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  Dark Legacy

  The Legacy Series

  Jen Talty

  Jupiter Press

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2021 by Jen Talty All rights reserved.

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  No part of this work may be used, stored, reproduced or transmitted without written permission from the publisher except for brief quotations for review purposes as permitted by law.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy.

  Contents

  DARK LEGACY

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Jen Talty

  Praise for Jen Talty

  "Deadly Secrets is the best of romance and suspense in one hot read!" NYT Bestselling Author Jennifer Probst

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  "A charming setting and a steamy couple heat up the pages in a suspenseful story I couldn't put down!" NY Times and USA today Bestselling Author Donna Grant

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  "Jen Talty's books will grab your attention and pull you into a world of relatable characters, strong personalities, humor, and believable storylines. You'll laugh, you'll cry, and you'll rush to get the next book she releases!" Natalie Ann USA Today Bestselling Author

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  "I positively loved In Two Weeks, and highly recommend it. The writing is wonderful, the story is fantastic, and the characters will keep you coming back for more. I can't wait to get my hands on future installments of the NYS Troopers series." Long and Short Reviews

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  "In Two Weeks hooks the reader from page one. This is a fast paced story where the development of the romance grabs you emotionally and the suspense keeps you sitting on the edge of your chair. Great characters, great writing, and a believable plot that can be a warning to all of us." Desiree Holt, USA Today Bestseller

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  "Dark Water delivers an engaging portrait of wounded hearts as the memorable characters take you on a healing journey of love. A mysterious death brings danger and intrigue into the drama, while sultry passions brew into a believable plot that melts the reader's heart. Jen Talty pens an entertaining romance that grips the heart as the colorful and dangerous story unfolds into a chilling ending." Night Owl Reviews

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  "This is not the typical love story, nor is it the typical mystery. The characters are well rounded and interesting." You Gotta Read Reviews

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  "Murder in Paradise Bay is a fast-paced romantic thriller with plenty of twists and turns to keep you guessing until the end. You won't want to miss this one..." USA Today bestselling author Janice Maynard

  DARK LEGACY

  The Legacy Series book 1

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  USA Today Bestselling Author

  JEN TALTY

  Prologue

  Life without hope was not a life worthy of breath.

  Or so Shannon Brendel’s mother had said. Shannon had never forgotten it, but some days, she wished she’d never heard it.

  Today was one of those days.

  She sat by the bedroom window of her father’s summer home in Lake George, New York. The tall mast of her dad’s pride and joy rattled in the slight breeze. The new Tartan had been the bane of her existence in more ways than one. She’d lost her childhood on that boat.

  And her father had allowed it to happen. Hell, he’d orchestrated the entire thing.

  She contemplated for the millionth time what it would be like if she slipped into the darkness and disappeared. No one would really miss her. Her family didn’t understand the concept of caring for those you were supposed to love. Her friends weren’t really friends—more people she hid behind. If she were to die, her passing would simply be a little blip on the radar, and then everyone’s life would likely go on as if nothing had happened.

  She closed her eyes, letting the darkness fill her mind. She remembered the feeling of being put under anesthesia. It was as if you simply faded to black—total unawareness.

  That is exactly what she wanted.

  That had been the best feeling ever, and she wanted it again, only she didn’t want the waking-up part.

  While she sat there in search of obscurity, she heard her mother’s voice somewhere in the recesses of her mind. It haunted her like a bad song that she couldn’t get out of her head.

  Everything will be better tomorrow, you’ll see. When you wake up, things will be different.

  Lies. It was all lies. But the problem was, part of Shannon wanted to believe her mother’s false truths.

  Shannon blinked, allowing reality to bombared her brain like a pack of wild wolves racing through the woods, hunting their prey. She slid open the window in the bedroom her father allowed her to stay in when the wayward student paid him a visit—which was far too often if you asked her. Being with her father wasn’t any worse than being at her mother’s. Although many, if they knew the truth, would think differently.

  At least her father noticed her existence. She supposed that counted for something.

  The wind was still, and it was a whopping fifty-degrees outside. It wasn’t really cold, but the air was crisp enough to give her chills. Stars filled the night sky, and the moon almost looked bright like the sun as it cast its glow over the sailboat taunting her—almost laughing at her from the water only a few hundred feet away.

  She rubbed her stomach. The memory of the physical pain had slipped away, but the baby’s piercing cry would be forever etched in her memory. Her father hadn’t enforced his visitation rights in months. Now that her little problem was gone and no signs of her existence remained, her father wanted his princess back in his twisted, sick world.

  “I did the right thing,” she whispered.

  Headlights appeared in the distance. Three cars slowly drove past. She wished she had the courage to step out into the night, stick out her thumb, and hitch a ride to a new beginning.

  Everything would be different tomorrow.

  She quickly closed the window. Her shoulder-length, dark-blond hair blew across her face.

  It was nearly midnight, and her wicked stepmonster—though Annette wasn’t really the worst person in the world—and father had long ago gone to bed. Having a teenager in the house was too much for the poor woman, and her father hadn’t been too thrilled with having to entertain a few of the neighbors, so he’d gotten drunk and passed out early.

  Thank God.

  Shannon opened the closet. Her blanket and teddy bear were safe. So was her bottle of mother’s little helpers. Maybe tonight she’d find the courage.

  But what if you wake tomorrow and it’s all different?

  “Damn you, Mother.” She locked her door. She might pay for it with a black eye, but she didn’t want a visitor at three in the morning.

  She climbed into the closet, closed the door, and hugged her teddy. She fiddled with the bottle of pills. She’d hold onto them all night, never taking a single one.

  Wishing she could.
>
  Tomorrow, everything would be different.

  Shannon woke the next morning, forcing herself to believe that the day was filled with promise and hope—even though she knew, deep down, that nothing was different.

  Everything was exactly as it had been yesterday.

  And that stupid damn boat was still docked out in front of her window, reminding her that her life would never be hers.

  She dressed in her favorite jeans and a V-neck shirt. When she went to the kitchen, her stepmonster, Annette, sat at the table, coffee in one hand and a smoke in the other.

  The only reason Shannon had given Annette the nickname was because who in their right mind would willingly marry Dwight Brendel? Sadly, poor Annette had been snowed like so many other women, and now she was stuck in the never-ending insanity with no way out.

  “You don’t smoke. You hate smoking,” Shannon said.

  “Some events in life are worth lighting a cancer stick,” Annette said in her best Southern drawl. A single tear streaked down her cheek.

  “I don’t much like spending the day with my father’s side of the family, either,” Shannon said as she got a diet soda out of the fridge. “Loud group of motherfucking perverts, but it’s only one day, and you never know…we might have fun. It’s certainly not worth crying over.”

  “Don’t swear, dear. I hate it when you swear. It’s not ladylike.”

  Shannon sat down next to the monster and realized the woman hadn’t showered or put on makeup, which was more than odd. It was downright blasphemous. “You look like shit.” Shannon had never seen Annette without her extra-long eyelashes, bright lipstick, and her bleached-blond hair perfectly styled. She was the kind of woman who never left the house without her face on. It took a lot of money to make a woman look that cheap. When Annette had taken up bowling, she bought only the finest equipment. Same went for cross-country skiing. Shannon’s father would get all bent out of shape about the bill and the fact that his wife would neither stay with the activities nor be any good at them. Annette would tilt her head, bat her lashes, and say in the sweetest Southern accent she could muster, “Honey bear, it doesn’t matter if I’m any good. All that matters is if I look good doing it.”

  Shannon watched her stepmother take a long drag off her cigarette. It was weird to watch her smoke. Almost as if she’d woken up in an alternate universe.

  “Have you ever noticed that your father always forgets to turn off the light at the end of the dock?” Annette pointed toward the lakefront.

  Shannon forced her gaze to the forty-foot Tartan moored in front of the house, the words Blew by You displayed proudly on the stern. “He wants everyone to think he’s so clever with the name of his boat.”

  “You’re probably right,” Annette said. “Sugar, there’s a bottle of vodka above the microwave. Would you be a doll and get it for me?”

  “Since when do you drink in the morning?”

  Annette could knock them back with the best of them, but where her father always lived by the rule that it was five o’clock somewhere, Annette preferred the five o’clock in whatever time zone she was in and never broke it.

  Never.

  Shannon did as instructed. When she first met the stepmonster, she’d thought that what Annette wanted, Annette got. However, the more she got to know the woman, she realized hatt she wasn’t as shallow as Shannon had first thought. “You’re kind of freaking me out.”

  “Tragedy will do that to some people.”

  Shannon placed the bottle in front of Annette and then asked, “What kind of tragedy?”

  “Death.”

  “Who died?” Shannon asked. Her heart filled with a combination of sorrow…

  And excitement.

  She held her breath.

  “Your father.”

  Shannon paused. Her mouth dropped open as if to scream. Her stomach bottomed out. She breathed in deeply. Held it. Then exhaled. This couldn’t be happening, could it?

  “Yeah, right. That man will outlive us all. He’s already proven that after having two heart attacks before he hit forty-five.” She reached for the bottle of vodka, poured some into her soda, and then gulped. “Seriously, who died?”

  Annette poured a hefty amount of alcohol into her coffee “Your father. He’s dead. Really dead.” Her body shook. She downed the coffee and then looked directly into Shannon’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” Annette lowered her gaze. “And not just that he’s dead, but for, well…I’m just sorry.”

  Shannon burst out laughing. She knew it wasn’t funny. And she did feel bad. Sort of. Well, she felt bad in a weird way. For Annette.

  “This is not funny. None of it is funny. I loved him. Even when I found...even when I didn’t want to know about it all. I still loved him.”

  Shannon couldn’t stop laughing. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is a defense mechanism.” The more she talked, the less she laughed. She figured she’d better keep talking. “When I was little, my uncle Ned backed over my… my… it doesn’t matter. I laughed when I should have cried.”

  “This is quite different, dear,” Annette said.

  “I know.” The laughter had stopped, but tears had not replaced it. She was sad. At least, she thought she was. She should be filled with grief, but an overwhelming sense of relief made sadness something just out of reach.

  Had tomorrow finally come?

  That thought chilled her to the bone. If he was dead, truly dead, what did that really mean? Her life as she knew it would be different. Not different like moving, but different in an earth-shattering way.

  She had dreamt of what her life might look like if her father weren’t in the picture. But now that her reality might shift, she wasn’t so sure she wanted another twist and turn of the roller coaster.

  “Are you sure he’s dead? He was drunker than a skunk, and you know how that man sleeps like a rock when he’s completely wasted.”

  “He’s always completely wasted.”

  Annette had a point, but Shannon wasn’t satisfied. “How do you know he’s dead? I mean, really dead?”

  Annette glared. “You can go look if you want. He’s in bed. Ambulance should have been here by now. Damn 9-1-1 person wanted me to try to perform CPR, but he’s cold and stiff, and I couldn’t stand to be in that room one second longer with a dead man. God only knows how long I slept next to him that way.”

  That sounded pretty dead. “Shit.”

  The monster started bawling. Silently, no less. Her shoulders bounced up and down, tears pouring out of her eyes, but she hardly made any noise.

  Shannon awkwardly patted the woman on the back. The monster hadn’t ever been particularly affectionate—which was fine with Shannon—but that left her a lack of desire for closeness in her life.

  Sirens blared down the street.

  Her father was dead.

  Gone.

  Finally.

  Shannon sat down and put her arms around Annette. In return, Annette squeezed her so tightly that Shannon started to cry.

  Real tears.

  They weren’t for her father. Not really. She’d honestly wished him dead many times. She doubted she’d miss him but knew her life had just changed fundamentally. She cried harder.

  Once Annette let the police, paramedics, and medical examiner into the house, the two women resumed hugging...and crying. They stayed there, together, arms wrapped around each other through the police questioning, and finally, the medics rolling the covered body through the kitchen.

  “Wait,” Shannon said. “Can I see him?”

  “Honey, you don’t want to do that. Trust me. I will never get that vision out of my head,” Annette said. “It’s better to remember him alive.”

  “No,” Shannon said. “I need to see him.”

  Shannon rose and stood by the gurney. The paramedic slowly and respectfully pulled back the white sheet. Her father’s face had paled. He didn’t look dead, but he didn’t look all that well either, especially with his blue lips. Shannon stared at him.
Waiting. She didn’t know what for, but she couldn’t move or say anything.

  The tears had stopped.

  “Please,” Annette said. “Please, take him away. She’s just a child. She shouldn’t have to see this.”

  The paramedics covered his face and took him away.

  Shannon just stood there. Numb. Scared.

  No. She was terrified.

  As much as she’d dreamed of this day, she wasn’t sure why she was so afraid to begin her new life.

  A life free of suffering.

  Free of her father’s dark legacy.

  She pressed her hand over her stomach.

  And her child would be free, too.

  Chapter One

  Today marked the anniversary of the day Shannon Brendel had been given a second chance at life.

  She tapped her toe to the country song playing through her speaker as she waited for the steaming bitter brew to stop dripping into her mug. Today always brought a combination of excitement, anxiety, and sheer joy. For most of her adult life, she’d done everything she could to shove the memories into a lockbox inside her mind.

  But today, she embraced one small piece of her past.

  So much negativity had come from her childhood. She tried hard to take all that baggage and stuff it under her bed. But the older she got, the harder it became. She needed to know that she’d done one good thing in her darkest hour.