Rising Storm (MacKenzie Cove Romantic Suspense Book 1) Read online

  "Ye-a-ah."

  The way Rosalie drew the word out made Alyssa nervous.

  The older woman sighed. "I should prepare you."

  "Oh?"

  "They hired Rollo MacKenzie."

  So there was a way for this day to get worse. Way, way worse.

  2

  ROLLO MACKENZIE INCHED around in the driver's seat, trying to ease the tension in his neck. Four days of constant driving had left his muscles frozen. His mind, too.

  His daughter, Wren, popped out her earbuds and eyed him from the passenger seat. "You're gonna need an adjustment when we get to Grandpa's. Does he know any good chiropractors in The Cove?" She scrunched up her nose and made a dismissive gesture. "Never mind. Grandpa probably doesn't know what a chiropractor is. He can't even get email on his iPhone. Aunt Viv'll know somebody good."

  Rollo grunted and forced himself to smile reassuringly. At fourteen, Wren was too observant. He didn't want her worrying about him, but she'd been fussing over him since she was tiny.

  An old soul, his mother had called her.

  And a beautiful one. Red-haired and fair, like her mother, she was all MacKenzie on the inside. Strong, stubborn, and entirely too smart for her own good.

  His baby girl. A few years from now, she'd be out of the nest. He squeezed the steering wheel, breathless with pain at the thought. He wasn't ready. Never would be, he suspected.

  Moving them back to tiny MacKenzie Cove from DC wasn't going the way he planned. Not that anything ever did. He wanted to take two weeks to show Wren some of the country, but the outgoing police chief was on emergency medical leave, and the city council had begged him to start two weeks early.

  He couldn't refuse, not when the town council had been so accommodating already. So he stopped long enough to show Wren some Anasazi ruins outside of Albuquerque, and took half a day to detour up past Flagstaff so she could at glimpse the Grand Canyon, and then he hit the gas and drove straight on.

  Home.

  The instant they descended toward the coast, he felt the pull. Like a magnet, the yearning clawed at him, tempting him to nudge the speedometer higher. He resisted. Getting a speeding ticket before he even checked in as the new chief of police would be a non-starter.

  Prompted by some inner memory, he rolled down the window and inhaled, drawing the memories straight into his lungs. The distinctive combination of cattle, freshly tilled soil, oleander, and ocean breezes was imbedded in his very genes. He'd been away too long.

  His father wouldn't agree, but they'd work things out. Maybe. Dad was old school, from his worn out work-boots to the old-fashioned pocket notebooks he used on investigations. Dad had never forgiven him for choosing the Marines over a position on The Cove's tiny police force. Coming home two decades later, even as the new chief, wouldn't cut it, not with Chip MacKenzie.

  Whatever faith his father had in him had evaporated a long time ago.

  As if sensing his restlessness, Wren raised one delicate eyebrow. "Are you going to like being a cop again?"

  He made a choking sound deep in his throat. Leave it to the fourteen-year-old to take him down a couple notches.

  She scrunched up her nose. "Sorry. Chief of Police."

  "Thank you." He snorted silently.

  She wasn't far off. Chief of a five person department didn't count for much.

  But it was a job, in MacKenzie Cove, that didn't require wearing oilskins and netting fish, or working for one of the family businesses. His brothers and cousins had that covered, anyway.

  Much as it would kill him to admit it to his father, police work was in his blood. The chief's position would be a great job, one he could dive into with his usual zeal. And he'd be home every night. Wren could count on him. So could his extended family. He'd left the care of his father to his siblings for way too long.

  This time, he was making the trip for good. No more deployments. No more Pentagon. No more crazy Washington gridlock. Wren deserved stability.

  He'd done his best to make a home for her these past six years, but she needed more than a cold brownstone in DC. With high school looming, she needed his big, rowdy family, clean air and wide open skies. She needed the ocean, her heritage as a MacKenzie.

  So did he.

  He yawned.

  From Moonstone to The Cove, Highway 1 sliced through the only stretch of straight coastline for a hundred miles. Soon, they'd crest the last of the hills and the road would curve, heading straight for home.

  He checked his watch. They'd make it in plenty of time for Sunday night dinner. Good deal. Having his siblings around would buffer his first night home with Dad.

  Wren fidgeted, adjusting her earbuds for the twentieth time since they turned off the main interstate.

  He flicked her a look. "You okay?"

  She extricated the white bud from her ear again, but she didn't nod. Or smile.

  "It'll be good to be home," he said.

  Only The Cove wasn't her home. She'd spent every summer at his dad's house, hanging out with her aunts and uncles, but moving was another thing entirely. She'd lived in the DC metro area for half her life. Now she faced beginning high school in a new town and adjusting to small town coastal life.

  One quirk of an eyebrow reflected her skepticism. "Sure."

  That look, cynicism tempered by a childish will to believe, hit him straight in the gut.

  "It'll be good," he insisted.

  "Okay."

  They rolled down the road in silence. He didn't realize he was strangling the wheel until they hit that first big curve outside of town and the hills melted away, revealing that magical view: a curved coastline punctuated by a sturdy volcanic plug, Falcon Rock, that guarded the entrance to the only protected bay for fifty miles in either direction.

  Wren's sharp intake of breath pleased him. She felt it, that same sense of wonder. Or at least a spark. He'd nurture it over the next few years, let it grow into the hunger that tugged at all the MacKenzies.

  She needed a place to belong. A family to belong to.

  He hadn't done the best job of providing that.

  "Starting a new school's gonna be hard. What if all the kids surf, or skateboard or...." She threw up her small hands. "I don't know. Whatever beach kids do."

  "You surf."

  "Not well."

  "You hardly get the chance. Uncle Teo says you're the most natural student he's ever had."

  "He has to say that. I'm his only niece. It's politically correct."

  "Uncle Teo? Seriously?"

  His second-youngest brother had an enormous heart...and no verbal filter. Whatever Teo thought came straight out of his mouth.

  That made her laugh for a second before the cloud returned. The anguish pinching her delicate features made him want to break something, but he couldn't fix this for her. Didn't need to. She was a MacKenzie, and she had survived a lot of hard things, starting with his endless deployments. Then he'd barely returned stateside before Maddie walked out on them, leaving a battle-hardened Delta Force operative to learn how to feed a nine-year-old, and braid hair.

  And through it all, Wren thrived. After her early years, this move would be a piece of cake. Not that he was dumb enough to say that out loud.

  The whine of sirens drowned out the mellow sounds of the surf. He checked his mirrors before realizing the noise came from ahead. Flashing lights wound their way up Black Hill, on the far end of town. Two patrol cars.

  The only two on duty on a Sunday afternoon.

  Huh.

  He was contemplating calling in, even though his first official day wasn't until tomorrow, but before he could decide, his phone rang.

  Not bothering to check the number, he punched the answer button on the steering wheel, while Wren watched, eyes wide. "MacKenzie. Go."

  A female voice came on. "Hi, Chief. This is Officer Rosalie Gamble. I know you don't start until tomorrow, but if you're in town, we just got a call about a break in and fire. Thought you might want a head's up."

  He hadn't met his staff yet, but he'd studied their personnel files. The only woman in the department, Officer Gamble got into law enforcement later in life. He admired the tenacity it must have taken for a middle-aged woman to make it through the law enforcement officer training course. He was looking forward to meeting her.

  "Absolutely," he replied. "Give me the details."

  She cleared her throat. "It's at the Martinetti farm."

  The hesitation in her voice caught his attention. Discomfort? Fear? He couldn’t wait to get to know his staff so he could assess their responses more accurately. For now, he'd have to resort to asking.

  "And?"

  Silence filled the line, punctuated only by the sounds of paper shuffling and a few mechanical beeps in the background. "I forgot. You wouldn't know. The place changed hands recently."

  "Huh." The old acreage had sat unoccupied most of his life, after the elderly couple who owned it moved inland.

  Over the years it became a party-hangout for the wilder teens, but even that died out. With the rocky coastline stretching for miles, there were far more convenient places to party.

  "Vandalism?" he asked.

  "Possibly. The perp left a threatening note."

  He eyed the horizon. The sun was nowhere near the water. Three hours of light left, at least. He should check out the scene now.

  "The homeowner got the fire out before it spread," Rosalie said. "No serious damage, but there was a note."

  "Gotcha. I'll drop my daughter off and head over." Dad's house was on the way to the scene. "ETA's probably twenty minutes."

  "I'll let the officers know." She responded quickly this time. "And Chief?"

  "Uh huh?"

  "There's something else."

  "Shoot."

&nbsp
; "The person who bought the place; it's Alyssa Archer."

  "Roger that." He ended the call, struggling to ignore the wash of emotions that pummeled him like a sneaker wave.

  His faith was solid these days, but he couldn't help wonder at the burdens the Almighty set on his shoulders.

  Alyssa Archer.

  His head swam. Her name conjured up too many feelings. Concern. Pity. Grief. And anger. Always anger.

  Welcome home, dude. Welcome home.

  3

  WHILE THE TWO officers combed her property, snapping photos of anything that might offer a clue to her tormentor, Alyssa paced the back porch, ears tuned for Rollo MacKenzie's arrival.

  She wanted to run, but MacKenzie Cove wasn't exactly a megalopolis. It wasn't even a real-sized city. There was nowhere to hide. Especially once the gossip started up again. Business might not suffer, but she would.

  As she should.

  The awful guilt sucked at her soul, just as raw and potent as it was when the accident happened.

  She hugged herself tighter. Get a grip. This wouldn't be the first time she had to face a MacKenzie.

  Rollo hadn't stayed in town long after the funeral. He was gone before she could work up the courage to offer her condolences. As if he'd be interested in that.

  The low growl of an engine warned her of his approach. She prepared herself as the vehicle climbed the hill.

  Would he be cold and distant, like his sister Viv? Blankly obtuse like Teo and Dante and the twins? Or would he radiate the same clinical distance as his father, Chip?

  The Pacific undulated, rippling toward her from the infinite horizon. Was there a place out there where guilt and regret disappeared?

  Right now, she'd give anything to find out.

  Tires crunched over the gravel, then a car door slammed.

  Whatever Rollo's attitude, she'd have to deal with it now. After one last look at the horizon, she headed around the side of the house.

  Dear Lord, I pray that Rollo and his family have found some measure of peace in their grief.

  After all these years, the words came automatically. But they offered little comfort. Not today, anyway.

  Her first glance of the former soldier told her nothing. He was standing next to his personal vehicle, thick arms folded over his broad chest, dark head bent, as he listened intently to his officers' report.

  Time had been kind to him. Tall and strong, with that sun-kissed olive complexion, a gift from his mother's side of the family, he was every bit as stunning as he'd been in high school. Better, actually.

  Age looked good on him. Laugh lines creased the skin around his eyes and bracketed his mouth, softening the hard edges. Strength tempered with wisdom and kindness.

  She had no idea where the thought sprang from, but it fit. Would it help ease their re-introduction?

  A lump rose in her throat. She swallowed over and over, forcing down the urge to cry. She had no right, not in front of a MacKenzie.

  "Alyssa." His greeting held nothing but professional courtesy. "Are you okay?"

  She raised her hands, hoping he wouldn't notice the trembling. "No damage done. Shaken up more than anything else."

  "I'll bet." He held up a finger. "Give me a sec to check in with my officers and I'll be right with you."

  "Sure." She stood around for a minute, uncomfortable, before she realized she didn't need to torture herself unnecessarily and headed into the house.

  The space that had seemed so comforting in its shabby disarray now looked like what it was, the cold inside of a dilapidated farmhouse no one had lived in for decades. Unsure what to do, she peeked into moving boxes. Pots and pans and glassware. She eyed the inadequate cupboard space. What to put where?

  Exhausted by the thought of the infinite decisions, she decided the small kitchen needed one more round of dusting before she set anything out. She grabbed a rag and started in. The mindless work helped some until Rollo interrupted her.

  A quick wrap on the doorframe announced his presence. "Alyssa?"

  "I'm in the kitchen."

  Such as it was. Except for a narrow path from the sink to the one small counter, the floor was piled with moving boxes. She hadn't even gotten around to buying a refrigerator yet. Besides, until her contractor re-drilled her well, water would be unreliable.

  "Just moved in, huh?"

  "Escrow closed yesterday."

  He nodded neutrally. "Officer Simpson says you've had a hard time getting the property. Sale almost didn't go through."

  "At several points. My credit's great, and I had the down payment, but there were a million roadblocks. Lost inspections, issues with the title, and a few other things. Probably par for the course with an old abandoned property like this, but even my realtor said it was strange."

  "Anything threatening before this?"

  "Not at all."

  "Huh." He rubbed his chin. "So why now?"

  The light scraping sound of his knuckles brushing stubble filled the space, reminding her how quiet it would be here, just her and the distant pounding of the waves.

  He glanced at her left hand. "Are you here alone?"

  "Yes." The acknowledgment came out way stiffer than she liked.

  He didn't respond to her defensive tone. Probably didn't even notice.

  "Until we know what this is about," he said, "you need to stay somewhere else."

  "I don't have anywhere else. I sold Nona's house to finance this place."

  And since the accident, her social life had dwindled to...nothing. Her friendship with Viv stopped dead that day—understandably—and she hadn't been brave enough to seek out new friends.

  "You can't stay here, Alyssa. I mean it. This is probably nothing, a drifter angry that his free shelter's gone, or kids wanting to keep their party spot, but until I'm certain, you need to be cautious."

  He was right. If anything happened, she was too far away to count on help, even if her cell phone did work. A landline was on her list of to-dos, but that wouldn't happen for months.

  "I'll stay at the diner." The old couch in her tiny office would suffice.

  Still, the thought made her ill. As if fourteen-hour days weren't enough, now she'd be there twenty-four seven.

  And she'd be leaving her new home unprotected. "What about this place? What if they come back? If I hadn't come home when I did, it would have been destroyed."

  He was eying the rough-hewn walls, the uneven floor and the windowsills with their dinged up paint. His thoughts were plain. Might be the best thing.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and winced. "You're insured, right?"

  "Of course."

  But she wanted this place the way it was. Even before the accident, she'd spent hours roaming the property, planning her renovations.

  She wanted to bring the old buildings alive, not pave over them. But, as usual, what she wanted sank to the bottom of the list.

  If the place burned, the place burned. She wouldn't put anyone else in danger over a handful of leaky old shacks.

  Rollo's mouth tightened. "It shouldn't be for long. I'll get my team on this first thing."

  "I appreciate it."

  "Just doing my job."

  Of course.

  He shuffled his feet. "You probably need to get a few things together. I'll wait until you're ready to pull out."

  "That's unnecessary." She wanted to escape. Lick her wounds. A brazen threat and an encounter with a MacKenzie in the same day. Awesome.

  He spread his legs, taking up even more of the space. "It's absolutely necessary."

  She knew when to retreat. "I've got a suitcase upstairs."

  It didn't take a second to grab the case she'd packed yesterday morning. Whatever was inside would do. Her brain was too full—and her heart ached too much—to process much of anything at this point. One thing had become clear as she clomped up the stairs, though. She needed to apologize. Her words might ignite a long-simmering anger, but she had to do it.

  She'd just hit the bottom stair when Rollo motioned her outside. "Let's hit the road."

  Normally, she'd take the reprieve, but after the day she'd had, she needed to let go of at least one thing eating at her.

  The suitcase's handle dug into her sweaty palm, as if warning her not to go there, but she tamped down her fear and opened her mouth. "There's something I have to say."