“And, well, it just didn’t go as it normally does.”

“And how does it normally go?”

“Get a bunch of desperate men to fall in love with you. Tell them you’d love to meet them, fuck them, marry them, but you’re stuck in Russia and don’t have the funds to leave the country to do so. Get them to give you the funds. Close down your OK Cupid account. Simple as that.”

I could see him shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. “Jesus, Ellie. That’s low.”

“Oh, spare me your sudden display of ethics,” I said with a wave of my hand. “That’s how it works. I don’t go after men who can’t afford it, I’m not that cruel. Most of them are cheating on their wives too, so how about them apples? Besides, it’s not a quick scam. It takes months to build up a fake relationship. But that’s why I usually have six on the go at once. Makes it worth my while.”

He gulped down the rest of his drink in a fit of thirst. “All right, well what happened in Cincinnati?”

It suddenly felt very stuffy in his kitchen. I was tempted to open the window above the sink but I could tell the breeze had picked up and was blowing around dust from the groves.

I started sliding the razor blade charm back and forth along my necklace. “I just picked the wrong guy. And I got sloppy. I thought he was an American, but he wasn’t. He gave me a fake name and that should have set me off. Who says they’re Steven when they’re really Sergei? He also had a lot of money to throw around. Too much. That should have also set me off. He kept sending me gifts to my PO Box in St. Petersburg, really flashy items that I had to pretend I’d gotten, like pearls and diamonds. Really makes me want to take a trip to Russia and empty it out. Anyway, I got the money from him in the end, way more than I normally get and then I disappeared.”

I took a sip of the iced tea and said, “Everything was back to normal for about a week. The money had been wired to my offshore account as usual. Then I got an email from an ex-boyfriend of mine. Said he was in town and would I meet him for a drink. So, I did. Turns out it wasn’t my ex, but Sergei and that big bald bull was pissed. I barely got out of the bar.”

“So what do you think happened?” Uncle Jim looked pained and I couldn’t blame him. I was only twenty-six, far too young to be playing with Ukrainian mobsters.

I shrugged. “The only thing I could think of was him contacting the post office in St. Petersburg about the PO box. I couldn’t remember what name I signed up for the account with. He might have traced me to Cincinnati somehow. I lived with my ex for a couple of months, and I’m guessing he went there under false pretenses, got the email of my ex, and impersonated him. I totally underestimated Sergei. I think he was involved in a bunch of bad things.”

My uncle’s eyes turned hard and flinty. “This ex of yours…is this…”

“No,” I said quickly. “No, this was some guy I met at the rock climbing gym. Jack. It was short and sweet. And what are you getting at?”

He raised his fingers and looked to the side. “Oh, I just heard some things, that’s all.”

“What kind of things? And from who?” Panic was starting to press on my chest. He couldn’t be talking about who I thought he was. I mean, he could not. It was impossible. Oh shit.

“Whose car is that outside?” he asked.

Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

“How do you know about all of this?” I asked, shooting to my feet and sending the bar stool clattering behind me.

“Easy there, Hellie.” He was back to calling me my nickname from high school. It would have been charming had my blood pressure not been through the roof at that moment. Ativan. I had Ativan in the trunk.

“I talked to your parents a few times, you know. More than you have, ” he continued.

I blinked stupidly. “Okay, aside from the fact that I can’t believe you’re talking to them again, I don’t know what my parents could possibly know about—”

“You falling in love with a drug lord?” he supplied. “Oh, they know enough. It’s a small world out there. If you double-cross enough people, you’re bound to double-cross them again.”

His words coated me like fine dust. My parents were alive and kicking. They were talking to my uncle. And somehow they knew all about Javier.

“What did they tell you?” I asked quietly, hiding my hands behind me so he couldn’t see them shaking.

“Well, they are back in Gulfport. No, maybe it’s Biloxi. Somewhere on the coast. And apparently they aren’t the only ones visiting their past.”

I couldn’t believe it. Why on earth would my parents return to Gulfport? We fled from that place like it was a life and death situation and I’d grown up believing it was.

“Didn’t you return to Gulfport after you left here?” he asked me, as if he could read my thoughts. “Maybe they went back for the same reason.”

Yes, but I went back for revenge. For what had happened to me all those years ago. For what had scarred me for life.

“So what did they tell you?” I asked. I ground out the words like hard kernels.

He scratched beneath his ear and looked down into his glass, examining the floating crystals. The sun was streaming through it, causing a tea-colored stain to dance on the walls. “They mentioned how you had been living in Gulfport after you left Palm Valley. They hinted that you’d switched sides for a few years, shacked up with one of Travis’s men. Javier…something Spanish. Then, for whatever reason, you left. Took his money and his car.”

I swallowed hard. I wanted nothing more than to run out of the house and back into that said car and drive far, far away. That was always plan A and it had worked out great so far.

“Okay,” I said, trying to find an angle in our conversation. “But how did they find that out?”

“Look, I don’t know. This was a few years ago anyway. It hasn’t come up since.”

“So you still talk to them?” I asked, brows raised to the ceiling.

He nodded. “Maybe twice a year. We ain’t close, if you catch my drift. Which is why you can’t stay here.”

“You still won’t let me stay here?”

“I especially won’t let you stay here. Scamming men on the internet? Didn’t your parents teach you anything?”

“Yeah! To con people.”

“No, Ellie,” he said and then licked his lips. He looked so much older than he should have. I wished I could just wipe the wrinkles from his face. “Didn’t what they did to you teach you anything? Eventually you’re going to get hurt.”

I raised my chin, my walls rising up around me like metal siding. “I’ve already been hurt, as you love to point out. And I told you, I’m done. I’m trying to go legit and you won’t even give me a chance. You haven’t seen me since I was a teenager. You don’t know me. You don’t know when I’m being honest.”

“Exactly.”

“But I am being honest. I need a job, Uncle Jim. I need a place to stay.”

He let out a deep sigh and threw the rest of his drink in the sink. “You can stay here for a couple of days, that’s it. If you want to hang about in Palm Valley, that’s fine. But you don’t hang out here. You need to find your own place. Your own money. I can’t give you any money and I can’t even give you a job. I owe those men out there money already and there’s not enough harvest to break even this year. Sad but true.”

“I can help out around the house, clean it up a bit,” I offered.

“And I expect you to,” he said sternly. “But only for a few days. I suggest you hightail it to town and start looking for employment now.”

“Why are you so afraid of me?” I asked him softly.

I thought he’d look perplexed at the question but he only looked chagrined. “I’ve always been afraid of you, little Hellie. You’ve got something dark inside you, you always have. I don’t want to be around when it comes out. And more than that, I’m trying to make good in this community. I’m trying to make good and get help when I need it most. Do you think people will be so generous to me when they find out I’ve got my sister’s daughter staying here? Do you think a town ever really forgets its criminals? It doesn’t. Palm Valley may look prettier, but it’ still a stubborn old lady who won’t think twice about running you out of town. And me too.”

“Now,” he said, making his way to the sliding door that led into the date palm grove, “I’ve got to make sure my livelihood is alive. I’ll see you later.”

I watched him go, vowing to myself that I’d never be in financial stress at his age, no matter what the cost. Then I turned and left the house. I had some jobs to apply for.

CHAPTER TWO

I drove back to town in pure frustration, my ever-present anger swarming up my throat. I gobbled more Kava pills with one hand and switched off my music with the other. My mood didn’t suit my favorite playlist anymore. This wasn’t about desert life and hope and optimism. This was about shit I had no control over. My fucking parents. What the hell did they know about me and Javier, anyway? That was a very long time ago and it wasn’t as simple as a man and woman breaking up, she taking his car and money. This wasn’t a Carrie Underwood song. This shit went fucking Anthrax for a while. It still kind of was.

Not many people had an ex that would probably shoot them in the head if they ever found them. And I meant that in the most literal sense.

As I was wondering if Javier would still bother looking for me after all these years, I pulled the car (okay, his car) up along one of the many trendy looking cafes that peppered the street. I couldn’t use any of my past references but I knew my way around an espresso machine. I had a new plan, since my uncle speared my original one through the heart. I’d stick around here for a while, make enough money, and then head out on the road. No, I didn’t know where I was going to stay after he kicked me off the date plantation, but I knew I’d figure something out. I always did.

I turned off the engine and let the heat build up inside for a few moments. It was just past one and my stomach was eating itself. I took in a few deep breaths through my nose and wondered if it were possible to overdose on Kava. Technically, the root was a mild narcotic but you could make anything beneficial in small doses. I missed the days when it only took a pill to curb my anger and anxiety. Now it took too much.

I grabbed my purse, a nice leather thing with tassels, and sashayed my way into the coffee shop, the door opening with the tinkle of a bell. I wasn’t wearing a sundress like most of the women in the shop, but my jeans were clean, my boots were shiny, and my bright yellow tank top showed off my fading summer tan. I had brushed my hair in the car, smoothing it down to acceptable levels, and did a quick swipe of makeup over my lids. I wasn’t anything flashy, I was just pleasant enough to sail under the radar.

Shivering a bit at the air conditioning, I did a quick survey of the room. There was an older couple in the corner, relaxing in armchairs, the silver-haired woman with cat-eyed glasses doing a crossword or Sudoku, her husband reading a book. Everyone else was pretty young. There were three teenage girls giggling in the corner over blended coffees, wearing tube tops and shorts that made me envious. A smattering of college-aged kids were spread about, typing on their laptops, earphones in their ears, while two businessmen were making awkward small talk over even smaller cups of espresso. Pretty standard stuff. Even John Mayer was playing over the speakers, but the new Mayer, after his years of exile on a ranch.