Page 39 of Moonlit Hideaway
Daddy didn’t waste time with formalities. He ordered a hit, and it was bye-bye, birdie.
But Daddy had Enrico, the Enforcer, and Chauncey, the police chief, paid to look the other way.
Sierra was only one of Daddy’s little girls—to be protected while Daddy was around, and then sold to the highest bidder, in this case, Marco.
Her businesses belonged to her, and she wouldn’t forfeit them to anyone. Now that the word was out—and she was sure it was since Liam was too stupid to keep his trap shut—Sierra needed to take control and take them all down.
No more cowering in the dark. But what to do about Hank, Emma, and Mabel?
She would fight, but she couldn’t endanger them. A hard conversation lay ahead of her. She had to speak to Hank about who she was and the threats on the horizon.
Before stepping out of her room, Sierra paused by the mirror. Moonlit Harbor, with its quaint charm and the genuine warmth of people like Hank and Emma, had seeped into her heart, making the thought of leaving feel like abandoning a piece of herself. She touched the glass, her heart aching at the thought of what revealing her truth to Hank might cost her. But the longer she stayed, the deeper she fell into this world that wasn’t meant for her—a quiet, unknown life tucked away out of sight and forfeiting the stardom she’d worked so hard to earn.
Taking a deep breath, she exited her room and knocked on Hank’s door.
“Hey, how are you?” He opened his arms, and she melted into his embrace. He smelled fresh from the shower, with his hair still damp and tousled. “Are you okay?”
“I need to talk to you.” She swallowed a lump in her throat.
“If it’s about Liam, I already took care of it. I fired him, and he’s left the island.”
“Why did you fire him?”
“I saw him bothering you and that whole thing about the scarf. I can’t tolerate that kind of behavior.”
“Oh, Hank, thank you. But where’s he going?”
“I don’t rightly care. Your safety is more important. I think he recognized you, and he might be angling for a bit of blackmail. But I took care of it, and he’s gone.”
It wasn’t as simple as Hank believed, but it would be a long story. Perhaps it would be easier to let him know she was done with her retreat—that she was taking charge of her life. It would mean leaving, and she hadn’t counted on going so soon.
“I’m feeling much better than I was a week ago.” She gave him an encouraging smile, trying to gin up the courage to tell him she was ready to return to her old life.
“Dad!” Emma’s voice coming up the stairs interrupted her. “We’re going to be late for the meeting.”
Hank looked at his watch and squeezed Sierra’s hand. “I promised Emma to go to the festival planning meeting. She got accepted for the talent show.”
“Why, that’s great.” Part of Sierra was relieved she didn’t have to break his heart—at least not yet. She turned to Emma and hugged the teen. “I knew they’d choose you. You’re going to be great.”
“Can you perform with me?” Emma tugged her hand. “Please, please?”
“Now, why would you need me?” She chuckled in a light manner. “You’re practically a pro.”
“Jane, can we table the talk for later?” Hank pulled on his jacket. “I’m glad you’re feeling better. Do you want to come tothe meeting with us? It’ll give you a chance to meet some of the townsfolk.”
“Yes, yes, come with us,” Emma said. “My favorite teacher wants to meet you.”
How could she resist both father and daughter? They were including her as part of their—she didn’t dare say family—but it felt good to be wanted.
“Sure, why not? Let’s go.” She was putting off the inevitable, but Hank looked pleased when she’d told him she was feeling better, and Emma was excited. She’d deal with Liam later through Uncle Tony.
Sierra couldn’t help smiling as Emma walked between her and Hank toward the town hall. It wasn’t much larger than a one-room schoolhouse but was well-maintained with its white clapboard siding and raised floorboards. She was beginning to see that all houses were built on stilts, some as high as a story, whereas others were only a few feet from the ground.
The interior buzzed with the lively energy of a close-knit community coming together. Round tables dotted the room, each labeled with a different festival component: decorations, food, talent show, and more. Strings of lights cast a warm glow over the space, and the tempting aromas of baked goods and fragrant flowers from the various stations mingled in the air. At the talent show table, a gaggle of high school girls chatted excitedly, and Emma hurried over to join them, pulling Sierra along.
“This is Jane, my guitar teacher,” Emma announced to the giggling girls, who stopped their conversation to scrutinize her.
Sierra fidgeted under their assessing gazes, feeling self-conscious. She deliberately chose her most unremarkable outfit, hoping to blend into the background. But this level of disdain stung because had they known she was Sierra Rayne, they would have been fawning over her and begging for autographs and selfies.
