Whiskey Flight Read online

  Whiskey Flight

  Cedar Creek Suspense, Volume 1

  Violet Howe

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, events, and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

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  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

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  www.violethowe.com

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  Cover Design: Elizabeth Mackey

  www.elizabethmackeygraphics.com

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  Published by Charbar Productions, LLC

  (p-v1)

  Copyright © 2020 Violet Howe/LM Howe/Charbar Productions, LLC

  All rights reserved.

  Print ISBN: 978-1-7327269-1-8

  Contents

  Books by Violet Howe

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  Want more in Cedar Creek?

  Also by Violet Howe

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Thank You

  For the Ultra Violets

  Thank you for living in Cedar Creek with me and loving these characters as much as I do.

  Books by Violet Howe

  Tales Behind the Veils

  Diary of a Single Wedding Planner

  Diary of a Wedding Planner in Love

  Diary of an Engaged Wedding Planner

  Maggie

  The Cedar Creek Collection

  Cedar Creek Mysteries:

  The Ghost in the Curve

  The Glow in the Woods

  The Phantom in the Footlights

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  Cedar Creek Families:

  Building Fences

  Crossing Paths

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  Cedar Creek Suspense:

  Whiskey Flight

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  Soul Sisters at Cedar Mountain Lodge

  Christmas Sisters

  Christmas Hope

  Visit www.violethowe.com to subscribe to Violet’s monthly newsletter for news on upcoming releases, events, sales, and other tidbits.

  * * *

  Or join her Facebook reader group, the UltraViolets, for fun interaction, advance news, exclusive content and giveaways.

  One

  Hit men don’t wear name badges, so I didn’t know for sure if the stranger in the corner booth had been sent to kill me or if he was just a lonely out-of-towner who’d happened to pick my local bar.

  He sat alone, his beer untouched and his attention focused on his phone. His ankle-length chinos stood out in the sea of denim and khakis, and the loafers he wore without socks were a stark contrast to the cowboy boots, work boots, and sneakers on everyone else.

  “Hey, Shannon,” I said to the bartender as she poured a beer from the tap in front of me. “That guy over there, the one in the corner? Have you ever seen him in here before?”

  She glanced up at him and then shook her head.

  “Nah. Trust me, I would have remembered him,” she said with a grin and a wink. “Definitely not from around here. A city guy, I bet. Probably looking for real estate to scoop up.”

  I sneaked another peek at him as she walked away to deliver the beer to the other end of the bar.

  He looked harmless enough, but I had learned the hard way that I was a bad judge of character.

  I didn’t even realize my own husband was a hitman with the mob until he’d been arrested.

  Even then, I hadn’t wanted to believe it was true.

  How could the intelligent, sensitive, romantic, and passionate man I’d fallen head over heels in love with be a cold-blooded murderer?

  This was a man who would discuss Shakespeare with me until the wee hours of the morning, and then get up early to plant Gerbera daisies in our back garden so my life would have more color. The man who would have a hot bath waiting for me after a long night at the news station where I worked, and who would sit cross-legged on the floor with his niece and her stuffed animals when she invited him to a tea party.

  Granted, I’d rushed in. It was the first time in my life I’d ever been swept off my feet, and two weeks to the day after our first date, we got married in a courthouse ceremony and celebrated by dancing barefoot on the candlelit back deck of my house. Two months later, he was behind bars, and I was left alone, numb with shock, grief, and regret.

  I rattled the ice cubes in my whiskey and took another sip, allowing the layered flavors of the fiery liquid to open on my tongue.

  It had been two years since Victor’s arrest, and in many ways, I was still numb. And damned near destitute.

  Between my legal fees and the government freezing my assets, I’d almost been bankrupted. My career had abruptly ended, and my sense of identity had been shattered along with my heart. I’d moved back home to Cedar Creek with my tail between my legs, hoping my small, rural hometown where everyone knew everyone would be a safe place to hide and heal.

  No place was safe, though. Not even Cedar Creek. The detective who questioned me after Victor’s arrest had warned me that I’d likely be under two microscopes—the Mafia’s and the government’s. Either might have me followed, but only one would put a hit out on me.

  Was that why the stranger was in town?

  I’d first noticed him about a week earlier in the grocery store. I’d been smelling strawberries, looking for a pint a tad overripe, when he caught my eye.

  He’d worn ankle-length chinos that day as well, gray instead of black. He’d paired them with a white button-down shirt cut so narrow that it hugged his ribs and threatened to burst at the seams across his pronounced biceps.

  As if his metropolitan fashion choices weren’t enough to make him stand out in the rural setting, he stood staring at the cilantro and parsley with empty hands, no shopping cart or basket in sight.

  When I’d first moved back to Cedar Creek, I’d been jumpy and easily startled, suspicious of everyone and wary of what danger might have followed me home from Chicago.

  But after a couple of months with no incidents, I began to relax a little. I convinced myself the Mafia had no need to come after me. I’d proven I didn’t know anything, that I wasn’t any kind of threat. I told myself that they had no reason to kill me.

  The stranger brought my paranoia back though, and my instinct that first day I saw him had been to put distance between us.

  I left the strawberries behind and moved to a different aisle, glancing over my shoulder every couple of seconds to see if he was behind me. I considered abandoning my cart and heading outside, but I worried he might follow me to my car, and I felt safer indoors in the company of other people.

  Twice more I spotted him as I hastened to grab the few items I needed. He didn’t seem to notice me. He never made eye contact or came closer to me, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that his presence was connected to me.

  Though I was hesitant to leave the relative safety of the store, I had no proof that he meant me harm, so eventually, I made my way to my car. I sat and waited, and sure enough, wi
thin a couple of minutes of my exit, he walked out into the sunlight, adjusting his shades down over his eyes from their perch on the top of his head.

  Who walks through an entire grocery store, aisle by aisle, and leaves with nothing? Not even a candy bar?

  I’d kept an eye out for him in the days that followed, but I hadn’t seen him again until tonight in the bar.

  Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t noticed he had looked up and caught me staring. A grin played at the corner of his mouth as I looked away, my face hot with embarrassment.

  I preoccupied myself with the peanuts in the bowl in front of me, cracking open a couple of shells to pop the stale, salty nuts into my mouth. I chased them down with a swig of whiskey and then motioned to Shannon that I’d have another glass.

  She raised an eyebrow, and I ignored her. It wasn’t every day that a woman got a call to let her know her ex-husband was being transferred to a federal prison. Who could fault me for wanting to be a little more numb than usual? I’d walked the three blocks to the bar with the full intention of being unable to drive home. I could stumble that far back if needed.

  I tossed a peanut into the air and opened my mouth to catch it, but I missed, and it fell inside my shirt. As I reached to fish it from my cleavage, my elbow made contact with the person about to take the barstool next to me.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “That’s all right,” he said. “It was just my arm. I’m sure if you had seen it was me, I’d have a black eye.”

  Seth Donovan. Quite possibly the last person on earth I wanted to see at that moment. Well, all right, Victor Gallo was the last person I wanted to see, but since my ex-husband was in prison, my childhood sweetheart had moved from second place on the list to first.

  “Is that whiskey you’re drinking?” Seth asked as Shannon placed a full glass in front of me and took away the empty one. “I’ve never known you to be a hard liquor girl. What are we celebrating?”

  “We aren’t celebrating anything,” I said, shifting my weight on the stool to turn away from him. “I’d prefer to drink alone.”

  “Ouch,” he said. “You know, I thought at some point we’d at least be able to be cordial now that you’re back in town. I guess not, and I guess that’s my cue to find another seat. Shannon, nice to see you.”

  He walked away, and Shannon stared at me with a stunned expression.

  “What?” I growled.

  She held up both hands and shook her head.

  “I didn’t say a word. My lips are sealed.” With a zipping motion across her mouth, she turned away.

  I frowned, embarrassed at my own rudeness. Seth had been nothing but polite each of the three times I’d seen him since moving back to town, and I’d gotten nastier every time.

  It wasn’t like he’d done anything to deserve it. I was the one who broke things off all those years ago. It was me who’d ended all contact and stopped taking his calls.

  At the time, I’d felt betrayed by him. He’d backed out on our plans. He’d refused to run away with me and escape the confines of Cedar Creek.

  Now that I’d tasted real betrayal—betrayal so deep and so insidious that it left a black, rotted spot inside my heart—I knew that what Seth had done didn’t measure up to that in any way.

  The problem was, I’d been angry with Seth for so long that I didn’t know how not to be. It kind of blurred into my anger with Victor like a general rage against love and vulnerability. Since Victor wasn’t around to catch the brunt of it, Seth made an excellent stand-in target.

  “I take it you and the deputy have a history?” Shannon said as she returned to wipe the bar in front of me.

  Hmmph. That was an understatement. Seth had been my first crush in kindergarten, my glued-to-the-hip companion throughout elementary, my first kiss in junior high, and a key player in every single memory I had of high school and college. Hell, he was the only serious boyfriend I’d ever had. Not counting Victor, of course, but Victor had gone straight from stranger to spouse so quickly I didn’t count him as a boyfriend, and two months of living a lie couldn’t be taken seriously.

  “A history? Yeah. You could say that,” I finally responded over the rim of my glass. “We knew each other when I lived here before. Thirteen years ago.”

  “Dang. If you’re still that mad after thirteen years, he must have really screwed you over. Sucks to hear that. I’ve always thought Seth was one of the nice guys. I don’t know him that well, though. He doesn’t come in too often. Just the weekends he’s not on duty. All I know is he’s not one of those who hits on every girl who walks through the door, and he never gets wasted and acts an ass. Always tips well, too. Calls me by my name. Real respectful.”

  I swallowed my whiskey and winced at the burn.

  “Don’t let me change your opinion. Seth is a nice guy,” I said, coming to his defense in my guilt for somehow casting him in a negative light. “At least, he was when I knew him.”

  Shannon sighed. “In my experience, men are either good guys at their core, or they’re not. They don’t tend to change much. I’m sure if you sat down and had a drink with Seth, you’d find he was pretty much the same person you knew him to be. But what do I know?”

  A customer beckoned her from farther down the bar, and she smiled with a shrug as she walked away.

  I glanced over my shoulder to see if Metro Man was still there, looking away quickly when I saw he was staring at me. I waited a couple of minutes, what seemed like an eternity, and then I turned on the barstool and did a quick scan of the bar, careful to start on the opposite end of where he sat.

  The booths along the back wall were all filled with people laughing, talking, drinking, and eating. A typical Friday night out for friends.

  A trio of ladies stood near the billiards table watching one man line up his cue stick and take his shot, and his opponent roared with laughter when he missed.

  Three dartboards hung on the adjacent wall, and Seth had joined one of the groups tossing darts.

  He was more buff now than when I’d known him. Years spent in law enforcement had bulked up his body, making him much more muscular than the scrawny teen of my memories.

  Gone were the lustrous locks of his youth. He wore his dark brown hair cut too close to his head to form the wavy curls that I’d loved to twist around my fingers.

  His jawline was more chiseled, the angles of his face sharpened by age, but his eyes were still the same soft chocolate brown they’d always been.

  Tearing my gaze away from Seth to let it roam over the tables in the center of the room, I finally dared to look toward the stranger.

  He was ready this time, waiting for the eye contact, and he lifted his beer in a toast as he grinned and gave me a nod.

  I spun away so quickly that I damned near fell off the barstool, and then I propped my elbow on the bar and let my dark hair fall forward to shield my face from his view.

  Was he taunting me? Was he letting me know he was aware I knew his purpose?

  Or was I overreacting?

  There’d been nothing sinister in his glance. It could have been flirtation. What if he wasn’t a hitman at all? What if he was simply a guy in a bar hoping to score on a Friday night?

  Maybe I should have let Seth sit next to me. That would have at least discouraged any unwanted advances from Metro Man. On the other hand, if my initial instincts about the stranger were correct, associating with me might put Seth in danger, and that was the last thing I wanted to do.

  I pulled out my phone to check my emails for a distraction, and as I scrolled through my inbox, Shannon set another whiskey on the bar and smiled.

  “Compliments of the snazzy dresser in the corner.”

  So, it had been a come-on. Surely, a hitman wouldn’t be so blatantly obvious as to send me a drink and call attention to himself. Relief flooded through me, followed by the need to squelch any further attention from my new admirer.

  “Oh, tell him I’m not interested, please.”

  “He already
paid for it,” Shannon said. “You might as well drink it.”

  She turned her attention to another customer, and I shook my head in frustration.

  As happy as I was to discover he wasn’t out to kill me, I had no desire to strike up a conversation with him either.

  Figuring that a gentle but firm rebuff right off the bat would be the best way to handle the situation, I turned to face his direction, prepared to communicate my disinterest with my eyes and a shake of my head. To my surprise, his booth was empty. A wad of cash lay on the table next to his beer, which still appeared full.

  Why would he buy me a drink and then leave? It didn’t make sense in either theory of who or what he was.

  I hastily scanned the crowd again, unconvinced that he had gone.

  “Hey, Shannon? Did that guy say anything when he bought my drink?”

  “Nah, not really. Just that he wanted to buy another round for the lady in the red shirt.” She looked over toward his booth and frowned. “Where’d he go?”

  “Beats me,” I said with a shrug. “You’re sure you’ve never seen him in here before?”

  “Positive. Like I said, I’d remember him. You know how this place is. We’re the local hangout. We get the same people in and out, hardly ever any out-of-towners. Maybe he went to the bathroom. Or maybe he had to take a call and stepped outside. If I see him come back in, I’ll give you a heads-up.”