Watcher (The Shining Ones Book 1) Read online

  Published by The Small Book Press

  Copyright © Shawnee Small, 2016

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  Cover Design by Anthony Arbona

  Ebook formatting by Guido Henkel

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to The Small Book Press, PO Box 42, Ivy, VA 22945

  For B. Joey -

  Thank You for Everything.

  1

  October. A standard Thursday night at Paddy’s. Nothing remarkable, nothing out of the ordinary for a small drinking establishment located on an even smaller island. Tybee was like that. The same drinks, the same faces. Day in, day out.

  I was the first one to notice him standing in the doorway of the bar. He was tall and too thin, with hair that was untidy, but stylishly so. The long, dark overcoat he wore hung on him badly, almost engulfing him. A black-and-gray scarf twined around his neck. He paused only long enough to glance around the bar before walking the rest of the way in, sliding his long frame into one of my booths.

  I picked up a menu off the bar and made my way over.

  “Welcome to Paddy’s. Can I get you something to drink?” I passed him the menu before pulling my pad and pen out of my apron pocket.

  “A cup of coffee. With sugar. Thanks.”

  “Sure thing. I’ll be right back.”

  I’d turned to go when he did something unexpected‌—‌he grabbed my wrist. For a second, I couldn’t breathe as my hand started to tingle, the feeling slowly inching its way up to my elbow‌…‌even through my sweater.

  “What is your name?” He had a slight accent that made me think he was English.

  “Poesy.”

  A moment of awkward silence filled the air between us as I waited for him to release my wrist. The tingle was like a subtle itch under my skin that I wanted to scratch. It wasn’t entirely pleasant, but it wasn’t painful, either.

  Finally, he let go. “Adam Walker. I just bought a house over on Chatham Avenue.”

  But I was barely listening.

  How on earth did he do that?

  The tingling had disappeared, yet I had to stop myself from touching the place on my wrist where his fingers had been just seconds before.

  “The Harrington place.” It’d been the only house for sale on that street in over a year.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  If I expected Adam Walker to say more, he didn’t. He sat silently still, looking at me while I looked back at him. It was unnerving as hell.

  “Uh, I’ll go get your coffee.” I fled back toward the kitchen, but as I reached the corner of the bar, a spiky head popped up from behind it.

  “Boo!”

  My hand flew to my chest before I realized it was just Birdie.

  “Jesus! You almost gave me a heart attack!” I shot him a dirty look, but Birdie promptly broke out in uncontrollable laughter.

  “It’s not funny!”

  “Geez, who peed in your Wheaties?”

  Birdie was my best friend in the whole world, but he could be such a child sometimes.

  “Forget it. That guy over there just‌…‌it’s nothing. Never mind.” I pushed my bangs out of my face and took a deep breath. There was no easy way to explain the tingling or the intensity that radiated off Adam Walker as he’d looked at me. Or the fact that I wanted to know more about him.

  Birdie glanced briefly over at him before turning back to me, frowning. “Did he say something perverted to you? ’Cause if he did, I’ll beat his ass.” Birdie took a step out from behind the bar, but I restrained him with my arm.

  “Stop it,” I hissed.

  “What?”

  “Don’t. He didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Fine.” Birdie huffed as he reclaimed his spot at the bar. “So what did he say then?”

  I told him about the Harrington place.

  Birdie’s blue eyes went wide. “Unbelievable. That place is practically falling down and they still asked over a million for it. What’s a guy like that doing here, anyhow?” Propping himself up on the bar with his elbows, Birdie leaned in toward me. “I wonder what his deal is? Spy from the air force base? Drug dealer? Internet tycoon?”

  “Not sure, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious.”

  I should’ve known better than to say that in front of Birdie. He pulled his slim torso up off the bar, straightening to his full height before locking eyes with me. “I’m telling you, that guy looks like a serial killer, Poe. You need to stay the hell away from him.”

  Crossing my arms, I glared right back at him. “Birdie Finch, you have no business telling me what I should or shouldn’t do. And as it happens, I’m not doing anything. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” I spun on my heel and marched through the swinging kitchen door.

  Right into the crosshairs of Haylee Jane.

  “What in tarnation is up your butt?” asked Haylee. She stood in the kitchen, waiting for Cookie to finish her order.

  “Nothing,” I muttered. “Birdie’s getting on my last nerve.”

  “What else is new? You two fight all the time. How you still remain friends is beyond me, girl. You know that boy has a thing for you, but you torment him all the same.” Haylee Jane was my oldest girlfriend and a co-worker to boot, and I knew all too well diplomacy wasn’t her forte.

  “Haylee, not now,” I replied, grimacing. The last thing I needed was a lecture on Birdie.

  “Fine, please yourself. Hey, Cookie, anytime with those fries, girl!” Haylee glowered in Cookie’s direction.

  “Listen‌…‌there’s a strange guy in my section.” I walked over to the coffeemaker. The pot was empty except for the last eighth of an inch of coffee, which was stuck to the bottom of the pot like scorched tar. Sighing, I reached for a clean coffeepot before setting the dirty one in the sink, then flipped the switch on.

  “And?”

  “And he’s‌—‌I don’t know‌—‌intriguing, I guess. He’s thinner than you like them, but I dunno, there’s something about him.” I didn’t tell her about the tingling.

  A flustered Cookie rang the service bell. “Order up!”

  “Woman, I’m right here. You don’t need to ring that damn bell. I can hear, you know,” warned Haylee through gritted teeth. Nothing was worse than two bossy black women in Paddy’s kitchen.

  “I know you ain’t deaf, but I like ’em to get their food hot and all. If ya’ll are done gossipin’, ya’ll can get a move on.” Cookie wasn’t backing down.

  That was all the cue I needed‌—‌you didn’t want to piss off Cookie. I poured the steaming coffee into a mug and grabbed a fistful of sugar packets, ramming them into my apron pocket. “Just take a quick look before you go back to your section. Please?”

  “Okay,” Haylee sighed. “It’s all quiet upstairs anyhow. He better be mighty fine.” She picked up her order and walked out into the bar.

  I waited a full minute before I followed her out. Of course, Haylee had already returned to her section, but it didn’t matter. I’d catch up with her later. Instead, my attention was focused on who was on the other side of that kitchen door. Part of me expected Adam Walker to be gone, like I’d made him up, but as I re
-entered the bar, there he sat, staring at me.

  He was oddly bewitching. That was bad news.

  “Here’s your coffee. Do you want to order some food now?”

  “No thanks.”

  Yet another moment of awkward silence stretched out between us as I tried to come up with a way to keep him talking, but my mind drew a blank. “Um, well, give me a shout if you need anything else.” I’d turned to go when he finally spoke up.

  “Would it be possible for you to sit with me for a minute? I could use a local’s perspective on this place.” He studied my face, waiting for my reply.

  I slid into the seat across from him and placed my arms on the table. “What do you want to know?”

  “Tell me a bit about yourself.” He tilted his head slightly, folding his hands around the steaming mug of coffee. His eyes, the color of liquid molasses, were staring intently.

  “I’m not that interesting.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked smoothly. His eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch, yet he didn’t elaborate, causing the heat to creep farther up my neck and into my face. I had to give it to him, he was good. Maybe Birdie was right‌—‌this could be trouble.

  “What is it you’re really after?” I asked bluntly. “I’m sure you have things to do other than sit here and talk to me.”

  “Possibly,” he said enigmatically, “but I am curious.”

  “About what?”

  “About you.”

  “There’s nothing to tell,” I replied.

  “What about your family, then?” He wasn’t giving up.

  “My mother’s dead and Joe’s never around.”

  Finally, he looked uncomfortable. “Oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  Our conversation had gone to an awkward place very quickly. Glancing toward the bar in hopes of a diversion, I got it as a foursome walked through the front door, although when I recognized the group, I knew it was more likely to be a disaster than a diversion.

  “Well, it was nice talking to you, Adam. Welcome to Tybee.” Not bothering to hold out my hand, I extricated myself from the booth as quickly as humanly possible. He might’ve been rendered speechless by my rudeness, but there wasn’t time to worry about him. My next problem was strutting into my section.

  Oh yes, the beautiful people.

  It was like watching a Paris runway during Fashion Week as Brandon and Brooke entered Paddy’s, followed closely by Shell and the she-devil, Brianna. We were in the middle of a redneck bar, no disrespect to Paddy’s, and Shell was the casual one in his expensive shirt opened at the neck and jeans that probably cost more than my weekly paycheck. The girls, well, they looked perfect, as usual. Just like in high school, except now they were almost a decade older and meaner and they were heading straight for the booth behind Adam.

  Great. I made my way over.

  “Hi ya’ll. What can I get you to drink?” I plastered a big, fake smile on my face. As Shell started to place his order, Brianna cut him off.

  “Poesy, I can’t believe you’re still here. How long has it been? Like four, maybe five years? You know, if Stevie doesn’t promote you, I think McDonald’s is hiring.” She smirked at me.

  “Knock it off, Bree. What do you want to drink? I’ll get it,” said Shell, shrugging slightly.

  “Fine. Get me a G and T.” She rolled her eyes.

  Brandon ordered for him and Brooke, but didn’t bother with being polite. If I’d had the plague, he couldn’t have been more standoffish. With their order in hand, I headed to the bar to retrieve their drinks, feeling like perhaps I’d just dodged a bullet.

  Yeah, right.

  With my tray full of drinks, I started to make my way back to their table right as Adam flagged me down. Dropping off their drinks first would’ve made more sense, but I changed my course, making my way toward Adam’s booth. Bad move. As I lowered the tray toward his table, something rammed into my side, causing me to jostle the already heavy tray. My reflexes were too slow and the tray crashed to the tabletop, shattering glass and spilling drinks everywhere–most of it on me and Adam. A giant raspberry-colored stain appeared in the middle of my white T-shirt and up the sleeve of my favorite cardigan. Brooke’s vodka cranberry.

  I looked up in time to see Brianna mouth the word “sorry” before sashaying toward the ladies’ room. Adam dabbed at the beer on his jacket with a paper napkin.

  “Oh god, I’m so sorry! Here.” I shoved the dry rag from my apron at him so he could remove the worst of the spill. “I’m really, really sorry. I’m such a klutz.” Embarrassed, I scrambled around to pick up pieces of shattered glass.

  He reached for my hand. The motion stopped me in my tracks, and I looked at him.

  “It is just clothes.” He touched the top of my hand for reassurance, and the energy started to travel up my arm again like a thin, live wire. He stopped abruptly when he saw the confusion on my face.

  Brianna’s return from the restroom was almost perfectly timed.

  “Wow, someone’s pretty clumsy.” She sneered at me, her hand resting comfortably on her hip.

  “It was an accident. I bumped the tray when I passed her my cup. No harm done,” Adam replied. His words caught me off guard, but not Brianna. She didn’t let the lie ruffle her one bit.

  “It’s too bad about your jacket. I like it. Very retro. I’m Brianna Macon. Your name is…”

  “Adam Walker.”

  “Nice to meet you, Adam. Here long?”

  “I just bought a house here.”

  “Really? We should get a drink sometime.” She was practically crooning as she ran her hand through her hair, exposing her slim neck, which I wanted to snap right about then.

  “Thanks for the offer. Maybe I will take you up on it.” He pointed his beautiful smile her way, and she just stared at him for a moment. I knew how she felt, looking into that face.

  “See you around, then.” She smiled at him with her large teal eyes before heading back to the table.

  “Are you going to be okay?” asked Adam.

  “I’m fine. I loved this sweater.” I groaned and pointed to the stains on my ruined cardigan.

  “I will buy you a new one if you like.” He gave me another smile, and I found myself lost for words. Was he serious? I shook my head.

  “Uh, yeah, thanks for covering for me. You didn’t need to, you know.”

  “No worries,” he replied, rising from his seat. “Here. This should cover the bill. I have got to go. Take care of yourself, Poesy Wharton. I will see you around.”

  He thrust a crumpled bill into my hand, causing my fingers to tingle like mad, and then he was gone. Opening my palm, I felt my mouth go dry. He’d left me fifty bucks.

  But that wasn’t what unsettled me.

  How did he know my last name?

  ***

  I turned over as warm sunlight filtered through the tiny windows of my bedroom. As tempted as I was to snuggle back under the covers, especially since I wasn’t due in to work until the afternoon, it was wishful thinking. A large black dog head sat propped up on my pillow, two big tawny eyes blinking at me. Daisy blew hot, humid air into my face through her flaring nostrils‌—‌it was enough to wake the dead. I groaned loudly and pushed the covers away. There’d be no rest for the wicked as long as there was an un-fed dog in my midst, so I did what every other dog owner on the planet does‌—‌I got up and hobbled into the kitchen, searching out the dog food.

  With Daisy fed and my first cup of coffee steaming in front of me, I switched on the TV and sat down on the sofa. My cell phone rang just as I was about to enjoy a rerun of some eighties sitcom.

  Damn. It was Stevie.

  “Hello?”

  “I need you to come in early today,” he barked from the other end of the line.

  “And good morning to you, too.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Listen, I’ve got a truck coming in today, and I’ve gotta do inventory. Are you okay to come in at e
leven?”

  “Sure,” I answered reluctantly.

  So much for a nice, leisurely morning. I’d have time for a shower and a few menial chores that needed to get done, but there’d be no painting for me today.

  Two hours later, I walked through the front door of Paddy’s. Right on time.

  “Where the hell have you been?” yelled Stevie, his portly frame blustering through the swinging kitchen doors.

  “You said eleven o’clock, remember?” I shouted back as he ducked into kitchen. I strode after him.

  “Well, the truck’s been here since ten and I’m on my own with–”

  I cut him off. “Stevie, we don’t open for another thirty minutes, I’m sure everything’s–” But he cut me off in turn.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Who’s going to fill the ketchups and sort the napkins‌—‌you know, all that waitress crap?” He was flinging his arms around. It didn’t matter that all that stuff had been taken care of the previous night, as usual. “Well, I’m glad there’s someone else here, anyhow.” He puffed and marched back to where the deliveryman stood twitching his feet, holding onto his paperwork. I shook my head, shoving my bag into my cubbyhole and tying my apron around my waist.

  The rest of my day passed by in a blur as the regular lunch folk showed up. The boys from the Tybee police department always ate in the same booth at the same time. Sweet tea, two shrimp po’ boys, two burgers. Same thing every day. Birdie came in to pick up his paycheck and drop off some band flyers for his show the next night. The Robotic Overlords would be playing at the seedy bar down off Congress Street again to the regular crowd. Of course, I was going with Haylee. All in all, things were going well until Birdie pulled me over to the bar.

  “It’s none of my business,” began Birdie. He didn’t look me in the eye. “And I know I shouldn’t get between you and Joe, but I think you need to go see him.” He glanced down at his hands as he fiddled with his remaining flyers.

  My stomach sank. It must be bad if Birdie was risking talking about my dad.

  “Why’s that?” I was trying to keep the tension out of my voice.