Luna Junction 2 Forbidden Mate (W) (2 page)

As far as I knew, my father still owned
the boxy tourist trap gift shop off State Route 64. I had finally
reached the segment of I-40 which passed through the picturesque
town of Williams and followed the signs for SR 64. There, on a
modest green and white sign were the words which caused my heart to
lurch with recognition.

LUNA JUNCTION 10
Miles

The landscape seemed smaller than I
remembered, more intimate. But it was all as familiar as the back
of my hand. The building, labeled simply ‘Gift Shop’ stood on a
particularly lonely stretch just outside of town. The exterior
badly needed a face lift and a coat of paint. Three cars were
parked on the gravel in front and I recognized my father’s ancient
orange Ford.

I turned off the engine and sat
silently for a moment. If I’d been sure my car was up to it, I
might have returned to the Interstate and seen what else the world
had to offer. Going back to San Bernardino was not a plan. No,
there had to be someplace new and unknown, without history and
without hurt. Someplace else. I swallowed thickly and opened the
door. My father must have seen my car pull up. He was already
standing by my front bumper. Max Jaeger had grown softer and
heavier since I last saw him. The resignation in his lined face was
almost painful to behold.

“
Artemis,” he
said.

My hands clenched involuntarily. He was
the only one who still called me by my given name. My mother had
arranged for it to be legally changed to my nickname once we’d
reached California. I was only Acie Jaeger. Artemis Cynthia Jaeger
had been left behind in Luna Junction.

“
Hey, Daddy.”

He looked me over, taking in my rumpled
cheap clothing and disheveled hair. His gaze lingered for a moment
on my face and I touched my swollen jaw
self-consciously.

Max nodded at me. “You gave him hell
for that, I hope.”

I coughed thickly. “His name’s Dylan.
He’s an asshole.”

“
So I see.”

I toyed with my keys during the ensuing
awkward pause. This wasn’t proving to be the most heartwarming
father/daughter reunion in the world. “I guess you’re wondering
what the hell I’m doing here.”

He shook his head. “No.”

“
No?” I was getting
irritated. Couldn’t the man even pretend to have a little bit of
interest?

Max crossed his arms and appraised me
thoughtfully. “I figured you’d find your way back here someday.” He
sighed. “Rachel and I…we handled things badly. Sending you off
without explaining anything. And then once you were gone, it just
seemed too late.”

“
No shit.”

A quick smile skated across his face
and then disappeared. “Well, you’re here now.” He fished around in
his back pocket and tossed me a set of keys. “You remember where
the house is, I’m sure. I’ll be home around eight.” And with that
he turned away and opened the flimsy door to the shop.

“
Great,” I muttered. He
didn’t seem disappointed to see me, not exactly. Although he
definitely wasn’t dancing with joy.

“
And Artemis?”

I looked up. His brow was furrowed
anxiously. “Go straight to the house. Don’t linger in town. Don’t
interact with anyone.” He leaned closer and his voice became
urgent. “Anyone.”

That wasn’t a problem. There was really
no one in Luna Junction I was dying to see. But taking orders from
an absentee parent didn’t sit well with me. After all, I was
nineteen, technically an adult. “Why the hell not?”

“
You just do as I say,
girl.”

I crossed my arms. “I might have some
friends I want to look up as long as I’m in town.”

Max issued a hoarse laugh. “You have no
friends here.”

We’re not friends. We never
were.

My father didn’t await my reply. He
returned to his dilapidated store just as a pale, doughy woman
spilled out, loudly complaining to her lanky husband about the rude
absence of service in this part of the country.

My pulse began to race as I reached
what passed for downtown Luna Junction. A four way stop with a gas
station on one corner and the Luna Junction Café on another and not
much else in sight. I looked at my watch. It was nearly ten o’clock
and I hadn’t eaten in about eighteen hours. There was no telling
what Max did or didn’t have back at the house. My stomach groaned
beseechingly at the thought of food. I recalled the owner of the
Café; stringy old man Dieter Hoffman. Of all the potential
encounters Luna Junction had to offer, the vapid Hoffmans seemed
the least threatening so I didn’t feel bad about ignoring Max’s
orders.

I changed my mind a few moments later
when I opened the creaky door to the Café, my eyes struggling to
adjust to the dim interior. I heard the sound of a glass falling to
the floor and a low rumble which sounded suspiciously like a growl.
After the tumult of the last day, my senses must have been
operating on overdrive because a trill of warning jolted through my
spine. I crouched in the doorway as if I were expecting an imminent
assault and desperately my eyes darted around for a weapon, my
hands itching for the solid comfort of a bow. A bow strung with a
gleaming arrow which was ready to release and meet the threat that
somehow I knew was coming for me.

The abrupt grip on my elbow was painful
and I scarcely had time to yelp before I was hurtled bodily out of
the doorway and toward the dirt parking lot. I did not understand
what was happening, only that I was being attacked and I had
nothing with which to defend myself.

My feet left the ground briefly as I
was hauled roughly upright. Dimly I realized I was in the clutched
of a very strong man. Instinctively I kicked out my right foot,
hard, but he anticipated my move and blocked the blow between his
own powerful legs.

“
Are you fucking crazy?” he
bellowed in my ear.

Then something sort of broke inside me.
After all, I’d only just hours earlier escaped being slapped around
by one piece of shit. I wasn’t about to meekly endure more trauma
at the hands of a stranger. He had my arms pinned and my leg was
still clasped between his. So I lowered my head and aimed for his
solar plexus. The effect barely moved him back an inch so I
prepared to ram him again when I realized he was shouting my name.
“Acie! Acie! For fuck’s sake!”

The world stopped spinning for an
instant. Maturity had deepened his voice but I recognized it
instantly. Slowly I raised my eyes and saw a gruff man’s face, and
beneath that the shadow of the boy I had known. “Gideon,” I
whispered.

He released me suddenly and stepped
back, running a hand through his sandy hair. The door to the café
opened and two pale faces peered out. I recognized old man Hoffman
and one of his daughters. They both looked to Gideon and he nodded.
“I’ll deal with her.”

Hoffman frowned. “Your brother ain’t
going to be happy.”

Gideon spat. “When is Michael ever
happy?”

Hoffman disappeared and Gideon glared
at me. “You gonna be good now?”

There wasn’t any plan to rush toward
him pell-mell with my limbs striking out in all directions but
there I was, and howling like a banshee besides. Gideon stumbled in
surprise for a moment but subdued me easily, turning me bodily
around, his arms in a vice grip across my chest. I panted and
struggled for a moment, then went limp.

“
Don’t do that again,” he
breathed fiercely in my ear.

My teeth were clenched as I tried to
slip free from his grasp. “Let me go, you lousy son of a
bitch.”

Gradually his grip relaxed until I
could free myself. I spun around, disconcerted by the feel of his
warm chest on my back. I crossed my arms defiantly and glared at
him as he calmly removed a pack of cigarettes and from his pocket
and lit one.

“
That your car?”

“
So what?”

He took a long drag on his cigarette.
“So it won’t take long for word to get out that you’re back.
Michael’s the sheriff now.” He exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You need
to leave.”

I recalled Gideon’s brother, Michael.
He was eight years older and cold as they come. For whatever reason
he had taken an instant dislike to me as a child and I didn’t
relish a confrontation with him. But I still didn’t understand what
I had done wrong. “Is it against the law to enter a restaurant in
mighty Michael’s Luna Junction?”

Gideon’s glare was toxic. “It is for
you, Jaeger.”

And with that my defiant resolve
deflated. I had to admit I’d occasionally entertained ideas about
what would happen if ever I ran into Gideon Casteel again. Such
fantasies usually involved a lot of knee crawling and groveling on
his part. That sure as hell wasn’t happening. So I forced myself to
stand tall and told Gideon what I’d longed to say to him for six
years. “I hate you.”

He took another drag on his cigarette
and then dropped it on the gravel, grinding it out with his boot.
“I know.”

Gideon crossed to the threshold of the
cafe and waited, staring at me. The meaning was clear. I was not
welcome to enter.

I struggled to take a deep breath. I
would be damned if Gideon Casteel would see me cry. I turned on my
heel and walked stiffly to my car, not turning back, and not
glancing once in the rearview mirror as I drove away.

Chapter Two

Max was correct. I had not forgotten
where the house was. Home was a modest two bedroom bungalow where I
had lived happily for the first thirteen years of my life. It sat
at the end of a lonely road with only one other home nearby. It was
occupied by my father’s longtime friend, Eddie
D’arcangelo.

The place looked as if no one had spent
much sweat on upkeep. Still, I was grateful for the familiar feel
of the key in the lock and the homey interior which was still
decorated with my mother’s small touches. I stood in the empty
front room for a moment and listened to the gentle ticking of the
cuckoo clock. The place was as quiet as ever this far off the road.
I assumed that, besides Eddie, our nearest neighbors remained a
half mile away. And after that odd clash in front of the café, it
seemed unlikely the Casteels would come calling anytime
soon.

My stomach reminded me how it had been
unfairly neglected so I headed for the small kitchen. A moment
later I was sighing into the nearly empty refrigerator. The lone
apple looked as if it had been hanging out there since the last
presidential election and a quarter inch of milk was all that
remained in the open jug.

The bread bag on the counter still held
a few stale pieces so I sat down on the dirty tile and hungrily
shoved it my mouth, washing it down with some tasty chlorinated tap
water. I hoped Max planned on doing some shopping himself because I
wasn’t too jazzed about risking any further meetings with the
illustrious residents of Luna Junction. It was a good thing I was
already sitting because my knees weakened at the memory of Gideon’s
rough hold on my body. I scowled, angry with myself for even the
most fleeting rush of feeling. I’d meant it when I said I hated
him. He seemed unsurprised anyway, even matter of fact.

I flashed back to the proud, cocksure
look on his face in his online roster photo. That guy seemed to
have little in common with the grim, disheveled brute who’d
manhandled me in the center of the town. I sniffed. If I cared even
an ounce I might wonder what had gone wrong for him in the last
year. Well, I wasn’t exactly living up to anyone’s expectations
either. Least of all my own.

The side of my face had begun to throb
and I was pleased to discover an ancient bag of peas of the
freezer, which I pressed against my swollen jaw. I stood in front
of the small window above the sink and gazed into the bare yard
which had once been my own personal wonderland. Though it was June
and the height of the growing season, the clearing which had once
been lined with my mother’s lush vegetable gardens was nothing but
dirt and weeds, as if there had never been anything
else.

The squat grey shed caught my eye. How
many cold mornings had I trudged out there to retrieve the archery
equipment for tiresome drills under my father’s watchful eye? He
was an expert marksman himself, but seemed to take no pleasure in
teaching me. I must have asked a thousand times why. A bow and
arrow weren’t exactly modern weapons of choice. So why was I
practicing to be Robin Hood in an age of Rambo?

The answer was always the same. “In
case you’re needed.” No other information was ever offered. I knew
only that the hour of practice was in that scant time between the
first wisps of sunrise and the disappearance of the moon. And I was
never to discuss it with anyone.

Fresh in my mind was how I had yearned
to hold a bow as my body sensed imminent danger just before Gideon
hauled me out of the café. I removed the bag of peas from my face
and tossed it in the sink. I’d had enough of being bullied. It may
be a meager weapon but it was the only one I knew how to use. Once
I’d been good. I wondered if I still was.

Max still kept everything in the same
place. I shouldered a sleek bow and gathered a handful of arrows.
In my other hand I carried one of the homemade targets, pleased
that it was already covered with paper. I placed it at the far end
of the yard and counted thirty paces. The bow was stiff. I relaxed
my fingers and exhaled. The arrow sailed right over the target. I
frowned, lowering the bow. Instead of a bullseye, the target center
was shaped like a heart in the middle of a snarling animal shape. I
did not take my eyes from the stenciled red heart as I loaded
another bow. As I aimed with care, something clicked in my head and
my fingers released, sending the arrow straight into the heart of
the target.