Fortunate Harbor

Book 1: Outer Banks Novel

by Davis Bunn

Genres: Religious & Inspirational

Synopsis

For readers of Nicholas Sparks and Karen Kingsbury, the first in a dazzling new series of romantic, feel-good standalone stories with a dash of adventure set against the dramatic landscape of North Carolina’s Outer Banks—the perfect place for second chances, bittersweet love, and a thrilling quest—from internationally bestselling author Davis Bunn.

It’s a promise of better things to come . . .
 
With its colorful history, and miles of sand, tide, and windswept oaks, North Carolina’s Outer Banks is a paradise for locals and tourists alike. For Curtis Gage, returning after nineteen years to be the new assistant manager of a 5-star, ocean-front resort, it’s a chance to start a new life—and come to terms with an old one. This is where his father, a revered police chief, died in the line of duty. Whisked away by his mother when he was just a child, Curtis always yearned to come back and reclaim this magnificent necklace of islands as home.
 
But he never imagined the risks . . .
 
This coastal haven is in attorney Rae Alden’s blood, and the resort’s expansion is encroaching on precious Fortunate Harbor. For Rae and the old-town families she represents, their generations-old heritage is not for sale for all the money in the world. Who’d have guessed that the ordeal would tie Rae to Curtis, a childhood sweetheart whose family tragedy once converged, fatefully, with her own past? The landgrab is reuniting them in more ways than one. Because the property is more valuable than even Rae believed. The proof is in a secret deed and a long-lost map to a bona fide buried treasure.
 
If pirate legends, rekindled romance, and real-life adventure aren’t enough to make the heart pound, Curtis and Rae discover they aren’t the only ones hunting. In love and in danger, they have each other, and are finding a place to call home. That alone is a fortune worth fighting for.

Release date: April 29, 2025

Publisher: Kensington Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

The Morehead City Hall was an awkward location for this meeting. As was how the mayor had scheduled the assembly for early afternoon. Rae Alden suspected both formed part of the mayor’s reasoning. Atlantic Beach would have better suited most of the attendees. But the locals who wanted to come and shout and argue, the same group who had been fighting against this act for two years, knew their attendance meant becoming mired in afternoon traffic. The mayors and county commissioners were all in favor of this new hotel resort, and specifically chose this venue to keep as many of their opponents as possible fuming at home. Yes indeed, Rae decided. This was absolutely the place to meet.

Just the same, the assembly hall was almost full. She had found a chair by the rear left corner and hoped no one would recognize her. Rae had no real reason to be here, other than she desperately needed a word with her uncle, the sheriff of Carteret County. And Colton Knox had told her in no uncertain terms that between handling spring breakers and preparing for this meeting, if her business couldn’t wait until Monday, then it had to be handled here.

Rae had hoped to arrive early, speak with Colton and then slip away. The last thing she wanted, the very last, was for someone in this group to recognize her. But her lunch meeting had dragged on, which had left her rushing across the bridge connecting Atlantic Beach to Morehead City with only seconds to spare.

Early in the locals’ futile quest to halt the Fortunate Harbor project, Rae had been hired to file a legal brief on the group’s behalf. Despite being in total sympathy with the locals and their objections, six weeks of digging into court records had revealed the utter futility of their protest, and Rae had backed out. She was still waiting to be paid for her time.

Then someone slipped into the chair next to her, and a voice said, “Rae Alden. As I live and breathe.”

She steeled herself for the acidic comment that was bound to follow. Then she looked over and saw the man behind the smile. “I don’t believe this.”

Curtis Gage looked exhausted. And as handsome as ever. “Been a while.”

“Twelve years.”

His smile was canted slightly, a look that took her straight back. When they had been young and desperately in love, Rae had always thought Curtis resembled a mischievous ocean sprite whenever he smiled. A surfing sand-encrusted sprite, eager for the next good time.

Not anymore.

Rae flashed back to their last meeting. The sunburnt kid still semibroken over the loss of his father, his mother remarried and taking him away from the only home he had ever known or wanted. They had clung together in the desperate embrace of teens in love. Both of them weeping. Saying farewell. Promising to stay in touch. No matter what.

Twelve years.

Rae asked, “Does Emma know you’re here?”

“That’s the next stop on my agenda.” He took in her rough silk slacks, sleeveless cotton top, gold watch, cork sandals, tan. “Wow, Rae, just look at you.”

She was thinking the same thing. Curtis Gage wore a GQ version of weekend casual: gabardine slacks, silk knit shirt, alligator belt, Italian loafers that looked so supple he could probably roll them up like socks. If he was carrying any excess flab, she could not see it. His perfectly styled hair still held to that same remarkable blend of blond and brown, but now there were also premature silver threads. Finely woven lines emanating from the edges of his eyes and mouth testified to time’s uncaring hand. If she had not known Curtis was twenty-nine, she would have guessed ten years older. The thought pierced her heart.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“My boss thought I should come and observe.”

“Don’t tell me you work for these people.”

“Not the resort. The parent company’s home office.” He must have seen the fiery spark in her gaze, and added, “Sorry.”

Before she could come up with a response, the mayor of Morehead City stepped to the podium, blew on the microphone, and said, “Let’s go ahead and get started.”

Edgar Front, mayor of Morehead City, was a portly gentleman with the formal air of a pompous vicar. Edgar was a retired banker and looked the part. Unlike the beach-casual attire of almost everyone else in the hall, Edgar wore a starched shirt and trousers to a dark suit. A tie dangled over his ample belly like a silk lure. But he was meticulously honest and so trusted he also served as senior county commissioner. Edgar kept the region’s books in perfect order. He ran roughshod over both unscrupulous builders and time-wasting bureaucrats with ferocity.

Three chairs were positioned on the stubby platform that served as a stage for winter recitals. But the storm season was behind them, spring breakers had come and gone, and the late April evening held an unseasonable warmth. This was Rae’s favorite time of year. Not to mention how the afternoon was now spiced by the gentleman seated beside her.

As Edgar went through the long-winded process of introducing Rae’s uncle and the third man seated on the platform, Rae cast a few glances at this stranger who had once been the other half of her own heart’s flame.

Then she noticed the hands. To be specific, the shallow crease on the left hand’s fourth finger. The ring that was no more. Whatever it was that had caused the marriage to end, the hollow point at the center of Curtis’s gaze now had definition. Some years-long battle had creased his features and erased the boyish excitement that had once defined him. In its place was . . .

Rae was suddenly charmed by the prospect of discovering who Curtis Gage had become.

Which, of course, was ridiculous. Beyond absurd.

She was, after all, one step away from becoming officially engaged to the second love of her life.

Her ideal mate. A nearly perfect man. Everybody said so. Almost.

Just the same . . .

Mayor Front gestured to the uniformed deputy standing by the rear doors. “No one else is to be admitted. If they can’t be here on time, they’re not welcome. There’s been a lot of hot air expelled over this issue, and we’re not having any more of it tonight.”

The mayor’s stern tone definitely rustled some outraged feathers.

Edgar glared at the muttering crowd, waiting. When they finally settled, he went on. “Sheriff Knox and his deputies are here to make sure everybody behaves. If you don’t, you’ll be expelled. If you make trouble, we’ll invite you to spend the night as a guest of the county. Is that clear?”

The harsh no-nonsense introduction stilled the crowd, which now numbered so many they lined the rear and the sidewalls.

“Now some of you probably came here thinking it was as good a time as any to cause a ruckus. I’m telling you clear as I know how, you’re wrong. Those of you who came wanting answers, fine, you’re welcome. Everybody else, now’s your chance to leave.” He gave the crowd another glare. “At my personal request, the governor has sent down Brian Sparks, director of the state’s division of Parks and Recreation. Brian is also head of the parks’ Trust Fund Authority. And he serves on the board of the nation’s Wildlife Fund. I’ve known Brian for more than twenty years. He’s a good man and he deserves your respect. Is that clear?”

Rae noticed the confusion on many faces, and silently agreed. She had come expecting debate, argument, perhaps some fireworks of a down-home variety. Her island neighbors were here to vent their opposition to the entire project. Instead, they were being ordered to behave.

When Edgar was certain the crowd was as close to being under control as they’d probably come, he turned and said, “Brian?”

He was a tall man, sun-blackened and very fit. He wore an ironed cotton shirt and a wool tie in the awkward manner of somebody who probably needed help making the knot. Rae put his age in the mid-fifties. The hands that gripped the podium were massive. He spoke with the calm authority of a man accustomed to being obeyed.

“Evening, folks. I’ll do my best to answer any questions you have.”

Harvey Sewell, a legal windbag of the first order, rose from his place on the front row. He introduced himself and began, “I am the official representative of the Friends of Fort Walton Park.”

“I know who you are. State your question.”

“I have filed an injunction on behalf of my clients—”

“That injunction was dismissed with prejudice last week.” When a murmur of astonishment ran through the assembly, Brian added, “Dismissal with prejudice means the judge felt the case has no legal merit.”

Rae positively enjoyed watching Harvey’s features swell up like a frog ready to croak. She had come up twice against him in court. The man balanced a lazy attitude toward homework with an overabundance of windage. She thought the locals’ choice of Harvey as her replacement was very telling. Rae was not especially in favor of the resort project, but the law was the law.

Harvey yelled, “I will appeal that decision!”

“Appeal all you like. It won’t get you anywhere, and you know it.” He scanned the crowd. “Next question.”

One of the few women in the group whom Rae actually liked demanded, “How can you let them build on park land?”

Brian looked mildly astonished by the question. He turned and looked at the mayor, who said, “Told you.”

Brian nodded once and faced the assembly. “Folks, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this. But it’s time you faced facts. There are four parts to answering this question. Firstly, the hotel has been open almost nine months now, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Second, the consortium has completed almost all the residential development’s roads and the first golf course. Seven homes are nearing completion. The oceanfront clubhouse will open in September. All the permits are in order, the governor has given his—”

That was as far as they let him go.

The trio on the stage let them shout for only a minute or so before Rae’s uncle rose from his seat and motioned to the deputy standing by the rear door. The deputy opened the exit and spoke to someone outside. Immediately two more deputies entered the hall. The sheriff stepped down and walked the central aisle as the first deputy started up toward him, while the other two moved along the outer wall. Their unified presence had an almost immediate effect. The shouting invectives were reduced to angry murmurs.

Brian Sparks continued in the same calm manner, as if the furor had never happened. Or at least had left him unscathed. “The third part of my answer is just as simple. Eighty-eight percent of the Fortunate Harbor’s resort property has always been in private hands . . .”

Brian waited while Colton stepped toward a trio still on their feet. Rae’s uncle jabbed his finger downward. When they were reseated, Colton lowered both arms. But he remained where he was, the gun-barrel gaze tight. Steady.

Brian started to continue, then saw a hand raised. “You there, go ahead.”

A man Rae did not recognize said, “But the family willed all that land to the wildlife conservation fund.”

“I know that’s what everybody’s been wishing had happened. Including myself. Around twenty years ago, the late George Cochrane made a handshake deal with my predecessor. Cochrane gave my predecessor his word. But he never actually got around to jumping through the legal hoops. When his widow recently passed away . . . When was it, Edgar?”

“Almost four years back,” the mayor replied.

“The Cochrane heirs secretly sold the property to the consortium who built the Fortunate Harbor Hotel. We only learned about the transaction after the fact.” He studied the audience, saw the shock on many faces, and added, “I was told you folks were advised this happened.”

This time, it was the sheriff who declared, “They most certainly were.” Colton pointed in Rae’s direction. “By their former attorney, who is seated right back there.”

As she rose to her feet, Rae had a bitter suspicion this was why Colton had insisted on their meeting right here. So she could tell the assembly, “That is correct. I informed the group’s leadership and was dismissed for speaking the truth.”

The mayor called, “Where are they seated?”

Rae spotted the Atlantic Beach mayor doing her best to hide in plain sight. The middle-aged realtor was serving her fourth term and succeeded by being everybody’s pal.

Rae decided to fib. “None of them are present.”

Edgar gestured to the group at large. “Why didn’t you tell the others assembled here?”

“The leadership ordered me not to say anything more about it,” Rae said. “I was told Mr. Sewell would handle all related matters from that point on.”

The lawyer bounced up and sputtered, “This is the first I’ve heard of any such—”

Edgar snapped, “Sit down, Harvey.”

Rae took that as her signal. As she retook her seat, a gray-haired matron three rows up turned and hissed. “Traitor.”

“Quiet!” Colton’s command was not actually shouted. It only seemed so.

“That leaves the fourth portion to my answer. It is true that the park sold some of its land.” Brian Sparks raised his voice to continue. “With the governor’s direct approval, the division deeded six and a half acres to the consortium. The simple fact is, we need the money. As most of you know, the last hurricane effectively destroyed the park’s beach access. In return for acreage that did not even contain a hiking trail, the consortium has rebuilt and expanded the beach frontage. It now contains two new crossovers, lighting, sewage, showers, parking for over a hundred vehicles, and a new structure that’s been leased by a local restaurant. The total cost to the consortium was over eight million dollars. The grand opening was . . .”

“Two and a half months ago,” the mayor offered. Edgar sounded beyond weary. “Many of the folks gathered here attended. Which means they heard me thank Fortunate Harbor for the part they’ve played in our region’s future.”

Brian gave that a moment. When no one else spoke up, he finished, “Folks, if you ask me, we need more deals like this. The state’s legislature continues to strip away the parks’ budget. Our trust fund is basically empty. This way, everyone benefits.” He ignored the rising mutters and told the mayor, “I guess that just about does it.”

Mayor Front rose to his feet and called, “This meeting is hereby adjourned!”

The meeting ended on that sour note. The woman who had condemned Rae started to make her way over, no doubt to add further vitriol. But Sheriff Knox stepped into the woman’s path. Colton did not speak, because there was no need. The sheriff’s looming presence redirected the woman toward the exit. She shot a final venomous glare in Rae’s direction and left.

Colton pretended to inspect his niece. “No bloodshed or gaping wounds. I’d call that a success.”

Only then did Rae notice that Curtis had slipped away unnoticed. “A different person might suspect you had me come so I could back your play.”

“I admit the thought did cross my mind.” Colton pointed them into chairs midway along the empty row. “Any particular reason why that woman was so riled?”

“I told her the truth.”

Colton stretched out his legs, revealing polished Western-style boots. “Folks like that, if you accept their filthy lucre, they expect you to tell them what they want to hear.”

“They still owe me nineteen hundred dollars.”

“Don’t hold your breath.” He glanced at the exit. “Was that Curtis Gage I saw sneaking out with the crowd?”

“None other.”

“Man’s grown up.” He checked his watch. “I can only give you a minute. Two alerts came in while the parks ranger was deflating some egos.”

Rae launched straight in. “You said to inform you of any activity regarding the Cape Fortune estate.”

Colton lost his good humor. “Has Landon Barrett shown up?”

“No, and that’s the problem. His escrow account is empty, and the property taxes are overdue. Either I obtain the necessary funds or the estate will be seized.”

“You still hold power of attorney?”

She nodded. “The agreement was open-ended. At Landon’s instructions.”

“When did you last get paid?”

“The funds ran out at the end of last year.”

Colton’s smile held no humor. “Some folks might say you’re making a habit of taking on clients who don’t pay.”

Rae felt her face go red. “I didn’t stop by so you could lecture me on how to run my practice. You told me to inform you of any activity.” She started to rise. “Since you’re so all-fired busy—”

“Slow down there. I’m sorry, Rae. I shouldn’t have said what I did, especially today.” He paused. “Now’s the point where you accept my apology.”

“I’ll think about it.”

This time, the smile was genuine. “Same old Rae.”

“May I go now?”

“In a minute.” He leaned in close. “This is strictly confidential. I was recently visited by two DEA agents. They stopped by my office and asked about Landon Barrett.”

“When was this?”

“Seven weeks back, give or take.”

“Colton, why am I only hearing about this now?”

“They informed me Landon Barrett is now part of a formal investigation, then specifically ordered me not to tell you. Those agents clearly didn’t want to give Landon’s attorney of record a chance to put up roadblocks.”

Rae settled back. Crossed her arms. Blanked out the noise. Thinking. “Is my client the focal point of their investigation?”

“They didn’t say. But from the little they told me, I think Barrett is a sidebar issue to something much bigger.” He gave that a beat, then continued, “You and I both know there were suspicions surrounding Barrett from the get-go.”

Rae did not respond.

“The DEA is probably worried he granted you power for some nefarious reason.”

“Everything I’ve done for that client is totally aboveboard,” Rae said. “All my work focused on the Cape Fortune property. Or rather, what’s left of it after those two hurricanes.”

“And that’s exactly what I told the agents.” When Rae did not respond, he went on, “Look at it from their side. There’s a chance you and I are both taking money from the guy to help him do whatever it is they suspect him of doing.”

Rae breathed around the enormity of what she was learning. “And you’re telling me now because . . .”

“Whatever steps you decide to take, you need to make sure they’re totally aboveboard.”

“That’s the only way I operate,” Rae said.

But Colton was not done. “Now more than ever, Rae. There’s a good chance those agents will put you and your activities under a microscope. Looking for any possible reason, however flimsy, to tie you up in federal chains.”

Rae had intended to go straight from the meeting to the county courthouse to take care of semitrivial matters that a larger firm would assign to a staffer. But she was the one-and-only. A young mother desperate to escape her twin infant daughters worked part-time, handling office work and keeping the practice’s books. Otherwise, Rae was on her own. Which was precisely the way she wanted things to stay.

But the conversation with her uncle, the way Colton had stressed his warning and hammered in his concern, slowed her movements. She felt as if she was already under a federal microscope. Being watched, studied, judged.

She stopped at the coffee shop favored by many of the attorneys and courthouse workers. Ever since starting her solitary practice, there had been moments when Rae had felt overwhelmed by . . .