I pulled my truck into a little gas station just outside of Grand Junction and plucked a map of Colorado from the center console. I suspected the GPS was taking me in circles, and the sunlight was fading fast. I’d traced the route the GPS had been using and groaned. Yep, circles. I knew Havenwood Falls had to be somewhere close, but the GPS coordinates were screwed up, and the map didn’t show it even existed. The GPS said my destination was nearby, yet no matter what direction I drove, I ended up back near Grand Junction. It felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.

The high-pitched squeal of brakes caught my attention, and I looked up to see a shuttle bus at the other end of the parking lot. The advertising on the side said, “Vacation in Havenwood Falls!”

“Hot damn.” I tossed the map into the passenger seat and hopped out of the truck. I jogged over to the shuttle just in time to catch the driver as he disembarked.

“Hi,” I said. “Are you going to Havenwood Falls?”

The driver smiled, the laugh lines around his eyes deepening. “I sure am. It’s about time you got here. We’ll be heading out in about twenty minutes. You need a ride?”

I shook my head. “What?” He must have had me mistaken for someone else. “No, I have my vehicle. I’m just having a hard time finding the town.”

He glanced behind me at my old truck. “That thing got four-wheel drive?”

“No,” I stated.

His expression changed from friendly to concern. “Well, it might make it out there. Sometimes it’s a little rough.” He scratched his head a moment, then adjusted his cap. “You’re welcome to follow me, if you like.”

“Thank you. I appreciate that very much.”

He nodded and looked at his watch. “We leave on the hour, so be ready to go.”

“No problem.”

I walked back to my truck and put the map away. The folder on Jetta Mills sat on the passenger seat, the corner of her photo poking out of the edge. I pulled the photo out and studied her face. Her beauty struck me again. Not a Miss America kind of beauty, but more like the sweet girl next door who had indulged in her bad girl tendencies. She didn’t look innocent by any stretch of the word, but there was a softness in her face that spoke of the hopeful girl she once had been. Her ice-blue eyes were the kind a man could lose himself in, if he weren’t careful.

I shook the thought from my head. It wouldn’t do for me to lust after the target. I had to keep a clear head, especially if getting her back to Atlanta meant using illegal means.

“Shit!” I slammed my palm into the steering wheel. I hated that I was in this situation. No doubt, this would have to be the last time I took a sketchy job, no matter how much I was offered.

I wanted to take one more look at the Havenwood Falls website while I waited, so I searched it on my phone, but could no longer find it. No matter what I put in the search bar, there were zero results. I was starting to wonder if someone was playing some kind of elaborate prank with the place.

The bus pulled out of the parking lot, and I hurried to catch up. I stayed close behind it as we made the somewhat treacherous drive up, down, and around the mountains. When I saw the “Welcome to Havenwood Falls” sign a couple of hours later, I breathed a sigh of relief. It did exist. I wasn’t losing my mind. Step one down, many more to go.

The shuttle stopped at the town square. The quaint little area included walkways, a large fountain in the center, and a gazebo on one corner. I rolled down my window and signaled to an elderly gentleman getting off the bus.

“Excuse me. Can you recommend a hotel?”

His eyes squinted at me as he stepped closer. “Unless you’re staying at the ski lodge, the only other place is Whisper Falls Inn.” He pointed straight ahead. “It’s on that corner.”

“Thanks.”

He nodded and continued on his way. I drove the short distance to the inn and put the truck in park. My wrist began to burn. I removed the brown leather cuff I’d always worn over a tattoo on my right wrist. I’d collected a lot of tattoos over the years, but I must have been really drunk when I agreed to that one. I didn’t remember doing it. I couldn’t complain about the quality. The tattoo was a Celtic triskele, roughly two inches in circumference. The three arms, made entirely of flames, swirled forward to meet the next. The artist did a great job with clean lines and subtle shading. For a colorless tattoo, the details were immaculate and well done. A triskele symbolized a balance between your inner consciousness and your outer self, but I had no idea why I chose one made of flames. Normally I would have loved a tattoo like that, but something about this one bothered me. I’d started wearing a cuff over it several years ago, and that had become habit. Every once in a great while, it would burn, similar to the sensation of a tattoo needle as it marked my skin—just as it did in that moment. I rubbed the spot with the thumb of my left hand and scanned the area outside my truck. The wind was picking up, and what few people were out and about scurried to enter the businesses that were still open. I put the cuff back on my wrist and ignored the stinging. It’d been a long day, and all I wanted was a warm bed and some uninterrupted sleep.

* * *

I woke up the next morning surprised to realize I’d overslept. I was generally an early riser, but the drive straight through from Georgia to Colorado must have wiped me out. I glanced at the bedside clock that said eight fifteen a.m. I sat on the edge of the bed and stretched. A shower sounded like heaven, so that was my first objective of the day. I allowed myself to soak under the hot water for just a few minutes before washing up and toweling off. I slipped on a long sleeve T-shirt with the AC/DC logo on the front, then pulled my jeans up over my hips. After slipping socks on my feet, I donned my boots. They were brown leather with a thick heel and steel toe. Perfect in my line of work, especially if head-busting was necessary. Bail jumpers didn’t often go peacefully. I glanced in the mirror and gave my hair a quick swipe with my fingers, gathering it into a ponytail at the nape of my neck. My black hair was thick, and while I liked it long, I’d been keeping it no longer than my shoulders for the last couple of years; I preferred ease over length.

I took a moment to run my fingers through my neatly trimmed beard as well. I was thankful it mostly hid a one-inch scar that ran down the right side of my lower lip. Another injury I didn’t quite remember.

“You gotta quit drinking,” I said as I glanced at myself one last time before walking to the door. I swiped my keys and wallet off the side table, stuffing them into my pocket, then grabbed my cuff and put it on my wrist, wondering once again why the crazy tattoo burned at weird times.

I had just made it down the stairs when I felt a firm pinch on my ass.

“Whoa.” I turned around. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. Behind me was the sweetest looking woman. Her gray hair shone, and she wore a purple gown. She smiled at me as if all she’d done was wish me a good morning. I snapped my jaw shut, turned back around and hurried out the door. I was sure I hadn’t imagined that pinch, but I couldn’t fathom the older woman doing it either. Just before the door shut behind me, I heard the girl behind the registration desk say “Madame Luiza!” as if to scold her.

I shook my head and grinned as I grabbed my jacket from my truck and slipped it on. Time to do some digging into the life of Jetta Mills.

* * *

I’d spent all day wandering Havenwood Falls. On the surface, it certainly appeared to be a nice little town, although all towns had their undesirable components. The people seemed friendly enough. I knew I couldn’t just blurt out that I was looking for Jetta. If word made it back to her, and in a small town like this, it always did, she might bolt, and I’d have to start my search all over again. My best strategy was to blend in as a tourist, get to know the people for a few days, and keep my eyes and ears open at all times. Someone would eventually say something, or I’d see her. Finding her was inevitable. She was a beautiful woman, so it wouldn’t be hard to fake interest in her and hopefully gain a little of her trust.

I’d heard someone mention that the Mills family had a large house in the fancy part of town up the hill, so that was information I stored away for later. I’d also heard that Simple Treasures Pawn Shop was owned by her family, so that was my next stop.

I opened the door and stepped inside. The store was brighter than I’d expected, with two-tone walls of gray and white, separated by a black chair rail. The wood floor had been polished until it shined. The overhead lighting appeared to be LED, and it gave off more of a nice jewelry store vibe than that of a place where people hocked stuff out of desperation. One side of the room had a long glass case with everything from jewelry to collectibles. The other side contained shelves of all sizes. Delicate dishes shared a shelf with vases, small statues, and those geode rock things that seemed to be so popular. Another section of the room, near the back, had instruments neatly lined up, as if waiting for a concert to start.

“Hi, are you looking for something in particular?” a young female voice said from behind me. I turned to see a teen girl with white-streaked dark hair and blue eyes. Her smile was friendly, so I returned her greeting.

“I’m new in town and just looking around.” My words were clipped, and I had to remind myself, for the hundredth time, to be more outgoing. Being my usual reclusive and suspicious self wasn’t going to win me any favors. Old habits die hard. I stuck my hands in my jacket pockets and glanced around the room some more, looking for anything that might interest me. I needed a reason to hang around for a bit without seeming creepy.

“Are you here on vacation?” she asked.

“Yeah. Although if I like it enough, I might consider staying.” I spoke slowly this time, making sure I didn’t rush my sentences. I walked toward the jewelry case and glanced inside. “Do you like living here?”

She moved behind the case and nodded. “Oh yeah. It’s an awesome place to call home.” She studied me for a moment, then stuck out her hand. “I’m Zoey.”

I shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Zoey. I’m Conrad.”

I prayed I didn’t sound gruff. I was told my demeanor could scare small children. If I sounded like a jerk, she didn’t seem to notice. She continued to smile at me.

I kept my eyes focused on the contents in the case. Her cheerful attitude was making me uncomfortable. I never had been good with kids, even when I was a kid.

My eyes roamed a row of thick rings, and I bent down for a closer look.

“Aren’t those cool?” said Zoey. “My grandpa has a lot of items flown in from all over the world. Some of those rings are really old.”

My eyes snapped to one ring in particular, and a lump caught in my throat. The silver ring was flat on top with an insignia embossed into the metal. An image that matched my weird wrist tattoo exactly. What the hell?

I pointed to the ring. “Can I see that one?”

“Oh, I really love that one. I tried to buy it once, but my dad said it wasn’t meant for me.” She huffed out a frustrated breath. “He’s so picky about what I wear.” She turned and pulled a set of keys from a drawer. After unlocking the case and sliding the door back, she pulled the ring out and laid it on a blue velvet pad, placing it in front of me.

I leaned down and inspected the ring, but didn’t dare touch it. I wasn’t a superstitious person, but I believed, for at least a few moments, that if I touched it, something bad would happen.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” I mumbled.

“Wanna try it on?” Zoey’s enthusiasm for making a sale had me biting back a true smile.

“No, thanks. I just wanted to see it up close.” I glanced at her. “Do you know the origins of the ring? Or what the symbols mean?” I was oddly desperate for an answer that would clear up my confusion.

“Not really. My dad and Grandpa are the ones that deal with most of that.”

“Zoey? Honey, who are you talking to?” A man who appeared to be in his mid-forties stepped from a room in the back of the store. “Oh, so sorry. Didn’t realize we had a customer. Has Zoey taken care of you?” He smiled at the teen.

“Yes, thank you. She’s been very helpful.” I couldn’t keep from stealing another glance at the ring still sitting on the counter.

“Ah, I see you’re interested in a very unique ring.” He smiled as he walked toward us.

“I’ve never seen one like it. Zoey thought you might know its history.” I put my hands in my jacket once more, resisting the temptation to pick up the ring.

“Oddly enough, I don’t. It’s a Celtic triskele, which in and of itself isn’t unusual, but the flamed arms aren’t anything I’ve seen before.” He picked the object up. “Admittedly, I haven’t had a lot of time to investigate it, so I’ve likely just not stumbled across the right information yet.” He held the ring out to me. “Is it your size?”

I backed up, unable to avoid the ludicrous reaction. “I don’t think so.” I glanced at my watch. “I need to run, but it was nice to meet you both.”

The man smiled. “Please come in anytime. You’ve met Zoey, but I didn’t introduce myself. I’m her father, Tristan Mills.”

I nodded. “I’m Conrad Monroe. Thanks again for the hospitality.” I flashed them one last nervous smile and slipped out of the store, my heart racing in my chest.

“What the hell was that?” I whispered.