Free Infamous: (A Bad Boy Romantic Suspense) by Mila Noir Page A

corruption. There were crimes of passion and crimes of just plain calculated evil. On balance, it wasn’t as though Sweethollow was worse than anywhere else. It just wasn’t any better.
    There were a lot of undercurrents of tension in town, especially at this time of year. The festival involved nearly every business, with everyone trying to make at least a year’s worth of profit over a month. This often required certain kinds of deals and a degree of “looking the other way.”
    And it all hinged on this strange, old-fashioned tale about a ghostly Rider and its grisly tendencies. Spinning that into something family friendly had been quite an accomplishment. Especially with people actually turning up dead this year.
    The legend had a kind of hold over the town, which relied on the tale to thrive. But it was a tenuous relationship. As long as the Rider stayed just a story, it was appealing in a safely spooky sort of way that attracted city folks sick of the grime and looking for a little “country” homespun quaintness without the actual country. Sweethollow had worked hard to maintain this balance, even though people in town were just as modern and cynical as anywhere else. It just needed to look like Sweethollow was a kind of throwback to a “better,” simpler time. That’s what people paid for and that’s what they got.
    The festival had been the main contributor to Sweethollow’s major source of financial solvency for decades now, especially the last ten 10 years. There’d been some kind of resurgence in traveling for “nostalgia” purposes , and while the town couldn’t compete with Christmas in New England or fall Apple Picking, they were a big draw for All Hallows’ Eve.
    This year the town had a major show planned. They’d amped up the haunted trail and ride, commissioning real special effects artists from the city and some actors from the county playhouse. There were now four haunted houses in town, a pumpkin-carving contest and display, a tame hayride and a much-less-tame one with a Rider that followed the cart, a dance party on Halloween itself, and a reenactment of the legend that played all weekend, culminating in a surprise “Run of the Rider” through the final Halloween show. And the local ale flowed freely and cheaply at all of them.
    Many locals actually dreaded this time of year, just because of the influx of loud tourists. Many of the older residents didn’t think it such a great idea to make the Rider into a commercial figure. Did they believe the Rider was real? Hard to say, but superstitions ran deep in Sweethollow. With good reason.
    The recent murders had put a dent in the local festivities, but only long enough for those in the know to sweep away the evidence, spin it as a terribly tragic accident, and quickly move on. Just like they had before and would again if any more deaths occurred. It was, in a way, a tradition just like the legend and the festival. Even those who suspected something was very wrong kept quiet.
    The older the resident, the stronger the superstition, mostly because those who had been around long enough knew that something about the story of the Rider matched up far too coincidentally with too many deaths. Even if it wasn’t the cause, the correlation was there. For some, it was almost charming in a morbid way; for others, haunting. Very few families that stayed in Sweethollow went untouched by the odd tragedies that surrounded the Rider. But few ever acknowledged it beyond whispers and stories passed down from generation to generation like an old heirloom. Instead of old lace or an armoire, this legacy was death and disaster. But what family isn’t touched by tragedy? That’s what they told themselves, and it mostly worked.
    Taylor’s family had been in Sweethollow only since her grams, yet her parents’ deaths had occurred at this time of year. Anton’s family had been in town far longer, and his grandfather had died in that spectacularly gruesome way.