Triangle: Venus & Mars, #1

By blaine kistler

Can a love be so powerful that it spans time?

Annie McIntyre grew up a tomboy, headstrong and reckless. Her best friend and neighbor, Joel Kinkaid, has loved her since they were children, and has bailed her out of trouble more than once. Now Annie's past mistakes are about to catch up with her, and maybe Joel can't save her this time.

When billionaire Ben Gallagher returns to their hometown, Annie falls for his dazzling lifestyle. Ben is a man who never loses, and sets his sights on Annie. Desperate and drawn to his Sioux heritage, Joel undertakes a spirit walk, hoping it will show him the path to Annie's heart. In a trance state, he experiences visions of past lives, but a veil is drawn over the future. Annie is haunted by erotic dreams, but the lover in her dreams is faceless.

When Joel orders Annie to drop Ben, a willful Annie accepts Ben's marriage proposal. With the wedding date set, Joel wishes Annie luck in the life she has chosen, kisses her senseless and walks away.

Annie's phantom lover now has a face.

Always sure of her decisions, doubts cloud Annie's mind; Her confusion reaches flashpoint, when her ex-husband kidnaps her and traps her in an underground vault. With oxygen and time running out, Annie regrets her past mistakes and must search her wild heart for answers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: blaine kistler
• Release date: Nov 24, 2018
• ISBN: 9780999367643

Book preview

Prologue

It had been Joel who hung the nickname Trouble on Annabel when she was eight years old. In her early years, Annabel and her mother had lived with her grandparents above their family café. But as soon as her mother had been able to save enough, the two of them moved into the clapboard bungalow on Maple Lane.

The first afternoon at her new house, Annie sneaked away from the unpacking chores her mom had assigned her to explore. Between their yard and the one next door there was an ancient mulberry tree, perfect for climbing. Behind the dilapidated back fence, tangled growth led to a thicket of trees, and she could hear a creek gurgling in the distance. It smelled like damp earth and cut grass instead of grilling burgers and French-fried onions.

It was heaven.

Eager to explore, Annie circled the scrub grass that served as their new backyard. Plenty of room for baseball game, when she got acquainted with the neighborhood kids. Gramps was going to teach her how to use the riding mower as soon as she had her ninth birthday. She arrived back at the mulberry tree, intrigued by the ripening fruit, and grabbed a handful. Soon her fingers and mouth were purple. Imagine being able to pick fruit from your own backyard. How amazing was that!

Again she surveyed her kingdom, overwhelmed by the possibilities. Her mom wanted to plant a vegetable garden by the fence, which Annie wasn’t real happy about. Didn’t a garden mean lots of hoeing and weed pulling? That might put a cramp on her and Gramp’s fishing days. Annie wasn’t enthused about vegetables anyway, especially lima beans and squash.

She saw the boy then. He was crawling through the underbrush between the two houses, dragging a toy rifle. He was wearing torn jeans, ratty sneakers and a tie-dye shirt. His army-green cap was crammed onto an unruly head of hair that needed cutting.

Her own jeans and blue camp shirt were pressed. Her sneakers were immaculate white, her copper hair was pulled back in a neat ponytail. The last thing her mother had said to her was Stay clean, Annie. I’ve got too much to do to hunt you up clean clothes. I’m not even sure where I packed them.

The boy swung up on his haunches and raised his rifle. His face and arms had been smeared with charcoal.

"Freeze, pilgrim, he ordered, his voice full of menace. Don’t even think about it. I’m all over you like a blanket."

Okay. Who am I? Annie inquired with interest, raising her arms, perfectly willing to enter the game.

He lowered his rifle. The enemy, of course. I’m a Sioux warrior and a Green Beret, so you better not mess with me.

Neat. She dropped her arms. What now?

He swiped at his nose, smearing the charcoal even further. I’m not sure. Maybe I should shoot you before you discover my hideout.

I’ve got a candy bar.

Yeah? The rifle went up again and the menace returned to his voice. Give it to me. I’ve been in the jungle for two days without rations. Hand it over.

Come and get it.

He threw down the rifle and made a diving tackle. She dodged, and as soon as he was down, jumped on his back. He howled in disbelief when she got a chokehold on his throat. Annie didn’t figure being a girl meant she couldn’t win out in a brawl. They rolled in the dirt, fists flying. He connected with her jaw, slamming her tongue between her teeth. She yelled out a word that would have caused her mother to wash her mouth out with soap, and punched back, right in the soft part of his gut.

Ooof. The air went out of him and a lot of the fight.

Give, she shouted, straddling his back, pushing his face in the dirt and yanking at his hair, hair that was thick and black and coarse and provided her fingers with a punishing grip.

All right, he moaned. Get off me. Damn, you must weigh a hunnerd pounds.

You started it, she announced smugly, letting go. They rolled apart, panting, grinning at each other. Annie had found it a satisfying fight, and a lot of fun. Living above a café for the first eight years of her life hadn’t provided many opportunities for mixing it up with neighbor kids.

He realigned his cap and grinned. What’s yer name, pilgrim?

Annie. Annie Trumble-McIntyre.

Ha! Annie Trouble McIntyre, I’d call you. I’m Joel Kincaid. You fight pretty good for a girl. You can see my hideout if you loogie swear not to tell.

She considered. Loogie swearing was disgusting, but the temptation was great. Finally, she hawked and spit in her left palm and smacked with her right fist. Loogie sworn, she agreed.

He dug in his pocket and produced a blackened stub of wood. You gotta disguise yourself, just in case the enemy is around.

This was getting better and better. She rubbed the charcoal on her face and arms. Okay?

Yeah, he grunted. Remember, this is dangerous. Follow me, Trouble McIntyre. He flopped on his stomach, retrieved his toy rifle, and began inching through the underbrush, heading for the nearby woods.

Her stomach fluttered with delight. You never got to do this kind of stuff living over a café. Crouching, he leapt over a narrow creek and she followed, stumbling forward as her sneakers dug into mud. She shrieked, and lifted a muddy foot.

My mom’ll kill me!

Shhh! he hissed. No sounds until we get to the hideout. Turn back if you can’t take it, McIntyre.

She doubled her fist. I can take whatever you can, Joel know-it-all Kincaid.

Yeah? He flashed a smirking grin. We’ll see.

It went from bad to worse after that, as he took her on a twenty-minute roundabout route. They crawled past brambles and under fallen trees, through dry creek beds and abandoned sewer pipes. Her hair was soon tangled with leaves and her face scratched by whipping branches. He was as speedy as a goat, but she set her jaw and kept up, only making a slight moaning sound as they tramped over a trail of animal droppings.

Shhh, he hissed again, holding up his palm. We’re here.

He disappeared under a tangle of vines and she crawled in after him, heart pounding and stomach fluttering.

Ohh, she breathed. They were inside a green tent. Sometime in a long-ago storm, two trees had split and toppled crosswise. Vines and other vegetation had grown over the branches, producing a hidden shelter.

Pretty great, huh? He puffed up at her appreciation, setting down his rifle and sprawling on the mossy ground. Where’s that candy bar?

She pulled the Snickers bar from her pocket and broke it in half. You get to choose.

He took the bigger half, which she’d expected, and crammed it into his mouth. It was fun to savor each bite while he glared, his share of the treat gone south.

She licked her fingers, now chocolatey as well as purple. Who else knows about this place?

My brother, Davey, but he can’t find it by himself.

Really?

Naw, he’s just a baby. I got something else to show you.

He reached under the fallen tree trunk and produced a plastic grocery sack. She took it hesitantly, and jumped at the touch of his fingers, dropping the sack.

He snorted at her clumsiness, picking it up to dig into the lumpy contents, and held out a flat black rock with a chipped, pointed edge. Instantly, she knew it was an arrowhead. He laid it in her hand and she felt the warmth of his skin again through the cool flint.

Ohh, she gasped, stroking the polished surface. My Gramps has one. He says it’s a piece of Kansas history. Where did you find it?

He jerked his hand away and shrugged, making it no big deal. Along the river. I’ve got more. You can keep that one.

He dumped out the rest of the bag, displaying its contents. She saw that he had given her the best one.

Thanks, she whispered, curling her fingers around the treasure. I have to go back. My mom will freak out if she can’t find me.

Yeah, mine too.

Avoiding her eyes, he replaced the flints into the bag, and returned it to its hiding place. He took the direct route to her house, and they were at her fence within five minutes. Annie felt awkward about saying goodbye. And surprisingly reluctant. He was the most interesting kid she’d ever met.

Well, see ya’, Trouble McIntyre. He shifted his feet, tucking his toy rifle under his arm, and struck off for the hedge that separated their houses.

Joel! she called after him. She hesitated, cheeks flaming, as he turned around. Thanks.

Yeah, he grinned, giving her a thumbs up.

Her mother nearly fainted when Annie appeared with her clothes filthy and face smeared with chocolate, mulberry juice and charcoal, her hair matted with grass and mud. Despite the two-day grounding that followed, Annie figured it was worth it.

Chapter One

Twenty years later

The Old Town Café was hopping, not an empty table to be seen. In her role as hostess, Annie scanned the café for openings as customers continued to arrive. A lot of heads turned when the front door slammed and Joel Kincaid entered. The stares weren’t unfriendly, but Blue River locals took an interest in each other, and the Kincaid brothers had provided them with a lot of lively gossip in the past. It was the usual Saturday night crowd, raucous and good-humored.

Annie hurried to the front to greet him. He was wearing a tan sport coat over a black tee shirt and black trousers instead of his usual jeans, and his thick hair was tied back with a leather cord. Formal wear for Joel, and he didn’t look happy. Annie knew his ‘Don’t mess with me’ streak, and it was with him tonight.

Hey, Joel. What’s the occasion?

Hi, Annie. Got a table? There’ll be two of us.

She tilted her head back in mock surprise. You have a date?

From time to time.

I thought you were finding sex in cyberspace. She loved to tease Joel.

Virtual reality only goes so far, Squirt. Behave yourself. While you’re finding a table, I’ll say hello to Liz.

He tugged at her hair in warning and headed for the bar, wrapping her mom’s small frame in a hug. Liz hugged back because Joel was among her mother’s favorite people.

Annie went to pick up her next order, craning over the counter to locate the café’s chief cook. Hector, where’re my cherry cobblers for table four?

Hector poked his face around the corner. We’re out, Annie. And we’re down to two pieces of chocolate cake.

Heck, could you have told me fifteen minutes ago? I’ll take the cake instead of the cobbler. Maybe they’d settle for ice cream. We still have some?

Plenty of vanilla in the freezer. And chocolate sauce. That’s all for the dessert menu tonight.

Better than nothing, I guess. Where’s that cake?

You gotta learn patience, Annie.

He slid two pieces of the confection across the counter. It was three inches high with a fudge frosting to die for.

Ahh, the Schenkels were leaving, which meant a table had opened up. The bell on the door jangled again, and she glanced toward the entering customer. He looked to be searching for someone then waved at Joel.

Whoa. Surely that wasn’t Joel’s date.

Eyes widening, Elmira Schenkel turned back and whispered, Annabel, isn’t that Ben Gallagher?

Blue River’s his hometown, Mrs. Schenkel, Annie replied, as she studied the tall man who had entered her family’s café, wondering if he would remember her. She’d had a major crush on Ben Gallagher when she was a kid, but Ben had favored perky blondes.

Elmira shook her head. Well, I swear. I don’t think he’s been back since his Aunt Jessie died. He flew in on his private jet and left right after the funeral. I don’t care how big the man is, there’s such a thing as respect!

I’m sure Ben felt bad about his aunt, Mrs. Schenkel. I wonder what he’s doing back in town. Nobody’s died that I know of.

I’ll go say hello. Elmira nodded. Who would have thought. One of my rascally third-graders, gotten so famous; it’s a pure wonder. Muttering to herself, her husband trailing behind, she trotted over to greet her former student.

It was Ben, no doubt about it. Annie hadn’t seen him for years, but there was no mistaking those smoky gray eyes. His hair had darkened to ash brown, his lanky body had filled out in a way to make a female drool, but it was Ben. If she’d had any doubt, it evaporated when he glanced sideways and profiled the prominent nose, once bashed by her own ten-year-old fist.

Back to her double duties as hostess and waitress, Annie glanced down at her simple blouse and skirt, wishing she’d worn something more glamorous. It was the perfect outfit for work, but not something to impress a man who had built one of the most innovative software companies in the country before he’d hit thirty. She took a deep breath and approached smiling.

Hello, Ben. It’s been a while. Would you like a table?

He looked down at her and returned the smile, glancing at her nametag. Annie McIntyre. Do I know you?

She couldn’t help it. Her tongue had a mind of its own. I’m Trouble.

His eyebrows quirked up. The smile became a chuckle. I don’t doubt it, Annie McIntyre.

No, what I meant was I’m Trouble McIntyre. From Central Park Elementary? The parking lot, fists flying?

This wasn’t going well. Why on earth had she brought up that old nickname? She’d always hated it—when she wasn’t living up to it.

The gray eyes darkened, strong fingers rubbed the nose, the famous nose that had recently graced the cover of Fortune magazine. Damn, you’re the grown-up Trouble McIntyre! You’re not going to slug me? I promise to behave.

The surprise showed in his face. He probably remembered her as the skinniest girl in school, all elbows and bony knees with a mop of red hair, a galaxy of freckles and a fiery temper. She’d been a real tomboy, and had nearly broken his nose during a fourth-grade brouhaha. He’d pulled her ponytail one too many times.

Well, the freckles had faded and she had her temper under control. She had Joel to thank for the nickname, which had stuck with her all through grade school. Once they’d entered high school he’d shot up to six feet and taken to calling her Squirt.

She flushed, as Ben stared.

Tell you what. As an apology, dinner’s on me. I’ve had a table open up. She turned, expecting him to follow, and bumped into an immovable object.

Playing favorites, Annie? growled a male voice, as Joel grasped her elbow. You always insist I pay and make me wait at the bar.

Some things never change, Annie thought, as she stood between the two men grinning at each other. Years later and she still depended on Joel to get her out of tight spots. She still wondered what it would be like to kiss Ben Gallagher. And both men were pawing the ground at the sight of each other, like two challenging bulls in a pasture full of heifers.

Annie swallowed. Joel, do you remember Ben? He’s gotten himself famous since he moved away.

Yeah. Joel’s mouth stretched into the slow-moving grin that meant he was about to go for the jugular. Ben and I have some private business, Annie. We’ll take that table. That is if you’re prepared to body block the couple headed this way.

Uh-oh. She gnawed her lip. It’s Teddy and Irene Rasmussen and their two obnoxious kids. They were here first and Ben being the local celebrity won’t mean a nickel to her.

I think we can take her, buddy, Ben said absently, scratching his head. Annie, last time I saw this place it was half this size. Do you still serve the best steaks in the Midwest?

People drive from Kansas City to eat here. Gramps got a liquor license ten years ago, and all this has happened since.

Good for him. How about that far corner table where the people are leaving?

You’ve got it. She swept up two menus. I’ll seat you and clear it later.

She’d had no idea that Ben and Joel had kept in touch. When she got Joel cornered, she intended to quiz him for keeping a secret like that. Private business, ha!

Two hours later the café was quiet, most of the customers having departed. In the past, this was when she and Gramps would be planning a predawn fishing expedition. Crispy fried catfish caught that morning—now that was a Sunday breakfast. They didn’t do it anymore. Now Gramps bought catfish from the wholesaler, filleted and wrapped hygienically in plastic. It wasn’t nearly the fun and didn’t taste half as good. She made one last sweep of the room with the coffeepot. The café closed at eleven.

The two men were still at the back table, heads together. The table was littered with the remnants of dinner, and Ben had pushed the dishes aside to spread out some papers. He was doing the talking and Joel was nodding and listening. They quit their conversation when she approached their table.

No, thanks, Joel responded to her coffee offer. Ben and I are done here.

He winked at her and she gave thought to dumping the pot of brew in his lap. He knew her curiosity was killing her.

Ben?

Nope. Great coffee, though, and that was the best steak I’ve ever put in my mouth, Annie. Would Ollie reveal his source? I’d like to take a freezer full back to Seattle.

Talk to him. You couldn’t buy directly from our wholesaler, but he might broker you a deal.

I’ll do that. I need to complement him on his grillwork. Come along, Joel?

Don’t think so. Ollie knows I appreciate his skills.

What he didn’t say, and what Annie knew, was that Joel and her grandfather didn’t like each other. Why, she hadn’t a clue. Neither man would discuss it with her. She watched Ben disappear through the swinging doors into the kitchen. Her grandfather would be tickled, and would probably wheedle a stock tip out of the steak transaction.

Joel Kincaid, if you don’t talk, I’m going to slice and dice you like an onion.

What do you want to know?

He pulled the innocent look that made her crazy. She tapped her foot, considering the hot coffee treatment again.

For starters, how did you hook up with Ben?

He called me. He wants to rehire me for a project his company is launching.

Rehire you? When did you work for Bellwether? She swung the coffeepot. Talk faster, Kincaid.

Annie, how long were you married to Studly Johnson?

Almost four years. Give or take a millennium.

Do you think the world stopped, that I didn’t have a life while you were knocking around the South, trailing third and fourth bush leagues with Johnson? I worked in the research and development division of Bellwether after I finished grad work.

Rod wouldn’t let me—

She halted, not able to voice how bad things had been. How Rod had taken over her life, and how he’d insisted she drop her friendship with Joel. He’d discouraged any contact with her childhood friends, and even with her family.

I—I sort of lost track of the world.

His belligerence softened. Yeah, I have a good idea of what your life with Johnson was like. You should’ve left the bastard years ago, and I should’ve stopped you from marrying him. I still kick myself for that.

He retrieved the coffeepot from her and set it on the table out of her reach.

She grinned. I wouldn’t have done it.

Squirt, you’ve been known to act first and think later. Hot coffee in my lap isn’t something I care to risk.

We have insurance.

Yeah, right. And you’re talking priceless here.

She laughed and began stacking the dirty dishes. I had no idea you worked for Ben’s company. We haven’t had a chance to talk for a while. How about a Sunday brunch date?

We might have to include Ben.

She paused amidst her chore. He’s staying?

He’s booked at the Quality Inn. He has business here.

What business?

That’s all I can say. Try cozying up to Ben.

I might enjoy that. Think I’d have a chance?

A chance to get skewered. Ben is fond of women and he likes variety.

We’re going to have a fight, aren’t we?

Go panting after Gallagher, you can bet on it.

Do I tell you who to go out with?

Annie, your taste in men is rotten. And keep your hands off that coffeepot.

What do you mean? Rod was a huge mistake, yes, but I learned from it. Any more I’m real careful.

Joel had a point. She’d made bad choices in the past, and the years she’d spent with Rod Johnson had left nightmares that haunted her. There were a dozen Johnson families in town. Everyone said there were good Johnsons and bad Johnsons, and Rod had been one of the bad ones. It had taken Annie years to come to terms with that.

What about Scott Gustafson? he reminded her caustically. He’s after one thing, and we both know what it is.

Well, he hasn’t gotten it yet.

So he said.

You are too much! You talked to Scott?

Guys will do that. He was at the Y this afternoon, working his frustrations out on the punching bag. We had a discussion.

He didn’t mention that he’d listened to Scott’s complaints about the lack of Annie putting out and had switched the subject, describing in detail a ritual torture that Sioux warriors had once used on any randy male that played with their women. Fascinated with the heritage that his Sioux grandmother had left him, Joel had spent a lot of time on research. Gustafson was a bit thick, but he’d gotten the message. Mess with Annabel McIntyre, and you’re in for trouble with Joel Kincaid.

I can’t believe you! Will you stay out of my life!

Before Johnson there was that dork from KU, the one who wore a nose ring and spouted bad poetry. The one who threatened to post nude pictures of you on the Internet after you dumped him? The same guy who came on to me when I went to retrieve the photos.

You are ticking me off. Hands on her hips, she stuck her nose within inches of his chin. That last part is not true.

Yeah? He folded his arms, flashing a grin, not backing up an inch.

"Careful, Kincaid, she has a mean right