Greek Gods Bearing Gifts

Greek Gods Bearing Gifts

A thief. A cop. A Greek god’s pawn shop.

Liberty Smith is certain putting two thieves in charge of a pawn shop is a terrible idea, even in Olympic View, tourist attraction and home to some people with unusual skills. Fresh out of prison, Liberty’s ready to go straight, all the way to Omaha if necessary, and take her baby brother Frank with her. Organizing the junk passing for inventory at Titan Pawn and the employees who aren’t all what they seem was never part of the plan.

Justin Barrett is a fine cop, just like his father before him. His only weak spot? The girl he put in prison who now has blood on her hands. Literally. To save pain-in-the-neck Frank and free Liberty to leave Olympic View, Justin joins a very strange mission. To 1983. With an odd watch and Liberty in the shortest red dress it’s been his pleasure to see.

Greek Gods Bearing Gifts is reunion-story, sexy paranormal romance featuring the charming god of thieves, two people who never stopped loving, and the underworld’s all-you-can-eat rib buffet.

About Cheryl Harper

Whether she’s writing, reading, or checking the items off of her daily to-do list, small-town girl Cheryl Harper loves her romance mixed with a little laughter. When she’s not working, you will find her ignoring housework, cursing yard work, and spending way too much time with a television remote in her hand.

Website: http://CherylHarperBooks.com

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Goodreads: Cheryl Harper

Copyright © 2015 by Cheryl Harper

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, and events are fictitious and are not meant to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events or places is coincidental.

All right reserved. This work may not be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any manner without the author’s written permission. Brief quotes used for the purpose of promotion or review are permitted with proper attribution.

Books by Cheryl Harper

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Love Me Tender in the Kiss Me anthology

Stuck on You

Can’t Help Falling in Love

Santa, Bring My Baby Back

Least Likely to Fall in Love

Most Likely to Turn up the Heat

Least Likely to Marry a Millionaire

Most Likely to Rule the World

Sweet Contemporary (Harlequin Heartwarming)

A Minute on the Lips

The Bluebird Bet

Winner Takes All

Heart’s Refuge

Paranormal

Greek Gods Bearing Gifts

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Dear Reader

Least Likely to Fall in Love Excerpt

Chapter One

WHY ARE WE HERE, FINK? Uneasy with the open space and too tired to argue with her little brother, Liberty stared at the decrepit neon sign that was doing its best to shine. TITAN was completely burned out and only part of the W was lit so the message was PAIN. The sign could be one of the truest cases of truth in advertising that she’d ever seen.

Forget about omens and faulty neon. Get the plan on track, Liberty.

This was her Farewell, California tour, where Frank took her somewhere to cash her prison gate-money check and dropped her at the closest bus station with a cheerful wave goodbye. She’d go as far as she could, while he drove off into the sunset in his landlady’s antique station wagon.

Since he’d sacrificed her, let her do the time for his failed bank robbery alone, it was the least he could do.

Frank would never say so, never confess their father had been the one to set her up, but she was certain he’d strong-armed Frank to keep him from stepping up. She’d promised her mother she’d always take care of Frank. Untangling him from Art Smith’s control would make that a simpler job.

After nearly three years, she was ready to give her dream of normal a try.

She couldn’t let him derail her again.

Convincing herself to leave Frank on his own had been long, hard work in the dark, sleepless nights she’d spent in a small cell listening to snoring Darla—a girl who’d decided to blow up a car with her boyfriend in it.

Come on. You love surprises! I bet you never expected to own half of a pawnshop. And Titan Pawn? It’s a Hollywood landmark. Landmark? That was stretching the truth beyond its usual elasticity.

Unless he meant a landmark for the…gifted in Hollywood.

That might be true.

Almost everyone who lived in classy Olympic View, families like hers with a Greek god somewhere way back in the family tree, would wrinkle a nose at being called a part of Hollywood anything. Along with what might be called a sixth sense or even amazing ability, the gods’ offspring often inherited a disdain for normal people and their ways.

Not that everyday citizens knew that. The gods didn’t move among them much anymore. They didn’t have to. There were plenty of offspring like the Smiths to move around like chess pieces.

Knowing which citizen of Olympus had perched in the family tree could illuminate a lot about a person. For example, descendants of the god of thieves might have Liberty’s ability to track lost things or Frank’s way with locks, making second-story windows front doors, and enthusiasm. Unfounded, unstoppable enthusiasm.

She’d spent some time daydreaming about what it would be like to call Hestia—goddess of home and hearth—great-grandmother instead. No one would know, since Hestia was one of the virgin goddesses.

Liberty wasn’t sure whether that meant Hestia deserved congratulations or condolences.

Frank rubbed his hands together as he walked up and down the broken sidewalk. He never stood still if he could pace, usually throwing his arms wide in excitement over his latest inspired and yet nearly always terrible plan.

In his perfectly ironed oxford button-down and crisp khakis, he looked a whole lot more like a well-fed insurance salesman than a pawnshop owner—or gambler, his first vocation.

One of the lessons of successful theft was to blend in. Frank matched his marks. That made it easier to escape.

On the other hand, in her prison-issue T-shirt and jeans, she’d be the first suspect for whatever crime he had in mind.

"I hate your surprises. They turn out badly for me. Like when you were sixteen and broke into the car lot to go for a joy ride, and I lost my job for going to bail you out. Liberty had tried to ignore the persistent itch in the center of her chest when she’d settled in the passenger seat of the station wagon Frank had pulled up in. Did you borrow or steal this car from your landlord?"

Frank’s immediate sunny smile was depressing enough to sap whatever energy she’d gained by escaping the constant, overwhelming anxiety being locked away with hundreds of women who’d lost their way caused.

She’ll never know it’s gone.

Frank might even be right about that.

Liberty hated that his answer hadn’t changed after all these years.

"You land on your feet. Remember when I broke my arm by falling off that ladder in Malibu? You walked away without a scratch. On my birthday. Neither one of us got to swim in that fancy pool. Frank Smith’s plans always work for Frank Smith."

And Liberty Smith never learned.

The ridiculous wave of guilt that washed over her as Frank’s shoulders slumped was exactly what had kept her fighting to hold onto him for so long. Hurting him, even with the truth, was painful. She loved him. She just couldn’t live with him, no matter that she’d promised her mother. Keeping Frank safe was a promise no mere mortal woman could keep.

What do we know about owning any kind of business, pawnshop or otherwise? This is the kind of place we used to hit, Frank. Or the kind of places she used to hit, mainly to keep him in food and clothing while their father was enjoying his life without them.

Resenting him for his mistakes was a waste of time.

He’s your brother, Liberty. Family sticks together.

Her mother’s voice was clear, more than a decade later.

"So, we’re experts. We made a good living off of shady businesses. We ought to know every trick in the book to make this one work. Come on. Frank wrapped his hands around her arms and shook. You can’t help but see the opportunity here. I need you. Jail made you nervous. I get that, but this is our chance. Your chance to start fresh. He turned her to look down the street. We’re in the best location in town. All we need is luck, and this could be what we’ve been waiting for."

Liberty stared hard at the lopsided DEAD END sign hanging on the barricade that marked the end of the sidewalk in front of the shop and back at Frank.

Plenty of parking. He shrugged like everyone could see the benefit of being literally the last stop before the dead end. And the rest of the businesses are nice.

They were. The street could be a beautiful movie set, perfectly clean and ready for its close-up. From here, she could see a statue of Kate and Leo, Titanic king-of-the-world style, a squeaky clean pie shop, two upscale dress stores, a glitzy gym, a florist, and what seemed to be a bookstore. All of them were painted in bright colors and well lit. They also seemed to be leaning as far away from the pawnshop as they could get.

The shoppers wandering the sidewalks were dressed well, selfies with movie scene statues and the Hollywood sign were flowing freely, and no one was casing the shops for the easiest target. Liberty wished for a single afternoon of being that carefree.

Her father had never quite forgiven her for moving to Olympic View to get a job after her mother died. Jobs were four-letter words to Art Smith. His escalating crimes made it clear Liberty had to find her own way and take Frank with her. Since she’d been seventeen, it had taken some ingenuity.

And larceny.

The pawnshop’s gray paint, malfunctioning neon sign, and general air of surrender of the front window discouraged people from getting too close.

How had ugly Titan Pawn escaped a visit from the Fourteen, the force the gods used to police each other and the gifted while keeping their existence secret from the rest of humanity?

What’s the worst that could happen, Lib? Frank’s question was familiar. She could predict his irritation if she answered it. I’ve got no money in this. If we walk out with none, what have lost?

He had a point. He usually did. That was what made him so dangerous. Blaming him was easier than dealing with the fact that, even though she knew better, she still followed him. Tried to save him.

Don’t you know what kind of people come into pawnshops? Liberty said and towed Frank farther away from the door. Criminals. People who’ve stolen stuff and plan to dupe upstanding citizens into buying it. People like us, Frank. We’ll be arrested in less than a week. Or worse!

What could be worse? Frank asked.

Death. Dismemberment. Those would be worse. But not by much.

Frank cocked his head to the side like he was considering her point. "Okay. Death and dismemberment would be worse. You definitely need to watch less true crime TV. I can’t figure out what you think will happen. Surely with your special talent—he tapped the end of his nose like that talent was a nose for… She had no idea what—we’ll have no problem keeping to the straight and narrow. He didn’t turn his head but he looked out the corner of his eye to direct her attention behind him. And did you miss the giant guarding the door? We’ll hire a few more."

Liberty leaned around him to stare at the statue man standing next to the shop’s glass door. His hands were clenched at his sides, his shoulders square. She wasn’t sure he was breathing. Black ink trailed down his hard bicep and muscled forearm. Grim face. Nerdy black glasses that did little to distract from his dead stare.

Okay, so that guy looks like he eats broken glass and shattered dreams and then craps machetes. She ignored Frank’s strangled laugh as the giant’s head turned. Nothing on his face changed. His lips didn’t quirk. His eyebrows didn’t arch. But he blinked twice. She was going to take that as surprise. Then he tipped his chin a fraction, gave it a small shake, and faced forward again.

It would be a much nicer thing to sign his paycheck than to meet him a dark alley…without a paycheck, so Frank had a point.

You have quite a way with words. Frank frowned. Be careful not to alienate our best employee. Our? Was he doing it again, talking her into going along with his plan?

She should have refused to get out of the car.

Frank smiled over his shoulder at the statue man who didn’t acknowledge his existence. The place is already staffed with people who know what they’re doing. The manager’s been running the place for years. We’ll let her continue and—he waved his hands in front of him—oversee. Cash the checks.

Those imaginary checks you’re always counting on. Liberty glared at him. Cash my check. Put me on a bus. That’s my plan, Frank. Come with me. Nebraska or Kansas, places no god would find us. When Dad shows back up, we don’t have to follow him anymore. We could be…accountants or even insurance salesmen. She could hear the wistful tone in her voice, but knew Frank wouldn’t.

Dad’s around, Lib, Frank said and patted her shoulder. You know how it is. Sometimes he has to lay low and he’s sorry—

Forget it. I don’t want to talk about him. Let’s talk about us. Our family. What we could do anywhere but here. The desperation in her voice was unfortunate, but this could be her last chance to leave and take Frank with her.

Stay long enough to build up some cash, make the move easier. The hand he held out was manicured, with smooth tan skin that looked nothing like hers. Her prison work schedule had left little time for spa treatments. Or at least step inside. Then, if you haven’t changed your mind and want to turn your back on this awesome opportunity, I’ll take you to the bank and the bus.

Before she could answer, Frank added the fatal blow, the one that had always overridden her better judgment. Please, Lib. I need your help. Instead of her big problem, she could see young Frank with bright eyes, messy curls, and a beat-up math textbook. Helping him with his homework after they walked home from school had been her first job.

Family sticks together.

Thanks, Mom.

One month. I want more guys like that one. She pointed at the statue man who might have nodded. And if you get me arrested, I will murder you in your sleep, and then I will hunt you down wherever you end up and make you suffer.

Come on. Don’t look like that. Frank wrapped his arms around her in an awkward dance. We can make this work.

He’d always been able to lighten her mood. Thanks to you, I’m always caught between ‘this is a terrible idea’ and ‘here goes nothing.’

Such a cheerful outlook on life. Frank’s teasing illustrated his own ability to overlook the worst parts of living.

Jail can do that to a girl. Liberty bared her teeth at him as he patted her hand like he was a courtly gentleman.

Frank almost looked sorry for two seconds, then the expression faded to one of unfounded confidence. Let’s meet our newest friends.

They stopped in front of the statue man and Frank held out his hand. Franklin Smith. And you are?

The statue man studied the hand as if he was plotting how to defuse a bomb. After a long, uncomfortable few seconds, his hand engulfed Frank’s. Ty. Then he crossed both arms over his chest and waited.

Liberty. When she realized she’d said her name slowly and pointed at herself like she was communicating with an alien, Liberty shook her head. "My name is Liberty. Smith. It’s nice to meet you."

Ty added nothing to his previous statement. No last name. No pleasantries. No discernible reaction. One syllable—a first name or part of a last name or his word for the day.

Who were his people? Knowing which god was in the family tree might mean the difference in friend or foe. As old as the citizens of Olympus were, they’d had plenty of time for infighting. Their progeny weren’t immune to the bad blood, and humans were much easier to move on the chessboard than the gods themselves.

Stumped, she turned to Frank who nodded like everything was perfectly normal. Nice to meet you. Don’t know if Shorty had a chance to explain, but we’ll be taking over the day-to-day operations here. Ty neither confirmed nor denied.

Liberty had the overwhelming urge to ask what Frank meant by the operations comment.

New owners. How hard was that to say?

But Frank was in motion. Liberty cleared her throat, and Ty lifted his chin in acknowledgement. Before Frank could push the door open, someone came flying through it to land on the sidewalk in a pile of fleece and curses. You can’t throw me out like this. I got business to do. Get Shorty now. The pile slowly unfolded to stand on the sidewalk in the form of a tall, thin man with no hair and three eyebrow piercings.

A petite woman with bright blue hair paused in the doorway, her feet braced for launch. Beat it. He’s not here. No, we don’t know when he’ll be back, and no, we don’t want to stare at your ugly face until then.

Relieved not to be the target caught in the crosshairs, Liberty glanced at Ty. He seemed bored with the whole conversation. The unfortunate soul about to reap some pain took one step toward the woman who narrowed her eyes. That was enough to convince the man who had at least a hundred pounds on her to step back, turn around, and leave, muttering under his breath.

Just another day at Titan Pawn, Ty drawled.

Instead of gaping at the tight-lipped giant’s first words or renewing her effort to escape the crazy pawnshop’s pull, Liberty followed Frank inside. Bells over the door jangled as they stepped into a junk pile. The place was called a pawnshop by kindhearted individuals, but jumbled piles of stuff stretched every direction. Every pawnshop Liberty had ever had occasion to enter had followed basic merchandising rules: put similar stuff together.

Shorty used a different system—chaos.

She’d never make it two days in this mess. Already her fingers tingled with the need to move the three small radios onto the same shelf.

Order.

Her life had always been crazy at the edges, but her own space, her time, had been planned, organized.

Liberty turned in a small circle and barely caught the whimper that bubbled in her throat at the idea of living in such a nightmare. Or worse, what could be living in there with her.

Distraction. She needed something else to focus on.

I’m Cindy. Nice to meet you. If the small woman standing near the door had been twice as tall and covered in two hundred pounds of muscle, she might be Ty’s twin sister. Their expressions were so similar.

But no. She was petite, strong, and beautiful. Her head-to-toe black clothing showed no weapons, but there was still something about her stance that said she could be lethal. Another someone on the jagged edges diet.

Avoiding those people had been a life skill Liberty picked up in prison.

Liberty shook her hand and tried not to let her surprise at such a sweet name show on her face. Murder. Rue. Stiletto. Something like that would have made perfect sense, but Cindy?

Liberty pasted on what she hoped was a friendly expression as she surveyed the puzzling complete lack of weapons on Cindy’s person. Her ability to handle trouble without a gun or knife had been demonstrated beautifully. What kind of person tossed trouble with her bare hands? One to be handled carefully. Are you the manager?

Security. Manager’s Hannah. She’s in the back. Cindy’s economical way with words was nearly as impressive as Ty’s.

The back? The thought of how the back was disorganized sent a roll of uneasy indigestion through Liberty’s stomach, and she glared at her brother. It’s all becoming clear what my role is here, Fink.

Clean up. As usual.

He squeezed her hands. You love this stuff. As soon as I saw the place, I thought of you. So much to organize.

That was the absolute truth. Liberty didn’t even have to weigh his words. She’d been straightening his messes for a long time. In the beginning, she’d been hunting lost shoes or school books. Now it might be car keys or… wallets, security badges, passkeys. She’d gotten pretty good at finding lost things.

In her new, boring, completely uncriminal life, she was going to have to practice ignoring the impulse and the nausea, pounding head, and racing heart that followed.

What can I help you find today? The cultured tone did not fit Titan Pawn’s atmosphere.

A regal woman with stark white hair and very high heels squinted at them over hot pink reading glasses. Her hands were clasped in front of her and the weak sunlight that made it through the dirty window lit her impressive collection of rings like a sparkling disco ball.

Hannah, I’m guessing? Frank’s charming smile would be perfect to greet a long lost relative and hid a careful evaluation of Hannah’s jewels. Franklin Smith. This is my sister, Liberty. Shorty told you we’d be by.

Of course he did. Hannah waved her hands vaguely toward the back. I was straightening up a little.

Liberty nearly whimpered. This mess is the neat option?

You’ve met Cindy and Ty. They’re security. We have a few part-time employees, but Shorty and I split the days. Hannah’s superiority dripped from each word. Never know what these kids’ll take to pawn or sell if you leave them in charge. She slipped gracefully behind the counter. But we’re all ready to make whatever changes you like.

Liberty opened her mouth to explain they’d burn the place down to get a fresh start, but Frank’s hand on her shoulder tightened so she bit her lip instead.

We enter every pawn or sale here, take fingerprints, run our daily reports for the police from these computers. Everything we do take in is carefully researched. Hannah motioned at the computers set up behind the counters, a stack of heavy books that had to be guides, and then waved an old-fashioned business card file in the air. "Have a whole bunch of experts to