Sins & Needles (The Artists Trilogy #1) Read online

  Then I kissed him on his rough cheek and said goodbye.

  Now, I was hoping he’d be willing to take me in again.

  The foreboding guitar strings of Calexico’s “Gypsy’s Curse” started playing as I entered Palm Valley’s Main Street, which only added to the drama. I peered from storefront to storefront under my dark shades. The town still had the kitschy ‘50s and ‘60s vibe, but now it was retro chic. All the stores had fresh, bright coats of paint, creating a wall of aquamarine, saffron, mint, and cobalt. Palm trees lined the narrow street and the street signs hung above flower boxes spilling over with red flowers. It looked clean and wholesome and sweet enough to make my teeth hurt.

  None of the stores looked familiar. None of the faces looked familiar. My heart rate slowed and feeling came back to my hands and feet. I’d been worrying for no reason at all. When I left Palm Valley, it was a bit down at its heels, especially when you compared it to nearby resorts like Palm Springs and Palm Desert. Now it looked like the town could give them a run for their money, or at least provide for people who wanted charming desert living without the golf courses and condo fees. It was different now. And so was I.

  It took a while to get off of the main street thanks to the new stoplights and plethora of crosswalks, but as soon as I was back on the highway and turning off onto Date Palm Way, a wave of nostalgia hit me. The air even smelled the same as it once did, hot pavement, dried palm husks, and orange blossoms.

  The date farm was at the very end of the road, lined with rows and rows of palms. I spied a few clouds of dust rolling up through the sections as laborers rode their tractors along. Judging by the burlap sacks that hung from each palm, the harvest season was fully upon them. Surely he’d be able to give me a job helping the harvesters. It wasn’t glamorous work at all; it was long hours in the hot sun, skin peeling off your nose despite the hat and sunscreen, climbing up and down the trees until your hands were singed by the ladder and sticky from the dates. Luckily, I was the type of girl who liked to get her hands dirty.

  It wasn’t until I spied the house where I’d spent my formative years that I started second guessing my decision to just show up unannounced. To put it mildly, it looked like shit. It used to be a well-maintained ranch with terracotta shingles and a beautiful rock garden that surrounded the house like a desert moat. Now it could have passed for abandoned had it not been for the tractor and pickup truck out front. Christ, he still had the same truck I learned to drive in and it barely ran back then.

  I pulled Jose to a stop on the street and approached the house with trepidation, wiping my hands on my jeans. I could hear the far-off cries of Spanish from the workers in the groves and the coo of a few ground doves that were walking across the cracked, tiled driveway. An enormous wash of guilt curved over me like the surrounding palm fronds. The last time I talked to my uncle was two years ago, when I was holed up in Vermont. I told him I’d send him some money and he said he was fine and didn’t need my charity. I meant to send him some cash anyway but I never got around to it.

  Now it looked like he was in dire straits. And that would make two of us.

  I took in a deep breath at the door, noticing the doormat was the same as it was back then, the same thick embroidery that his wife had done up before she died. It was patched with black mold and barely hanging together. I hoped that wasn’t symbolic.

  I knocked quickly and snapped my hand back. I waited, taking a moment to look around me. I wouldn’t have been followed but some habits stuck with you. Being extra precautious was a wonderful habit for a girl like me.

  I raised my hand to knock again when the door was opened a crack and I spied a familiar looking eye peering through it.

  “Uncle Jim,” I said through a broad smile.

  He frowned and the door opened fully.

  He looked me up and down and said, “Oh shit.”

  ***

  “I’m sorry, but you know you can’t stay here,” Uncle Jim was saying to me in his dusty kitchen as he poured me another glass of iced tea, the undissolved crystals swirling around the bottom like tornado debris.

  I breathed out sharply through my nose, trying to hide my frustration. I’d been talking to him for an hour and we hadn’t gotten anywhere except that I wasn’t welcome.

  “Look, I get that you’re a proud man,“ I started.

  His eyes snapped up. He looked so much older now that it scared me; his dark hair had gone grey, the sides of his mouth lined like canyons, but his eyes were still sharp and determined.

  “This isn’t about pride, Ellie. If you were someone else offering to help me, I’d take you up on it. It’s not like I’m not getting enough fucking charity from Betty down the street, bringing me hot meals a few times a week. I know I’m struggling here. But you’re not someone else. You’re Ellie Fucking Watt.”

  I wrinkled my nose at his profanity. “I didn’t know fucking was my middle name.”

  He raised a caterpillar brow. “No?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, Uncle Jim. That’s not a very nice thing to insinuate of your niece.”

  He smiled—ever so briefly—but I caught it. He turned around and pulled open the fridge, looking at it blankly. There wasn’t anything in there except condiments. “Well, I beg your pardon for not being an appropriate uncle. I haven’t seen you since you were nineteen, you know.”

  “Oh, I know.”

  He seemed to think about pulling out a jar of mustard but decided against it. What, was he going to make me a mustard milkshake? He slammed the door shut and leaned against the counter.

  “I’m sorry I can’t offer you anything to eat.”

  “I had some beef jerky in the car.”

  He looked me over and shook his head. “You’re too skinny, Ellie.”

  “It’s just my arms,” I told him defensively, crossing them over my chest. “Stress does that to you. I’ve still got enough weight down below.”

  He nodded and his face pinched in sympathy. My heart thumped. I knew what followed that look.

  “How’s your leg doing?”

  I gave him a tight smile. “My leg is fine.”

  “And you’re still grifting?”

  “Sometimes,” I said, diverting my eyes. Suddenly the pattern on the faux marble countertop was fascinating. “I’ve quit for good though. Had a close call in Cincinnati. Don’t want to do that again.”

  Without glancing at him, I knew he was giving me the “a leopard doesn’t change his spots” look.

  “What con went wrong?”

  I suppressed a smile. “It was just an online dating thing.”

  “And...?”

  “And, well, it just didn’t go as it normally does.”

  “And how does it normally go?”

  “Get a bunch of desperate men to fall in love with you. Tell them you’d love to meet them, fuck them, marry them, but you’re stuck in Russia and don’t have the funds to leave the country to do so. Get them to give you the funds. Close down your OK Cupid account. Simple as that.”

  I could see him shaking his head out of the corner of my eye. “Jesus, Ellie. That’s low.”

  “Oh, spare me your sudden display of ethics,” I said with a wave of my hand. “That’s how it works. I don’t go after men who can’t afford it, I’m not that cruel. Most of them are cheating on their wives too, so how about them apples? Besides, it’s not a quick scam. It takes months to build up a fake relationship. But that’s why I usually have six on the go at once. Makes it worth my while.”

  He gulped down the rest of his drink in a fit of thirst. “All right, well what happened in Cincinnati?”

  It suddenly felt very stuffy in his kitchen. I was tempted to open the window above the sink but I could tell the breeze had picked up and was blowing around dust from the groves.

  I started sliding the razor blade charm back and forth along my necklace. “I just picked the wrong guy. And I got sloppy. I thought he was an American, but he wasn’t. He gave me a fake name and that should h
ave set me off. Who says they’re Steven when they’re really Sergei? He also had a lot of money to throw around. Too much. That should have also set me off. He kept sending me gifts to my PO Box in St. Petersburg, really flashy items that I had to pretend I’d gotten, like pearls and diamonds. Really makes me want to take a trip to Russia and empty it out. Anyway, I got the money from him in the end, way more than I normally get and then I disappeared.”

  I took a sip of the iced tea and said, “Everything was back to normal for about a week. The money had been wired to my offshore account as usual. Then I got an email from an ex-boyfriend of mine. Said he was in town and would I meet him for a drink. So, I did. Turns out it wasn’t my ex, but Sergei and that big bald bull was pissed. I barely got out of the bar.”

  “So what do you think happened?” Uncle Jim looked pained and I couldn’t blame him. I was only twenty-six, far too young to be playing with Ukrainian mobsters.

  I shrugged. “The only thing I could think of was him contacting the post office in St. Petersburg about the PO box. I couldn’t remember what name I signed up for the account with. He might have traced me to Cincinnati somehow. I lived with my ex for a couple of months, and I’m guessing he went there under false pretenses, got the email of my ex, and impersonated him. I totally underestimated Sergei. I think he was involved in a bunch of bad things.”

  My uncle’s eyes turned hard and flinty. “This ex of yours…is this…”

  “No,” I said quickly. “No, this was some guy I met at the rock climbing gym. Jack. It was short and sweet. And what are you getting at?”

  He raised his fingers and looked to the side. “Oh, I just heard some things, that’s all.”

  “What kind of things? And from who?” Panic was starting to press on my chest. He couldn’t be talking about who I thought he was. I mean, he could not. It was impossible. Oh shit.

  “Whose car is that outside?” he asked.

  Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit.

  “How do you know about all of this?” I asked, shooting to my feet and sending the bar stool clattering behind me.

  “Easy there, Hellie.” He was back to calling me my nickname from high school. It would have been charming had my blood pressure not been through the roof at that moment. Ativan. I had Ativan in the trunk.

  “I talked to your parents a few times, you know. More than you have, ” he continued.

  I blinked stupidly. “Okay, aside from the fact that I can’t believe you’re talking to them again, I don’t know what my parents could possibly know about—”

  “You falling in love with a drug lord?” he supplied. “Oh, they know enough. It’s a small world out there. If you double-cross enough people, you’re bound to double-cross them again.”

  His words coated me like fine dust. My parents were alive and kicking. They were talking to my uncle. And somehow they knew all about Javier.

  “What did they tell you?” I asked quietly, hiding my hands behind me so he couldn’t see them shaking.

  “Well, they are back in Gulfport. No, maybe it’s Biloxi. Somewhere on the coast. And apparently they aren’t the only ones visiting their past.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Why on earth would my parents return to Gulfport? We fled from that place like it was a life and death situation and I’d grown up believing it was.

  “Didn’t you return to Gulfport after you left here?” he asked me, as if he could read my thoughts. “Maybe they went back for the same reason.”

  Yes, but I went back for revenge. For what had happened to me all those years ago. For what had scarred me for life.

  “So what did they tell you?” I asked. I ground out the words like hard kernels.

  He scratched beneath his ear and looked down into his glass, examining the floating crystals. The sun was streaming through it, causing a tea-colored stain to dance on the walls. “They mentioned how you had been living in Gulfport after you left Palm Valley. They hinted that you’d switched sides for a few years, shacked up with one of Travis’s men. Javier…something Spanish. Then, for whatever reason, you left. Took his money and his car.”

  I swallowed hard. I wanted nothing more than to run out of the house and back into that said car and drive far, far away. That was always plan A and it had worked out great so far.

  “Okay,” I said, trying to find an angle in our conversation. “But how did they find that out?”

  “Look, I don’t know. This was a few years ago anyway. It hasn’t come up since.”

  “So you still talk to them?” I asked, brows raised to the ceiling.

  He nodded. “Maybe twice a year. We ain’t close, if you catch my drift. Which is why you can’t stay here.”

  “You still won’t let me stay here?”

  “I especially won’t let you stay here. Scamming men on the internet? Didn’t your parents teach you anything?”

  “Yeah! To con people.”

  “No, Ellie,” he said and then licked his lips. He looked so much older than he should have. I wished I could just wipe the wrinkles from his face. “Didn’t what they did to you teach you anything? Eventually you’re going to get hurt.”

  I raised my chin, my walls rising up around me like metal siding. “I’ve already been hurt, as you love to point out. And I told you, I’m done. I’m trying to go legit and you won’t even give me a chance. You haven’t seen me since I was a teenager. You don’t know me. You don’t know when I’m being honest.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But I am being honest. I need a job, Uncle Jim. I need a place to stay.”

  He let out a deep sigh and threw the rest of his drink in the sink. “You can stay here for a couple of days, that’s it. If you want to hang about in Palm Valley, that’s fine. But you don’t hang out here. You need to find your own place. Your own money. I can’t give you any money and I can’t even give you a job. I owe those men out there money already and there’s not enough harvest to break even this year. Sad but true.”

  “I can help out around the house, clean it up a bit,” I offered.

  “And I expect you to,” he said sternly. “But only for a few days. I suggest you hightail it to town and start looking for employment now.”

  “Why are you so afraid of me?” I asked him softly.

  I thought he’d look perplexed at the question but he only looked chagrined. “I’ve always been afraid of you, little Hellie. You’ve got something dark inside you, you always have. I don’t want to be around when it comes out. And more than that, I’m trying to make good in this community. I’m trying to make good and get help when I need it most. Do you think people will be so generous to me when they find out I’ve got my sister’s daughter staying here? Do you think a town ever really forgets its criminals? It doesn’t. Palm Valley may look prettier, but it’ still a stubborn old lady who won’t think twice about running you out of town. And me too.”

  “Now,” he said, making his way to the sliding door that led into the date palm grove, “I’ve got to make sure my livelihood is alive. I’ll see you later.”

  I watched him go, vowing to myself that I’d never be in financial stress at his age, no matter what the cost. Then I turned and left the house. I had some jobs to apply for.

  CHAPTER TWO

  I drove back to town in pure frustration, my ever-present anger swarming up my throat. I gobbled more Kava pills with one hand and switched off my music with the other. My mood didn’t suit my favorite playlist anymore. This wasn’t about desert life and hope and optimism. This was about shit I had no control over. My fucking parents. What the hell did they know about me and Javier, anyway? That was a very long time ago and it wasn’t as simple as a man and woman breaking up, she taking his car and money. This wasn’t a Carrie Underwood song. This shit went fucking Anthrax for a while. It still kind of was.

  Not many people had an ex that would probably shoot them in the head if they ever found them. And I meant that in the most literal sense.

  As I was wondering if Javier would still bother l
ooking for me after all these years, I pulled the car (okay, his car) up along one of the many trendy looking cafes that peppered the street. I couldn’t use any of my past references but I knew my way around an espresso machine. I had a new plan, since my uncle speared my original one through the heart. I’d stick around here for a while, make enough money, and then head out on the road. No, I didn’t know where I was going to stay after he kicked me off the date plantation, but I knew I’d figure something out. I always did.

  I turned off the engine and let the heat build up inside for a few moments. It was just past one and my stomach was eating itself. I took in a few deep breaths through my nose and wondered if it were possible to overdose on Kava. Technically, the root was a mild narcotic but you could make anything beneficial in small doses. I missed the days when it only took a pill to curb my anger and anxiety. Now it took too much.

  I grabbed my purse, a nice leather thing with tassels, and sashayed my way into the coffee shop, the door opening with the tinkle of a bell. I wasn’t wearing a sundress like most of the women in the shop, but my jeans were clean, my boots were shiny, and my bright yellow tank top showed off my fading summer tan. I had brushed my hair in the car, smoothing it down to acceptable levels, and did a quick swipe of makeup over my lids. I wasn’t anything flashy, I was just pleasant enough to sail under the radar.

  Shivering a bit at the air conditioning, I did a quick survey of the room. There was an older couple in the corner, relaxing in armchairs, the silver-haired woman with cat-eyed glasses doing a crossword or Sudoku, her husband reading a book. Everyone else was pretty young. There were three teenage girls giggling in the corner over blended coffees, wearing tube tops and shorts that made me envious. A smattering of college-aged kids were spread about, typing on their laptops, earphones in their ears, while two businessmen were making awkward small talk over even smaller cups of espresso. Pretty standard stuff. Even John Mayer was playing over the speakers, but the new Mayer, after his years of exile on a ranch.