Loose Ends (Magnolia Series Book 1) Page 3

  “Goodnight, Luke.” Ava gave a little wave and climbed down from the truck. She didn’t look back when she began walking to the doors of the bar. That’d show him.

  ***

  What in the hell just happened? Luke sat in the idling truck in the parking lot of Bo’s. His body was still zinging with the feeling of his lips pressed against Ava’s. Son-of-a-bitch. This wasn’t good. He’d only wanted to spark her interest enough that he could keep tabs on her for the next few weeks. He’d never had the intention of doing anything beyond a fake friendship with her. Sure he flirted in the bar. But that was a way to open a line of communication with her. Now the only talking he wanted to do was with his body, on hers, for hours upon end.

  “Fuck!” He smashed his palm on top of the steering wheel. Not only did he have the complication of being extremely attracted to someone he was being paid to watch— and in the end murder— he now had a raging hard-on that probably wouldn’t go down with an ice bath. “Fuck me,” he cursed again.

  Chapter Three

  Monday morning came and Ava dragged her sorry ass into the salon just a little before eight a.m. That was the bad thing about owning your own business and being the only one working there. You had to be there constantly to be able to make money. Not that she didn’t want to work, she did. It was all she really kept from her former life. It was the only thing that kept her grounded and made her feel just a fraction safer in her chaotic life. And of course there was the money. She needed to have some sort of income. Dipping into the stash of money she’d brought with her wasn’t a good idea. Eventually it would come back and kick her in the ass. No, using more of that money wasn’t going to happen. She’d already used a huge chunk of it to pay for her home. She wasn’t going to be stupid and blow every cent. They would want their money back eventually. At least this way she would still have some left to hand over when the time came.

  “Good morning, sunshine!” Brandi breezed through the salon door as soon as Ava flipped the sign around to OPEN.

  “Don’t you have a job to get to?” Ava groaned. It was sickening how cheerful Brandi was in the mornings. That type of behavior shouldn’t be allowed until one was filled with at least 15 cups of coffee.

  “Not until noon.” She plopped down on the small sofa in the waiting area.

  “You suck.”

  “Only on days that end in Y.” She smirked.

  “Gross. I don’t need to know about your sucking skills.”

  “I have great sucking and blowing skills, I’ll have you know.” Brandi giggled.

  “Ignoring you,” Ava called as she went to the back of the shop to finish turning on the lights.

  “I’ve been thinking about your painting situation for the new house,” Brandi called.

  “And?”

  “I have the name of a company that would do it. They could come in and have it done in no time. That way you wouldn’t have to kill yourself trying to get it all done and be here, too.”

  “No, thanks. I’d honestly rather do it myself.”

  “Fine, be that way.” She stuck out her tongue and put down the out-of-date Cosmo mag she’d been flipping through. “So, what was with the hottie Friday night?”

  “Nothing.” Ava shrugged nonchalantly.

  “Oh, come on. I saw the way he was looking at you. He wants you…baaaad.”

  “He does not. Luke is just another pain in the ass redneck looking for a piece of ass.”

  “And the problem with that is?”

  “I don’t want to be someone’s booty call, Brandi.” Ava plopped down in the styling chair.

  “Didn’t sound like you wanted a relationship, either.”

  “Maybe I don’t know what I want.”

  “I think you want Luke and you’re too afraid to admit it.” She waggled her eyebrows.

  “It’s so damn complicated.”

  “Complicated is what people say when they’re being a pussy about life. Grow a pair and figure out what you want. No one’s going to do it for you.”

  “I’m not a pussy!” She grabbed a comb and launched it across the room, nearly pelting Brandi in the head with the toothed plastic.

  “Uh, yes, you are. Look at you. You’re gorgeous. I would give my left tit to look like you. And you have a great personality. Jeez, Ava, you’re the complete package.”

  Ava swiveled the chair around and glanced in the mirror. She didn’t really look at her reflection much. Even when she was standing behind the styling chair she avoided the mirror as much as possible. Her appearance had drastically changed when she left Chicago. Her normally light brown hair was changed to a golden blonde, her soft blue eyes were masked by contacts that turned them a rich amber and her face, well, she didn’t change anything about it but she had a pair of glasses she’d throw on if she felt like someone recognized her. But as far as feeling beautiful, she didn’t. She felt invisible, which was the one thing she was going for. Anonymity was key when running for your life.

  “I think you should give Luke a chance,” Brandi added while Ava was still looking herself over in the mirror.

  “I don’t know.” All she could think was how things might turn out if who she was running from found her here in Mississippi. Luke could get hurt. “I’ll think about it.” She stood and went to the back of the salon to grab a stack of clean towels for the day.

  “You’d better think fast because he’s on his way in here, now.”

  “What!” Ava shouted as the white pieces of fabric flew from her hands and landed in a heap on the floor. “Dammit!” she yelled.

  “Is Ava here?” Luke’s voice rang through the shop and caused Ava’s skin to prickle.

  “Yeah, she’s in the back getting naked for you.”

  “Brandi!” Ava reprimanded. She scooped up the pile of towels and carried them to the front of the shop.

  “Bummer, she’s still got her clothes on.” Luke smiled brightly.

  “Don’t you have someplace to be?” She pinned Brandi with a stare hoping she’d get the hint that she needed to go.

  “Yup, sure do. Catch y’all on the flip side.” She jumped from her seat and darted through the door.

  “Sorry about her. She’s an odd duck.” Tucking her hair behind her ears in a nervous gesture Ava began to work on folding the towels again. To her surprise, Luke joined in. “What are you doing?”

  He stopped halfway through folding and raised his eyebrows. “I’d say brain surgery, but you’d know I was lying.”

  “You don’t have to help me,” she said politely.

  “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He flashed a toothy smile that had her thinking back to the kiss they’d shared in his truck just a couple days ago. He must’ve had the same idea. His eyes dropped to her lips but quickly went lower to her chest.

  “Uh, up here.” Snapping her fingers she got his gaze to return to her face. “What can I do for you today?"

  “Right. I’m here because I wanted to ask you out. On a date,” he added.

  “You came by on a Monday morning to ask me out?” She eyed him suspiciously.

  “Yup.” He rocked back on his heels. “And I wanted to know if you do, uh…”

  “Do what?” she prodded.

  “Waxing,” he whispered.

  “Waxing?”

  “Yeah, you know where you put the hot wax on and then rip it off with a sheet of paper or whatever.” He wouldn’t make eye contact.

  “Yeah, I do waxing.”

  “I need something taken care of,” he said sheepishly.

  Ava’s eyes became wide and she sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh. I don’t do that sort of waxing. Uh…just…uh…”

  What? No! Oh, God! I don’t want that waxed!” He jumped back and grabbed the crotch of his jeans. “Holy hell, are you crazy?”

  “Me crazy? You’re the one asking for hot wax poured on you,” she defended.

  “I was hoping you could take care of this.” He stepped forward and pointed to the area between his eyes. The
re were a few stray hairs there, but hardly enough to qualify as a uni-brow.

  “Oh. Yes, I can take care of that.”

  “Do men really have their junk waxed?” He looked mortified.

  “Some do.” She shrugged. “Come back to the shampoo bowl, I’ll take care of your issue.”

  “Is this gonna hurt?” He sat in the shampoo chair and leaned his head back into the bowl.

  “Hurts like hell.” She began to spread the wax on his skin. He flinched at the warmth suddenly touching the delicate area between his eyes.

  “I think you’re gonna enjoy this way too much.” Luke closed his eyes, waiting for her to yank the cloth strip off of his face.

  “It’s payback for the whiskey incident.” Yank. And off the strip went. And with it, the six or so errant hairs that used to reside between Luke’s eyebrows.

  “Holy shit!” He shot straight out of the chair and began to rub in between his eyes. “Damn, that smarts.”

  “Quit being a baby. Man up.” She shoved at his shoulder to force him to lie back down. Once he was relaxed again she began to rub lotion on the freshly waxed area.

  “Ahhhh, you can do that all day.” He smiled.

  “Fat chance, buddy. I have better things to do than rub lotion on your face.” She laughed.

  “It puts the lotion on its skin,” Luke did his best Silence of the Lambs impression.

  “Don’t quit your day job,” she joked. “What is your day job anyway?” Ava stood to throw the used waxing materials in a nearby trash bin.

  “I’m an independent contractor,” he stood, still rubbing his face.

  “Like building things?”

  “I do more tearing down than building, but I’d like to get more into construction.”

  “There’re some amazing homes here in the south. You’d probably make a killing restoring some of them,” she mentioned happily.

  “Let me get done with my first building project and I’ll see how that goes.”

  Ava dropped the subject; it was none of her business what Luke did with his days. She needed to worry about herself. She finished cleaning up her mess in the shampoo area and went to the front of the salon. She took a seat in her chair to have a short break before her first client of the day showed up in thirty minutes.

  “So, what’re your thoughts on the date situation?” Luke asked while rubbing his waxed face.

  “Can I get back to you on that?” She turned away, not wanting to answer him. Yes, she wanted to go on a date with him, but her inner voice was screaming at a high pitched wail ‘D-A-N-G-E-R!’

  “No,” he shot back.

  “You’re not much of a southern gentleman are you?”

  “Do you want me to be?” he teased.

  “I want you to be…you.”

  “This is me. So go on a date with me.” Now he sounded like he might be begging a bit.

  “On one condition.” She spun around in the chair.

  “This doesn’t sound good…”

  “Just listen would you?”

  “Well?”

  “I don’t want to go to any chain restaurants. And I don’t want to go to Bo’s.”

  “That puts a bit of a limit on things.” He scratched his head.

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out. You look like quite the resourceful guy.” She looked him up and down wondering just how resourceful he could be.

  Luke looked as if he were in deep thought. “Got it. I’ll pick you up here Friday after you close.” He rubbed his hands together.

  “Where’re we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.” He gave a cat-that-ate-the-canary grin.

  “At least tell me what kind of clothing I need to wear. Casual? Semi-formal?”

  “Comfortable. I’ve got this covered.”

  “Okay, fine. I’ll see you Friday.”

  “Have a good week, Ava.” He went to the door and pushed it open. “Oh and by the way…I had to take care of myself when I got home Friday night. That kiss was sweeter than all the sweet tea in the south.” He winked and was gone.

  Ava sat in her chair, her face blooming with color.

  Did he really just say that? Holy Moses. The image of Luke Daughtry “taking care” of himself was for some reason a welcome image in the drought that was her brain.

  Chapter Four

  This wasn’t how the plan was supposed to go but for reasons unbeknownst to him, Luke couldn’t help but flirt with Ava when he was around her. She was the kind of woman who shined brighter than any other around her. She was special. Those facts didn’t take away the fact that she was also a paycheck. Money in his pocket if he did this job the way he was supposed to. Time to make another call.

  “Daughtry here,” he said as soon as the line cleared on the other end.

  “Did you get a location on her?” the other man asked.

  “Biloxi, Mississippi.”

  “Strange choice.” The man laughed.

  “What now?” Luke asked.

  “Just keep an eye on things for a bit and check in periodically.”

  “Will do.” He hung up.

  If this shit got any more complicated he’d need an archeologist to dig through and sort it all out.

  ***

  “I knew you’d give in eventually.” Brandi giggled.

  “Piss off and paint that wall like you’re supposed to be doing.”

  “Hey! Be nice or I’ll leave.”

  “I told you not to come over anyway. So you won’t hurt my feelings,” Ava bit out.

  “You’re not getting rid of me. I needed something to do. It was either barge in on you or take Nana to bingo. You’re kind of saving me tonight.”

  “Glad I could be of help. Now stop dripping paint on the floor and put it on the walls.”

  “Aye, aye, captain.”

  Lucky would’ve been an understatement when thinking about finding a friend like Brandi. Sure she was a bit of a pain in the ass, but she was always there to lend a hand. And she’d been the friendliest to Ava when she was just a stranger in town. In the beginning Brandi was the typical nosy townsfolk. But as time went on she stopped digging. She respected the privacy Ava wanted and they didn’t argue too much about it. It wasn’t like she found pleasure in deceiving Brandi; she had no other choice. Anyone who knew what’d happened in Chicago would’ve possibly given up her location. She couldn’t risk that. Opening a business in town wasn’t the smartest way to stay anonymous of course, but there were ways around being publicized. The local newspaper constantly wanted to do an interview for their business section but Ava found reasons and excuses to say no. She didn’t do any sort of advertising for the salon and her business license was under the alias she’d created. To the people here, she was Ava Greenwood. No one knew her real name, and it would stay that way. To her Avalyn Woods was long forgotten.

  “You look zoned out,” Brandi observed.

  “My mind is going crazy lately.”

  “Do tell?”

  “Not happening.” She snickered and turned back to paint a new wall.

  “Always so private. I swear one of these days I’ll crack open that nut of yours.”

  “I don’t want you anywhere near my nut.”

  “Speaking of nuts…please tell me more about Luke.”

  “No way! You’re so damn nosy.”

  “Come on. Indulge me. I need a fantasy to keep me going. I’ve hit a dry spell that can only be the equivalent of a mouth full of saltine crackers.”

  “That’s TMI. And Luke, well, he seems nice enough. He’s kind of private like me I guess.”

  “What’s with you people? Don’t you know you’re supposed to post every little detail about your lives on Facebook and tweet out shit on Twitter? Get with it.”

  “I like my life the way it is. Hassle-free.”

  “You sound like an old person.”

  “And you sound like someone who’s going to get choked with that drop cloth if you’re not careful.”

  “Point taken.
I gotta pee anyway; where’s the bathroom?”

  “All the way at the end of the hall. I have to get something out of the garage while you’re in there.”

  “Okay.” Brandi nodded and went in search of the bathroom.

  Looking over her shoulder to make sure Brandi wasn’t trailing her, Ava slipped through the kitchen and quietly pulled open the solid door that led to the attached garage. She closed it behind her and took a deep breath. Her hands were trembling as she took a few steps forward, leaned down and threw back a corner of the massive grease-laden cloth tarp on the concrete floor. This was one of the main reasons for her interest in this house, the built-in cellar in the garage floor. Cellar wouldn’t really qualify for what it was, though. It was more of a small in-ground storage space or storm shelter. Its concrete ten by six foot walls were perfect for storing smaller items and tools. And of course the things Ava stashed in there.

  She bent down to turn the knob on the combination lock that kept her little hiding spot locked up tight. 10-5-13, the month, day and year she began running. That day would be seared into her mind for as long as she lived. Going quiet for a second more, Ava listened to make sure Brandi hadn’t gotten curious and come searching for her. It was still silent on the other side of the wooden door. She pulled the round lock base which set it free from the thick metal prongs. After removing the lock she reached around and lifted the top of the hiding place. It was made like the hood of a car— you could prop it open with the accompanying thick, metal pole. The six steps that led into her hidey-hole were made of concrete and she took two at a time to get to her items. Nervousness always swamped her when she approached the oversized black duffle that sat on a small work bench at the back of the storage space. Not that anyone knew the secret spot was in the floor of the garage—the previous owners weren’t around anymore. They’d moved to Maine, or some other New England state with cooler temperatures and loads of fresh lobster. Once more Ava listened for sounds above her; still nothing. It was always the same when she checked on the black duffle; her fingers didn’t seem to belong to her as she pulled the zipper back and revealed the contents of the bag. How almost $2 million could fit inside a duffle like that was beyond her. But it did. The banded stacks of one hundred dollar bills lay haphazardly in the interior like they were waiting for someone to take them on a shopping spree. That wouldn’t happen. This wasn’t her money to spend. Sure she’d spent some of it to buy her home, but that was all she’d take from the money that had cost someone their life…not just hers.