Croc's Return (Bitten Point, #1)
by Eve Langlais
Description
Welcome to Bitten Point, where the swamp doesn't just keep its secrets, it sometimes eats them.
Take one deadly bite and, bam, a man's life is changed forever, or so Caleb discovers when a loss of control leads to him joining the military and leaving everything behind. Now that he's back, making amends is harder than expected.
His ex-girlfriend, Renny, is not interested in excuses. Caleb might have returned, but her plan is to keep him at arm's length. Only she can't. Her son deserves a chance to get to know his father, but that doesn't mean Renny is letting Caleb back into her heart. Now if only her heart would cooperate.
Things get dangerous when a mysterious being starts stalking the residents of Bitten Point. When the monster threatens his son, Caleb knows it's time to unleash his dark inner beast so he can snap at danger, and take a bite out of life.
Coming home doesn’t always solve things…but it does pave the way for second chances.
Immerse yourself in this series, by New York Times bestselling author, Eve Langlais.
Chapter One
I can’t believe the dog gets the front seat in the truck.
Indeed, the big-eyed canine—who barely consisted of a mouthful at five and a half pounds—that his brother called Princess, held the seat of pride inside the truck while Caleb merited the box at the back.
Forget logic. Caleb had tried to argue at the train station where his brother awaited him, leaning against the blue body of his Ford pickup truck.
“Hey, Connie,” Caleb had said to his bro upon spotting him, which was the first thing he did wrong, closely followed by his second, “Packed on a few pounds while I was gone, I see.”
It wasn’t just women who took offense at weight jokes.
By the time Caleb stated, “Can you get this rat out of the front seat?” things had evolved from awkward to someone was gonna get hurt.
The frost in his brother’s expression would have made a more easily intimidated man shiver.
“That is not a rat. That is a long-haired Chihuahua,” his brother informed him coldly. “And my name, since you seem to have forgotten, is Constantine.”
Caleb might have argued about it a bit more, but given he was trying to make amends with his family—and this particular branch of his family had grown quite a bit since he’d left—he didn’t push the point. He’d wait until later, after a few beers.
Or we could set the tone for how things are gonna go right now. Caleb’s time in the military had given him a boldness that resulted in more than a few scraps—his version of stress relief. “That is not a dog.” A comment that was met with a low grown and a lifted lip from the fresh appetizer in the front seat.
A dog? Snort. More like a snack. The snap of a hungry jaw jarred Caleb, and he pushed back against the dark thought.
No eating Connie’s pet. There were some lines even he wouldn’t cross. Antagonizing his brother wasn’t one of them. “Dude, whatever that funny looking hairball is, it’s in the way.”
“No, she is not. That’s Princess’s spot.” Constantine reached in and stroked the tiny creature.
“Princess?” His level of incredulity rose a few more notches and teetered in the I-must-be hallucinating zone. And yet I didn’t snack on any mushrooms.
“It’s Princess Leia to be exact.”
Bigger snort.
His brother shot him a look before turning back to his rat, crooning, “Ignore him, Princess. He doesn’t understand your cuteness.”
Cute? Had his brother been punched in the face one too many times? “Are you feeling all right?”
“Fine. Why?” His brother shot him a glance while still continuing to pet the hairy rat.
“I have to ask because I don’t understand why a grown man would want to own something that wouldn’t even double as a proper snack.”
“Eat my dog and I will skin you and make you into boots.” Judging by the hard flint in his brother’s eyes, he meant it.
Caleb almost hugged him in thanks. Nice to see some things hadn’t changed, such as their love of bodily-harm threats. Question was, would Constantine follow through?
Caleb should have let the matter go at that point. After all, loving a poor excuse for a dog wasn’t the worse thing his brother could have done during Caleb’s absence—at least he didn’t fuck up like I did—but the fact that Caleb ranked lower than a pet stung. “It’s a dog. Shouldn’t it ride in the back?”
“No. And unless you’d rather walk, I’d suggest you get your ass on board. I’ve got better things to do than hang around here arguing with an a-hole.”
Caleb’s spine straightened, and he faced his brother, unable to hide the flatness in his eyes. “That wasn’t very nice.”
“Neither was what you did.”
That stung, even if it was true. “I had my reasons.”