Read Online Tangled Lies by Connie Mann - Free Book Online Page B

slit all four tires. He slammed a fist against the side of the truck, then cursed the pain that radiated up his arm while hot coffee sloshed over his other hand.
    He shook out his aching hand and threw the coffee mug onto the straggly lawn. Not only would he lose time he didn’t have, but given the size of the truck, replacing the tires wouldn’t come cheap. He stood for a moment, fighting to bring his frustration under control. He’d known there’d be some who wouldn’t welcome a guy who’d spent time in jail to their tidy little community. But the fact they’d done this right after he arrived showed a level of animosity that ticked him off.
    He just wanted to prep his boat and win the race. And OK, yeah, start over in this little one-horse town. That didn’t seem like too much to ask. Apparently, it was. He wasn’t one to go looking for a fight, but someone had brought this one right to his door.
    He stomped over and scooped up Clarabelle’s flowered mug, annoyed the stupid thing hadn’t smashed. He scrubbed a hand over his face. Whatever. He had work to do. He double-checked the size of the tires, marched back inside, traded flip-flops for tennis shoes, and tossed some water bottles and a sandwich into a backpack. The sky was gradually lightening as he started the two-mile trek to Safe Harbor Marina. That should give him plenty of time to get his temper under control.

    Sasha pulled into the gravel parking area next to the house. She really wanted to crawl back into bed for another hour or so, but she’d told Pop she’d help him at the marina when they got back.
    Blaze opened her door and slid out, then said, “Don’t try to weasel out of this and go without me.”
    “I told you I’d take you with me.”
    “I’ve heard about how much your word is worth.”
    Sasha winced at the accusation. Before she could respond, Blaze slammed the door behind her, and Sasha wanted to yell that she shouldn’t slam doors when Mama was trying to sleep.
    The irony made her sigh. Oh, that girl could get under her skin. She eased the car door closed—they’d made enough racket already—and looked up, surprised to see Jesse walking down the drive from the road.
    “Morning.”
    He raised a hand in greeting and kept walking. Well, that was rude. She turned and intercepted him just as he reached the shed Pop was letting him use as a workshop.
    “What’s the matter with you, Money-boy? You don’t even say good morning?”
    “I was trying to be considerate by not yelling at the crack of dawn.”
    “I wasn’t yelling.”
    “Didn’t say you were.”
    He nudged her out of the way, unlocked the padlock, and slid the door open. He stepped inside and pulled the chain on the overhead bulb. Weak light filled the space.
    She looked around. “Where’s your truck?”
    He set his backpack on the workbench. “Home.”
    “Why would you walk all this way? It’s got to be, what, a couple of miles.”
    He sighed and spoke without looking at her. “Go away, Sasha. I have work to do.”
    Something wasn’t right. She stepped closer and peered at him in the gloom. “What’s going on?”
    “Somebody slashed the tires on my truck last night.”
    “What? Did you call the police?”
    “No. Just let it go.”
    “Tires, plural. How many?”
    “All of them, OK?” He stepped around her and headed for the dock and The Painted Lady .
    Sasha dogged his heels. “Why won’t you call the police?”
    He stopped, turned, annoyance in every hard line of his body. “Somebody obviously doesn’t want a possible felon in their little town. I expected as much.”
    “It isn’t right. I’m going to—”
    She turned to go and he grabbed her arm so fast she stumbled. He spun her around and waited until she met his eyes.
    “No. You are going to do nothing. This is my business and I will handle it my way.”
    “But it isn’t righ—”
    He leaned in and silenced her with a quick kiss that was over before she’d even registered what happened.