Hagen Read online

  JANICE M. WHITEAKER

  Hagen, Book 1 of the BIG series

  Copyright 2018 by Janice M. Whiteaker.

  www.janicemwhiteaker.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publisher and copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  First printing, 2018

  Cover design by Robin Harper at Wicked by Design.

  Editing by Laura Seroka.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  Also By Janice M. Whiteaker

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  Further Reading: Magni

  The man who is prudent

  a measured use

  of the might he has will make;

  He finds when among

  the brave he fares

  that the boldest he may not be.

  −the Hovamol

  1

  “What in the hell do you have in here?” Rhea grunted as the swollen carry-on she struggled to wrestle free jumped the lip of the mini-bus’ storage area and caught her square in the chest. “Holy hell Stewart I can’t believe they didn’t make you check this monstrosity.”

  “Re-Re you don’t understand what it’s like to not just be naturally beautiful.” Stewart pulled a handkerchief from the back pocket of his distressed jeans and dabbed at the sweat collecting across his forehead. “Some of us have to work at it.” He carefully refolded the yellow printed fabric before tucking it back in place. “Especially if we wish to have the things we desire.”

  Rhea shoved the bright red roller bag at her best friend, the impact knocking him a step back. “I’m becoming significantly less concerned with you having the things you desire.” She turned back to the open bus hatch then shot Stewart a glare over her shoulder. “Make that the one specific thing that dragged me here.”

  Stewart sighed and let the heavy bag slide down his front to the asphalt under his feet, a stupid grin on his face. “But what a thing he is.”

  Rhea pulled her own bags free from the open side of the bus one at a time and lined them up in a neat row. She stood up and bent back at the waist to stretch her spine after the long trip wedged into a too-small seat with no legroom. Her eyes wandered up the front of the surprisingly nice bed and breakfast she and the rest of the crew would call home for the next three weeks. The sprawling three-story structure had a historic look to it with white clapboard siding and deep green shutters, but the poured cement foundation and perfectly symmetrical lines suggested that was just that. Historic looking. “This isn’t really what I was expecting when you said Appalachia.”

  Stewart raised his perfectly arched brows at her. “Are you complaining?”

  Rhea peeled off the thin sweater she wore on the plane and tied it around her waist before digging through her purse in search of an elastic to wrap around her pile of hair. “Not yet but if this place isn’t air-conditioned you won’t hear the end of it.” The heat here was almost as surprising as the bed and breakfast.

  “Thank God.” One of her thick and heavy, ultra hairbands was tangled in the keys to the apartment she shared with Stewart. Rhea pulled it out and snapped it over her wrist. “I thought you said it would be cooler here?”

  “I’m not a meteorologist Re-Re.” Stewart dabbed at his head again as he looked around. “I thought it was cooler in the mountains.” He used the damp square of cloth to fan himself. “What is wrong with this place? It’s like trying to breathe a sponge.”

  “It’s the humidity honey.” An older woman sided up to Stewart, a warm smile plumping out her already full cheeks. “It’s a killer this year.” She grabbed the handle of Stewart’s carry-on and tugged, her eyes widening when the engorged bag barely moved. She let it rock back onto all four wheels. “I’ll let one of my boys get that one.”

  “You might need two of them for that thing.” Rhea pulled on her backpack and grabbed her suitcase, pulling the extendible handle up before tipping the well-worn suitcase down and rolling her way across the freshly paved road to the sidewalk. The sooner she got out of this heat the better. It was making her crabby.

  Or maybe it was this whole stupid trip that had her ready to spit fire at her best friend.

  “Oh—” Rhea stopped short as she nearly collided with the woman, who was now standing perfectly still, staring at her, mouth slightly agape.

  Rhea looked to Stewart for help. Did she say something offensive? Socialization wasn’t her strong suit and more often than not things came out in a completely different way than she intended. Rhea’s mind fumbled through the few words she said to the woman, trying to decipher which caused the obvious upset. She came up empty and started grasping at straws, trying to smooth over the only thing she could imagine might have insulted the woman. “I just meant it’s so heavy you might need two of your boys.”

  The woman blinked twice.

  Rhea managed a tight smile even though she was pretty sure the hole was only getting deeper. “I didn’t mean I thought your boys were weak. I just meant—”

  “Your hair.”

  Rhea looked more closely and noticed the woman was, and always had been, staring at her hair. Her hands automatically moved to smooth over the thick waves she hadn’t yet managed to tie up off her sweating neck. “I think the humidity is getting to it too.”

  “It’s beautiful.” The woman’s voice was almost breathless. Filled with wonder. Over a pile of hair that was the bane of Rhea’s existence since it sprouted from her scalp twenty-eight years ago.

  “Flames of the fire within.”

  Rhea sighed. She hadn’t put her foot in her mouth after all, but a guilty part of her wished that was the reason for the woman’s odd reaction instead of the rebellious nature of her hair follicles.

  The unusual color of Rhea’s hair was old news. Really old news. Barely a day passed during her school years without some little asshole kid making a smart comment.

  Usually it was about her lack of a soul.

  Which was completely untrue.

  Stewart bumped against Rhea’s side and rested his hand on her shoulder, arm draped loosely across her back, coming to her rescue as he always did. “Did you say something about your sons helping us with our bags?”

  The woman shook her head. “Where are my manners? I am Gail.” She held out her hand to Stewart. “My son should be here any minute to help unload. You made it here a little earlier than we expected.”

  Stewart snorted. “Because that driver man tried to kill us on the ride up here. I thought we were dead at least five times.” He took Gail’s hand in his, more of a clasp than a shake. “I’m Stewart and this is Rhea.”

  Rhea rolled her eyes at her best friend’s dramatic retelling of the mostly acceptable, but miserably long, drive through the mountains. “It wasn’t that bad.”

  Gail turned to Rhea, her gaze softer than before but still strangely intense. “I’m so glad you are here.” She clapped her hands together. “Let’s get you all into the air conditioning.”

  Rhea turned to find the other three members of their crew propped against the side o
f the bus. The sound guy, Heath, was bent at the waist, his hands on his knees. The last two members of their small crew stood on each side of him. Towered was actually a better description. “Is he doing any better?”

  Andy, the bigger of the two overly large gear guys, tipped his shaved head from side to side and shrugged. “He hasn’t barfed anymore.”

  Heath’s other friend Rick grinned as he opened a bottle of water and poured a thin stream over Heath’s bent neck. “He hasn’t barfed any less either.”

  “Fuck you guys.” Heath straightened. “I think I need to lie down.”

  Gail scooted past Rhea and wrapped one arm around Heath’s waist. “Let’s get you inside handsome.”

  Rick and Andy followed behind, disappearing into the B&B behind Gail and a staggering Heath.

  Stewart looked around at the pile of baggage left in the middle of the street as the mini-bus pulled away. “I hope they’re coming back.”

  Rhea huffed out a breath as she tugged her suitcase toward the sidewalk. “You better pray this isn’t a sign of things to come.” She hefted her bag over the curb and glared at Stewart. “I hope you realize I will leave you here if this is a shit show.”

  Being right was usually a good thing. Picking the right lottery numbers. The right hair product. The correct word in a crossword puzzle. All good things.

  Now was not a time Rhea wanted to be right. Especially after flying across the country and spending the whole drive from the airport listening to poor Heath heave into a plastic bag on the bus. “And it better not be.”

  Stewart leaned his weight into a large suitcase, trying to balance pushing it while pulling his smaller, but still hefty, red carry-on. “It won’t be.” He tipped the large suitcase over the curb, squatting down to roll it end over end until the bag was back on its wheels. “Chauncey is amazing.” Her friend looked back at her as he started pushing his luggage toward the front steps leading to the bed and breakfast. “He’s supposed to be here tomorrow. I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

  The stars in Stewart’s eyes were obvious and they made her nervous. If this Chauncey guy wasn’t all Stewart promised she might just have to kill her best friend, and considering they were in the middle of podunk West Virginia surrounded by nothing but mountains and dense forest, she’d probably even be able to get away with it.

  Rhea shifted the backpack on her shoulders. Using one hand to hold the straps away from her body she used the other to wrestle her hair from underneath the bag’s pinning weight, twisting the pile of red strands at her nape once the mass was free. She looped the elastic from her purse around the wad. Once. Twice.

  Snap.

  Rhea closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She shouldn’t be this agitated by a broken rubber band yet here she was, ready to throw whatever she could get her hands on as far as she could.

  Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the bus ride. Or the flight. Or maybe she just didn’t want to be here chasing a mythical creature through the mountains. Or maybe it was because all the things she planned to accomplish by this point in her life never happened and it was becoming painfully clear they probably never would.

  That was why she was here now on a pointless job. Because there was the chance it might be more. Her last chance to get where she wanted to go. Needed to go.

  Rhea let her pack fall to the ground behind her back and dropped her purse to the sidewalk at her feet then crouched down to find another hair tie. With hair like hers she never went anywhere without an ample supply of the things.

  Except apparently Greenlea, West Virginia.

  “That’s great.” Rhea yanked the zipper back across the top of the canvas cross-body bag. She hadn’t bothered to pack any in her other bags because there were always at least ten in her purse. Letting her head fall forward, Rhea raked her fingers through her hair, working it into a tight twist. The pencil she used to work puzzles on the flight here poked out from the back pocket of her purse. She grabbed it and stabbed it through her twisted locks, doing her best to anchor the ample weight and stood up.

  “I’ll get these.”

  Rhea jumped at the deep voice at her back and spun fast on one heel. A little too fast. Fast enough to knock out her precarious makeshift updo, sending the pencil flying to the concrete and her hair tumbling back over her sticky neck.

  But she didn’t notice.

  Mostly because the most terrifyingly large man she’d ever seen was towering over her, the backpack she just dropped dangling from his grip. Rhea resisted the urge to step back, instead squaring her shoulders. You didn’t live in LA for five years without learning to have a backbone no matter what the situation.

  Or opposition as it were.

  “I can get them just fine thank you.” Rhea tipped her head back just slightly to look into a pair of eyes the color of the freshwater lakes near her childhood home. They were beautiful. They were also narrowing quickly, studying. Appraising.

  He stood silent for a long minute.

  So did she.

  “Fine.” He all but dropped her bag back to the sidewalk and stepped around Rhea without hesitation or explanation. It wasn’t until his broad shoulders and long arms were loaded with half the crew’s baggage that she realized her mistake.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

  Gail’s son gave a sharp shake of his head. “It’s fine.” He stretched to his full height and stared down at her, his pale blue eyes as frosty as his temperament.

  He was beyond large. More than intimidating. Sullen looking and obviously a man of few words.

  She liked him.

  Rhea gave him a curt nod. “Good then.” She turned on her heel and marched up the steps to the bed and breakfast without so much as a glance back.

  She didn’t need to look to know he was there, behind her, carrying more weight than anyone she knew could manage in three trips, yet he handled it like it was nothing. She could feel him the same way she could feel the pressure of the atmosphere around her. Pushing. A weight laying heavy against her skin.

  It was powerful. It was palpable. It was unusual.

  The etched glass door opened just as Rhea reached the wood-planked front porch and a welcome gust of cool air swept across her face.

  “I was coming back for you Re-Re. I swear.” Stewart stepped back as she passed with her bags then swung the door closed without looking. It only made it halfway before bouncing back at him, sending Stewart jumping back, yelping in surprise.

  Gail’s son stood in the open doorway, the toe of his boot across the threshold.

  Stewart took another step back as his hand fluttered to land over his heart. “Oh my.” His voice was breathy and his brown eyes were glued to the man taking up more than his fair share of the world.

  “Hagen.” Gail rushed between them, her shoes squeaking to a stop on the shine of the wide-plank wood floors. She frowned up at him. “Your brother was supposed to come.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.” Hagen pushed past his mother and into the large hall. “Where do you want these?”

  Gail glanced at Rhea, her brow furrowing at the load of bags strapped across Rhea’s chest and back. She spun to face Hagen and yanked a bag from his hand. “Front room.” Gail shoved him in front of her and toward the first room on the right then gave Rhea a sweet smile over her shoulder. “I’ll be right back dear. Don’t go anywhere.”

  The door shut behind them and Rhea turned to Stewart. “This is all weird, right?”

  Stewart was still looking at the closed door. “Weird or not that man is fine.” He shook his head. “We should have come to the mountains sooner.”

  Rhea set her baggage down beside Stewart’s at the base of the large wood staircase twisting its way from the foyer to the second floor. She pulled her arms behind her back to stretch out the tension still lingering from their day of travel. “I’m not sure I’m sold on us being in the mountains now.” Rhea grabbed a fist full of her hair and flapped it around to move the cool inside air agains
t her neck. “You don’t have a hairband do you?”

  Stewart cocked his shaved head at her. “Why would I have a hairband?”

  Rhea shrugged. “It was worth a shot.” She turned to look up the staircase. “Gail didn’t show you to our room yet did she?”

  “If she did do you think we would still be standing here?”

  Rhea tossed Stewart a glare over her shoulder. “Don’t even try to pretend you wouldn’t make me stand here so you could check out Gail’s son again.”

  Stewart gave her a one shouldered shrug and a sly smile. “Can you blame me?”

  Just then the door clicked open and Gail breezed out, a stiff smile plastered on her face. “Let’s get you two upstairs.”

  She snagged Rhea’s backpack and purse on her way past, swinging them both over one shoulder and looping her free arm through Rhea’s. “You leave that bag there and I’ll have it brought up.” Gail gently tugged Rhea up the stairs ahead of Stewart. The older woman leaned in close, the smell of freshly laundered clothes swimming in the air around her. “I’m sorry about Hagen. He’s a little...”

  Rhea smiled at Gail. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

  Gail wilted the tiniest bit. An odd reaction since Rhea was trying to reassure her. “Well. Good then.”

  At the top of the stairs was a small sitting area with two large, well-stuffed chairs and a thick-legged coffee table. It narrowed to a floral-papered hall with crisp white doors lining each side.

  “You two are sharing a room?” Gail glanced at Rhea before eying Stewart.

  “Yes ma’am.” Rhea stopped beside Gail in front of the second door on the left. “I’m the only one who can put up with him.”

  “I heard that Re-Re.” Stewart rolled up behind them, his red carry-on in tow. He edged his way between the women, bumping Rhea back a step with his behind. “Don’t let her lie to you. She would be lost without me.”

  Gail twisted the glass knob and the paneled door opened into their room. “I doubt she’ll be getting lost anytime soon.”

  Stewart laughed his way through the open door. “You’re right about that Miss Gail.”