’t married, or if you are, you never wear a ring. No tan line on your ring finger.”

“You’re very observant. I’m not married. Not dating.” Was she digging for information? A little unnerved and a lot flattered by her accurate assessment, he decided to turn the tables on her. “What about you? Boyfriend? Husband? Pet dog?”

“Nope. Single city for me. Not even a Fido to call my own.” She wriggled her fingers. “You gonna hand me those keys?”

Intrigued, he surrendered them. She closed her fist around the metal key ring and shut her eyes. Her brows knit as if in concentration. The room went unearthly quiet.

She shivered, then she shoved the keys back at him. He had to grab them quickly or they’d have hit the ground.

For a moment, her tawny-colored eyes were a bit unfocused and her lips moved but no sound came out. Then her eyes cleared and she stepped back.

“Whoa, you’ve got a lot going on in that noggin of yours, Marine.” Tossing her hair back over her shoulders, she tugged at the front of her shirt, holding it out so he could read it. “But to answer your question, it says, Keep Calm and Carry Condoms.”

Heat pulsed from his heart to his dick and back again. But a sliver of foreboding cooled his lust.

Ah, Christ, she thinks she’s a psychic.

And here he’d assumed he’d left that behind in Tidewater. His hometown seemed full to bursting with people claiming to have some sort of gift or curse or crift or what-the-fuck-ever.

“You trying to tell me you read my mind? I think it’s more you saw me trying to read your shirt.”

“I don’t read minds.” Sighing, she moved past him and continued setting chairs on the last two tables. “I figured you were staring at my breasts. It happens a lot in the bar. I mostly ignore ogling, unless some yahoo tries to find out if they’re real.”

Niall double-timed it after her, his jaw slack. “Are you saying guys ask if you have . . . you know?”

“Implants?” She snorted. “You know, for a Marine who says pussy, you probably shouldn’t shy away from an innocuous non–curse word like implants.

“Yeah, every time some lost tourist looking for Columbus stumbles into the bar, I get asked if my breasts are real. And more. One guy said he needed proof . . . after he shoved a twenty down my top and copped a feel along the way.”

“I hope you punched the holy shit—um, excuse me. Knocked the holy heck out of him.” Again, Niall was struck by her size. She was barely five-foot. Eccentric or not, what was she doing working in a bar by herself at night?

“No, I didn’t hit him. However, I did tell him the twenty lodged in my bra was my tip and he still owed me for his beer. He didn’t really argue. Granted, he’d sort of tripped over my knee in his crotch at the time.” She turned and cast a sly glance over her shoulder. “Then I had my friend the sheriff escort him to jail for assault.”

“Outstanding.” Niall returned her grin.

“Thanks, I thought so.” She shrugged. “My parents, they’re totally into nonviolence, weren’t too pleased that I’d tried to emasculate the mayor’s son.”

“I thought he was a tourist.”

“Yeah, he was.” She stopped Niall from setting the chairs on the next table by whipping out her bar towel and waving it. Wiping the laminate clean, she said, “Turns out, he was from the mayor’s first marriage to a stripper from Columbus. Mayor Hobbs didn’t even know he had a kid until the sheriff called to tell him I’d racked the guy in self-defense.” She tucked the towel back into her apron and shrugged.

“But your parents were angry?”

“Only until I pulled the twenty out of my bra.” Her fairylike face took on a mischievous glint. “Then Daddy had a little chat with him.”

“No one hurts Daddy’s little girl?”

“Something like that.” She flipped another chair, then started wiping down the bar.

They worked in silence for a few minutes. He’d stopped asking himself why he followed her around the bar and simply enjoyed being with her.

“I’m sorry about your friends.” Her words were soft, gentle. And startling.

“Pardon?” That sliver of discomfort arrowed up his spine. And the mind-numbing void he’d lived in since their deaths last month in Kandahar threatened to return.

“You asked me why I wasn’t afraid to be alone with you, it’s because you were thinking about them when you first sat down.” She tossed the towel into a receptacle, then returned to her spot behind the bar. While she spoke, she set out two shot glasses and grabbed a bottle of Patron Silver. Pouring the tequila she said, “I knew one of them. Danny Molloy. He was two years ahead of me in high school. I didn’t know him well, but when news of his death hit town, we all felt it.”

Niall wanted to wrap himself in the nothingness that he’d worn like a shield since the explosion at the barracks. Drift back into the void of emotionless existence. Instead, he dropped onto a seat across from the quirky attractive bartender. “I’m sorry about Danny-boy.”

She slid the shot toward him and lifted her own glass, her eyes somber. “I’m sorry for you too. I barely knew him. But you were friends. And you lost another friend too. Iggy, right?”

“How did you know that?” Niall’s fingers tightened so fast on the little glass, tequila sloshed over the top and onto the counter.

“I told you, already. Your keys.” Without missing a beat, she ripped off a paper towel from a roll standing next to the cash register and blotted up the mess. “I didn’t mean to pry. When I picked up the keys the first time, the memory kind of smacked into my brain.”

“You some sort of gypsy bartender?” he asked trying to add levity back into their discussion. And hoping the pretty bartender wasn’t a nut job. Or worse, that she wasn’t really psychic. He already knew one. According to his old friend, being crifted absolutely sucked most of the time. But if Hannah did have some sort of cursed gift, he hoped it wasn’t mind reading. Inside his head was the dead last place he’d wish anyone.

“No, I’m really an artist, but I fill in as a bartender during college breaks to help out my parents. They own Heaven’s Gate.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep, it’s my parents’ place.” She smiled at him, then shook her head. “No, full truth, I’m not really an artist. No money in it. I’m studying to be a journeyman electrician. So I guess you could call me a psychic electrician.”

Niall wasn’t sure how to respond. Was she joking about the psychic thing? She seemed pretty legitimate when holding his keys. And no one here could have known about Iggy. He’d only arrived in Kandahar the day before the explosion.

Was it worth the stress of wondering if she was crazy or not? She didn’t seem like the phonies he’d met over the years. But she also seemed far more comfortable with her gift than his friend back in Tidewater. Then there was the Iggy thing. Hannah had been spot-on about him.

Maybe Niall should just leave the bar and this confusing but fucking attractive woman. He stared into her guileless golden eyes and didn’t move.

Hannah lifted her glass and clinked against his. “To the friends that had you sitting in my bar all night.”

*   *   *

HANNAH SWALLOWED THE tequila and waited. For a heartbeat, it appeared the hot Marine wouldn’t drink. Then he lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed. She’d have to cover the cost of the top-rail alcohol but it would be totally worth it. For him.

She’d sensed more than seen that Niall needed comfort. He’d lost friends in a vicious attack. When she’d held his keys both times, she’d slid into a moment in his memory. Every detail she experienced had been through his senses. The attack had been horrific. The choking stench of sand and blood and death drove her to pouring them each a drink.

She also remembered hearing him talk to someone named Iggy as he lay dying and pinned on top of Niall in the rubble. Niall’s gut-wrenching hopelessness at being unable to help his friend had been almost more than she could bear. It was why she’d given him back the keys so quickly. Why she’d immediately sought out the strongest drink in the bar to wash away the vision.

“It’s my turn to ask,” Niall said, drawing her gaze. “Where’d you go?”

Into your past. But she didn’t want to say that. They’d been having a lovely chat before she’d stupidly brought up his friends. She’d only wanted to play a little. Dip into his head and get a reading on him that would make them both laugh. Learn some fun secret, like a Firefly or Buffy obsession, the kind of energies she tended to pick up in the bar from other patrons.

She hadn’t anticipated slipping into the Marine’s painful past twice. Certainly not when he’d been showing her what she’d hoped was lustful attention.

Hannah glanced into the Marine’s vivid green eyes and saw attraction there. And something more. Something sensual. And strangely peaceful. The sight made her whole body tingle.

“I’m trying to decide if I want to get you drunk and take advantage of you,” she said, hoping to throw him off guard.

He rewarded her when his black brows winged up. She didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened to the color of summer grass. He poured himself another shot. “Maybe I’m the one who’s in danger in this bar.”

Interestingly, he didn’t immediately pour her one. He lifted the bottle in the air in question and waited for her to nod. Such a gentleman. And so handsome. His blue-black hair was cut high and tight in typical Marine fashion. His jaw was sharp and strong.

Most of the night, he’d nursed his beer, his mouth drawn in a grim line. He hadn’t been rude to the few patrons who had braved Heaven’s Gate. Instead, he’d been quiet. Reserved. Seated at the end of the bar as if unaware of the world around him.

Most of Fincastle had gone to Molloy’s for the wake. No surprise, since Danny’s family owned it. Normally, Heaven’s Gate and Molloy’s competed for business, but tonight Hannah had been relieved to see her parents’ bar mostly empty.

“So are you going to get me drunk and stay sober?” Niall asked, sliding her glass closer to her. “Doesn’t exactly seem honest.”

Could she do something like this? She’d been half-joking when she suggested getting him drunk. She’d only ever had one lover. If she couldn’t keep the dull and frankly boring Bryan happy, what did she have to offer the Marine? Then again, Bryan had been dull and boring in bed so perhaps it wasn’t her fault. And this man, this wonderfully complex man in front of her, was anything but dull.

She needed a sign that her sudden and unexpected impulse to take the Marine home was the right one. Just one little teensy sign.

He lowered the bottle, the light in his eyes dimmed a bit. And she knew. For tonight, she could give him comfort and give them something they both needed. An escape.

“What if I just offer to take you upstairs to my apartment? I bet if we think about it, we can come up with something to do that would make us both feel good.”

The pulse in his neck sped up, otherwise, he didn’t move. He eyed her speculatively. “You seem like a nice girl. And I’m not going to lie. Going to bed with you would be the best thing that’s happened to me in months. But I feel like I’m taking advantage. I’m a little old for you.”

Surprised laughter burst from her. God, she liked this guy. If his words had been a sign they would have been neon green. She was definitely making the right choice. “You’re what, twenty-nine?”

“Twenty-eight,” he replied almost defensively.

“Six years, Marine.” She waved to the space between them. “All that separates us is six years. And I told you. I’m a woman not a girl. But I am nice. Very nice. And I think you could use that tonight. Whadaya say?”

*   *   *

NIALL STOOD AT parade rest in her tidy bedroom waiting for Hannah to come out of the bathroom. The walls might have been white but there was color everywhere. Tie-dyed curtains. A hand-braided rug straight out of the 1970s covered the faded hardwood floor. Watercolor paintings of sunsets, beaches, and blue owls gave the space a rich personality. Hannah’s decorating style was eclectic and eccentric. Niall really liked it. It felt more homey than any place he’d stayed since he’d joined the Marines ten years ago.

The bathroom door opened. The light casting Hannah in silhouette didn’t disguise that now she wore only her tight black T-shirt and panties. Hands at her sides, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, she said, “So . . .”

Don’t change your mind. Oh, please, don’t. With his head buzzing from the two shots of tequila—he hadn’t had the heart to tell her he really didn’t drink—he might just get down on his knees and beg if she changed her mind.

“So,” he replied. He wanted to go to her. He hadn’t even kissed her before accepting her invitation. And tasting her ranked high on his list of things he’d most like to do.

“Hey, Marine?” She closed the short distance between them. In her bare feet, she had to tip her head way back to look at him. It made him feel too big. Her, too small. “You plan to get undressed anytime soon? Or do you just plan to drop trou and do it with your boots on. ’Cause hot as that sounds, I was kind of hoping for something that would last a little longer than fifteen seconds.”

Niall frowned and relaxed his arms, tucking his thumbs in the pockets of his cargo pants. But her words baffled him. “I don’t think I’ve ever had sex end in only fifteen seconds.”

“You’re so literal. No, I bet you haven’t.” She laughed while twisting her pink braid between her fingers. “But I bet if we get naked, you could go all night. Wanna find out?”

Her words were brazen but her cheeks glowed red. For all her bravado, she was obviously not in her comfort zone. Not that Niall was either, but damn, he wanted to be. He wanted her, but not if she was nervous to be with him.

Niall opened his mouth to suggest they slow down—goddamned moral code—when she grabbed her shirt by the hem. In one fluid motion, she whipped the shirt over her head, sending it and his resolve sailing to the floor.

Then she stood before him, wearing only panties. Her breasts were perky, lush, and tipped with dusky rose-colored nipples.

Niall’s mouth watered for a taste. Reining in his control, he slid his gaze up her body. Her skin had a healthy glow. Freckles dotted her naked shoulders and he wanted to kiss each one. There was a tiny scar on her chin that didn’t dim her beauty. If anything, it made her more attractive.

She licked her full lips. They shined in the lamplight.

Niall swallowed hard.

Hannah was a feast and he didn’t know where to begin. He wanted to taste her from the backs of her knees to her earlobes. Still, he didn’t move.

She shivered and raised her hands to cover her breasts.

“Changed your mind?” Of course she’d fucking changed her mind. She’d been naked and waiting for him to make a move. Instead, he’d turned into Forrest Gump and just stared.

“I’m standing naked in my apartment in the middle of one of the coldest Decembers in history.” She shook her head slowly. “I’m chilly and hoping a really sexy Marine will come and sweep me off my feet.”

Then she lifted onto her toes, wrapped her cool hands around his neck, and pulled his face to hers. He wasn’t sure what to expect. Given her size, he wouldn’t have been surprised had she given him the lightest of delicate kisses.

But there was nothing. Nothing. Not one damned thing delicate about what her lips and teeth and tongue did to his. And holy fucking God, he was rock hard for her. He’d had sex before with more women than he probably should have. Never had he felt the fervor in his blood that t