Tobias rolled the cigar between his fingers, staring at the unlit cylinder.
He considered what he’d built here in Black Oak. After a lifetime of running cons, he’d settled down and gone legit five years ago. He’d been quietly making reparations over the years, but paying back a few hundred grand wasn’t going to stop the FBI from nabbing him if they had a chance. He could opt out, let someone else take point. The risks were huge.
But then, so were the stakes. And every good con knew, it was the high-stakes games that were worth playing.
“I can handle it.”
“And your kids?”
Tobias sighed, pushing to his feet and pretending his bones didn’t protest at stretching quickly in the damp winter chill. He tossed the cigar on his desk and strode over to stand before the pictures.
Caleb, Maya and Gabriel.
Smart kids. Good-looking, shrewd and nimble-fingered, even as little punks. Once, they’d thought he’d spun the sun on the tips of his fingers and carried the moon in his back pocket. Once, they’d believed in him. Once, they’d been in his life.
Now? Now he’d settle for one out of three.
“I can handle it,” he repeated.
And before this game was through, he’d know who was behind the drugs, who was trying to set him up. Whatever fledgling crime ring was forming would be busted.
If he won, his kids would be a part of his life again.
And if he lost? At long last, his ass would be locked up in the federal pen.
But Tobias Black didn’t lose.
1
DAMN SEX. IT RUINED everything.
“I can’t believe I’m back in Black Oak.” Pandora Easton’s murmur was somewhere between a sigh and a groan as she dropped a dusty, musty-smelling box on the floor behind the sales counter.
“No guy, no matter how good in bed, is worth losing your job, your reputation or your self-respect for,” she muttered to herself as she looked around Moonspun Dreams. The morning light played through the dance of the dust motes, adding a slightly dingy air to the struggling New Age store.
Sometimes a girl just needed to come home. Especially when she didn’t have a choice.
Even if that home was falling apart.
Two months ago, she’d been on top of the world. An up-and-coming pastry chef for a well-known bakery in San Francisco, a gorgeous boyfriend and a strong belief that her life was—finally—pretty freaking awesome.
Then, poof, everything she’d worked so hard for the last several years was gone. Destroyed. Because she’d fallen for a pretty face, been conned by a smooth line, and worst of all, ruined by a good lay.
Nope. Never again.
Pandora was home now.
Which was really just freaking awesome.
With a heavy sigh, she poked one finger at the box she’d rescued from next to a leaking pipe in the back room. It was unlabeled, so she’d have to see what was inside before she could figure out where to put it.
To disguise the musty scent, she lit a stick of prosperity incense. Then Pandora rubbed a speck of dust off a leaf on the braided money tree she’d brought in this morning to decorate the sales counter, and tidied a row of silken soy wax candles with embedded rose petals.
“Not a bad display from a recently fired bakery manager,” she commented to Bonnie.
Bonnie just cocked her head to one side, but didn’t comment. Since she was one of the two store cats, Pandora hadn’t expected much response. Probably a good thing, since the last thing Pandora’s ego needed was anyone, human or feline, to point out all the crazy reasons for her thinking returning home to start her life over was going to work.
The cats, like the rest of Moonspun Dreams, were now Pandora’s responsibility. She was excited about the felines. But the jury was still out on the quirky New Age store that’d been in Pandora’s family for decades. The very store Pandora had wanted to get away from so badly, she’d left town the day after she’d graduated high school.
Before she could settle into a good pout, the bells rang over the front door. Bringing a bright smile and a burst of fresh air, Kathy Andrews hurried in. One hand held a bakery bag, the other a vat-size cup of coffee.
“I’m here to celebrate,” Kathy sang out. She stepped over the black puddle of fur that was Paulie the cat sunning himself on the braided carpet, and waltzed across the scarred wooden floor.
“What are we celebrating?”
“That you’re back in Black Oak. That you’re taking over the family store. Not just for the month your mom is in Sedona for that psychic convention, but for good. And, more important, we need to celebrate the news that your best friend had some really great sex last night.”
Pandora exchanged looks with Bonnie. There it was, sex again. But this was Kathy’s sex. It wasn’t as if that could mess Pandora’s life up.
“I’m not so sure having to come home because I failed out there in the big bad world is an excuse to party,” Pandora said with a rueful laugh as she took the bakery bag and peeked inside. “Ooh, my favorite. Mrs. Rae’s éclairs. I thought she’d retired.”
“Mr. Rae’s off competing in some pumpkin-carving contest until next Saturday, leaving Mrs. Rae home alone for their anniversary week. Cecilia said her mom dropped off four dozen éclairs this morning with notice that she’d be making pies, too.”
One of the joys and irritations about living in a small town was knowing everyone, and everyone knowing your business. In this case, both women knew Mrs. Rae’s irritation meant cherry pie by dinner.
“Cecilia seemed surprised when I mentioned I was coming here,” Kathy said, not meeting Pandora’s eyes as she took back the bag and selected an éclair. “She said she thought Moonspun Dreams was doing so bad, your mom had given up keeping it open on weekends. I know I should have given her a smackdown, but the éclairs smelled too good.”
While Kathy dived into her éclair with an enthusiastic moan, Pandora sighed, looking around the store. When she’d been little, her grandmother had stood behind this counter. The store had been filled with herbs and tinctures, all handmade by Grammy Leda. She’d sold clothes woven by locals with wool from their own sheep, she’d taught classes on composting and lunar gardening, led women’s circles and poured her own candles. Grammy had been, Pandora admitted, a total hippie.
Then, when Pandora had been thirteen, Granny Leda had retired to a little cabin up in Humboldt County to raise chinchillas. And it’d been Cassiopeia’s turn.
Her mother’s intuitive talents, the surge of interest in all things New Age, and her savvy use of the internet had turned a quirky small-town store into a major player in the New Age market. Moonspun Dreams had thrived.
But now that the economy had tanked and New Age had lost its luster, it was almost imploding. Leaving Pandora with the choice of trying to save it. Or letting it fade into oblivion.
“Cecilia was right. Things are really bad,” Pandora said. “No point in risking the best éclairs in the Santa Cruz Mountains over the truth.”
“And now Moonspun Dreams is yours. Are you going to give up?” Kathy asked quietly, holding out a fingerful of the rich cream for the cat. They both watched Bonnie take a delicate taste while Pandora mulled over the slim choices available.
Her mother had said that she’d run out of ideas. She’d told Pandora before she left to be the keynote speaker at the annual Scenic Psychics conference that the store was hers now. And it was up to her to decide what to do