Feeling edgier, Garret challenged, “It’s just a little shower. We could still dive with a little drizzle spitting down on us.”
Jackson gritted his teeth. “If it were drizzle I wouldn’t have mentioned it. And if we’d found anything to prompt a dive, I might agree. But we haven’t. This rainstorm looks like it might hold some punch. You want to rock on this tub in a storm, be my guest. But I’m voting for going in. As claustrophobic as you are, I would, too.”
Walsh overheard the chatter and turned on Garret. “Save your bravado for when we find a target area. Now’s not the time to buck a squall.”
Garret appealed to Mitch for the final ruling. But Mitch deferred to Jackson and his crew chief. “We’ll stay out until those clouds get closer, but as soon as the wind picks up, we’re heading back to port.”
While his sons looked to the sea for answers, down the street within view of the marina, Tanner prepared to carry out his own agenda.
As Tanner stood on the sidewalk looking at the Life Stone Church, he thought back to the first time Lenore had dragged him here. His Sunday mornings were meant for relaxing not for plopping his hardworking butt down on a hard pew in a stifling hot chapel and listening to Boone Dandridge lecture him on how best to live his life. He knew how to live, had done so for all of his adult life without interference from some preacher man.
But over the years that mule-headed attitude of his had morphed into something he looked forward to doing. What started out as an annoyance turned into years of devoted Sundays. He’d done everything he could to make sure the church continued its growth, all the while nurturing his spiritual side, a side he didn’t even know he had. Not only that, he’d found good friends along the way.
Or so he’d thought.
Tanner rubbed the whiskers on his chin. He hadn’t bothered to shave since Livvy went missing. If he had timed this visit right, this time of day, he hoped to catch Boone Dandridge in his office. Unless the preacher had altered his daily routine, Tanner fully expected to see the man huddled at his desk working on his next sermon.
For more than forty-eight hours, Tanner had stewed over Boone’s email. He’d read the message more than twenty times. The idea that Boone’s comments had influenced longtime friends to downplay Livvy’s disappearance turning it into a frivolous trip infuriated him. For two days, he’d been mulling over how best to deal with what he saw as Boone’s betrayal, not just the stabbing in the back aspect, but turning on parishioners. There were kids who attended Sunday school, who’d grown up in the church. If they couldn’t depend on their pastor in a time of crisis then what was the point?
As always at this time of day, the double doors remained unlocked, the auditorium empty. He walked past the rows of pews, down the hall into Boone’s paneled side office. Sure enough, he sat at his desk in shirtsleeves, minus his collar.
It took the preacher a minute to realize he was no longer alone. “Well, what brings you by?”
Before leaving the house, Tanner had printed out the email and slapped the paper down on Boone’s desk. “This is what brings me here. I wanted to ask you man to man what you were thinking when you sent out this outlandish church-wide email suggesting Livvy and Walker took the kids on some whim of a trip without telling anyone? You obviously wrote this garbage the very same day you and your friends stood in my living room spouting the same thing. How could you poison everyone’s mind that Livvy wanted to take off to visit every state in the union? How could you do such a thing? Your assumptions put a huge dent in the turnout we got for the search. Somehow I think that was your plan. What I can’t figure out is why? Why would you deliberately misdirect the search and chip away at the foundation we built with the media, something we consider to be extremely important.”
Tanner waited while Boone adjusted his glasses and stood up. “A search seemed rather silly. After her car was found at the airport, I made a judgment call. It’s clear they took off. I’m sorry you don’t see it that way. But it would be a waste of time for people to keep looking under every rock from here to the beach. The mayor happens to agree with me.”
Tanner showed his teeth, repeated his outrage. “I don’t care who agrees with you. It’s wrong. I’m not sure what your game is, Boone, but when I find out, I’m standing up in front of the congregation and letting everyone know it. Let’s see how long you keep your position here then. What you did to my family, to Livvy and Walker and to those kids is unforgivable. For years, they were regulars in your Sunday school class. Is that the way you treat loyal members of your flock?”
Clearly afraid, Boone’s eyes darted around the room. “That isn’t very Christian of you, Tanner.”
“Right this second, I feel I’m more of a Christian than the man I’m staring at. Looking at you, I’ve discovered I don’t have that much forgiveness inside me.”
Boone attempted to calm the situation. “I understand this is difficult for you.”
“What? What’s difficult, Boone? That I’m unable to accept Livvy took a vacation? It’s ridiculous. I do have one question for you, though. What have you gotten yourself into? What sleazy enterprise has Royce talked you into supporting this time?”
Boone acted insulted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I never kept my support of the golf course a secret. It would bring in a lot of money to the town from tourists who want to add that to their itinerary while they’re down here.”
“I’m not talking about the stupid golf course. If I find out your shady dealings includes hurting Livvy and my grandkids in any way, I’ll enjoy making the drive to Raiford each week to see you behind bars.”
“What?” Appalled, Boone came around the desk. “Now you’re talking just plain crazy. I’d never hurt anyone, let alone Livvy and the children.”
“So you say. We’ll see, won’t we?” Tanner leveled his finger in front of the pastor’s face. “Just don’t start counting the money you think you’ll get quite yet. Sprawling megachurches tend to cost millions. Where do you plan to get that kind of money, Boone? Where? The congregation certainly isn’t that wealthy. So whatever bargain you think you’ve made with the devil, think again.”
Having said what was on his mind, Tanner spun on his heels and headed back outside. He didn’t wait for Boone to make a mad dash to the phone and get in touch with his associates.
Rain had begun to fall, a downpour that soaked the lawns and sent streams of water flowing down the low-lying streets.
Walking back to his truck, he was so filled with rage the raindrops did nothing to cool off his fierce temper. In fact, Tanner Indigo felt dead inside at the betrayal he was sure was personal.
Chapter Seventeen - Fire
By day’s end, the storm had turned into a soft rain. For some reason, the weather put Jackson in a foul mood. At least that was his excuse. Edgy and irritable, he’d snapped at a reporter who’d called wanting a comment about another sighting. This time Livvy and the kids had been spotted in Pensacola. Slamming the phone down in the guy’s ear, he had to admit it wasn’t all due to worry. Sexual frustration played a role in his ill temper.
Not one to sit around the house during the dreary evening, it was Garret’s idea to fix his brother’s state of mind. “I say we call Tessa, Raine, and Anniston, and get the women on board for an evening out, meet up for drinks or something. Take a break and try to recharge.”
Jackson thought that sounded like a plan. “I’ll call Tessa.”
Mitch shook his head. “Someone other than me will have to let Raine know. If I do it, I doubt she’ll even pick up.”
“That’s okay. Leave it to me. I’ll take care of it,” Garret offered.
Raine was a tough sell. But with Tessa and Anniston on his side, Garret was able to get all parties to agree to show up at a pub called A Lime in the Coconut. The bar offered happy hour specials, half price appetizers, and live music, just the atmosphere they needed for a breather.
Even though she’d agreed to go, after getting dressed and styling her ha
ir, Tessa ended up the reluctant one. “I’m just not sure about this. It seems wrong to—”
“Enjoy yourself? Have fun for three hours?” Anniston finished. “Tessa, you deserve a night out. We all do. It won’t make a bit of difference in the long run if you listen to some music and do your best to spend a few hours kicking back.”
“She’s right. It’s one night,” Raine concluded. “You’ve been keyed up for weeks. It’s time to let your hair down and relax.”
So after nudging her out the door Tessa was dismayed when they reached the bar. There on one of the streetlamps were the remains of two missing posters—one for the Buchanans and one for Ryan. The paper had been taped to the metal, but the wind had ripped the fringes to a frayed edge and the rain had ruined most of the images.
As her friends pushed through the door, Tessa decided the flyers would have to be replaced. The sight was enough of a reminder that it took almost all the rum in the first hurricane drink she ordered before the buzz set in.
Once the alcohol rushed through her system, it felt good to be out doing something so normal. Having drinks with these new friends was like a nice boost, an extra bonus, a reward for all the anxiety she’d experienced.
The men had already gathered around a table as far away from the band as they could get. But it was impossible to escape the walls reverberating with the beat. Any attempt at conversation had to be either a shout over the noise, or a must-whisper, right next to the other person’s ear.
Since the place was packed, three-deep at the bar and every table taken, the noise was deafening. Mitch had given most of his crew, except the one stuck pulling guard duty, a night off. He and Walsh were taking turns buying drinks—the bunch determined to blow off a little steam.
With that in mind, Raine had promised to practice a détente of sorts with her old flame. As long as Mitch agreed not to say anything to piss her off, she planned to have a perfectly lovely evening.
Mitch on the other hand had no intentions of walking on eggshells. To prove it, he came back to the table just to see if he could get a rise out of her. He pointed to an arcade game near the restrooms. “Remember Alien Starfighter? As I recall I beat you nine straight times one Saturday afternoon at Mac Perkell’s game center.”
“That’s not how I remember it. The Plagar warriors ate you alive. I’m the one who fought hard to get myself back to the ship in deep space and out of the clutches of the enemy.”
In the background Jackson heard the good-natured clash from the past ramp up. But in truth, he had eyes only for the vision sitting across from him. Tessa. She’d worn a festive fluted skirt with a bright floral print that revealed long, feminine legs and a lacy voile tank in soft cream that showed off lean, toned arms. He stared at her sandals and the bare toes tipped with pale blue nail polish.
Tessa glanced over at Jackson, caught those deep toffee eyes staring at her. Her belly warmed. She was pretty sure it wasn’t from the spiced rum. “What are you thinking?”
In a measured move, he picked up his pint of dark ale, never letting his eyes off hers. “That’s a loaded question. I’m not sure you want to know.”
She could’ve easily guessed by the feral look in his eyes. “Hmm, the question is what do we plan to do about all this extra heat between us?”
“That’s why you don’t want to know.”
“Maybe I do.”
The flirting had him leaning in to whisper in her ear. “Want to know what’s on my mind? We need a bed and an evening to ourselves. How’s that for honesty?”
“My thoughts exactly. How long are we required to put in an appearance tonight?”
“Long enough so that when the place starts rockin’ we’ll be able to sneak out of here without anyone missing us. Want another one of those girlie drinks?”
She held up her souvenir glass with the bar’s logo. “This? It’s yummy. And the pineapple has to be good for you, right? But I’ll pass on having a second one. I’d like to be fully functional when we…”
“Hit the sheets?” He grinned. “I’m all for fully functional.”
A pre-wedding party wandered in from the mainland and crammed into what little space there was left. At the bride-to-be’s request the band started their set with a version of Into the Mystic.
“I always liked this song,” Jackson said, capturing her hand and leading her out to the overcrowded dance floor. Their bodies bumped, close contact the only option.
She linked her arms around his neck, breathed in his scent, a fragrance that reminded her of verdant forests full of sandalwood and cedar. It made her want to nibble him all over.
They circled and swayed, wrapped around each other, only a breath apart. His hands wandered to her hips. Hers roamed up his back.
The band changed tunes. The lead singer took a stab at the haunting, soulful melody Peeling off the Layers.
She let him nibble her ear, her neck, her lips. He felt her relax and knew the minute she surrendered to the moment and the music. Her soft, sweet mouth encouraged him to plunder and take.
All Tessa remembered was floating on the promise of what was to come. Caught up, they drifted without ever moving from their little corner of the dance floor. It would’ve been nice if they’d had the place all to themselves. But that only happened in fairy tales. She closed off the others and pretended they were the only two people in the world. She’d never leaned toward fantasy. But if this happened to be as close as she ever got, she’d take her Cinderella moment in a dive bar in the arms of this man any day.
The tender theme went off course to a faster beat as Give it Away pounded from the stage. The floor full of dancers erupted in a flash mob frenzy. Bodies moved in rhythm, grinding and spinning, thrusting to the beat. When the song drifted into Nothin’ But a Good Time, the wild throng switched to a chain of down and dirty, flaying arms and fast feet.
The rock atmosphere, humid as a sauna, became unbearably close, the air hot and stale.
Jackson finally gave up bumping elbows with the horde and snatched her hand. He dragged her outside to an overhang that protected them from the drizzle still spitting out of the clouds. Breathing in the cooler air helped him get over the stuffy confines of the bar. But when he turned to catch how flushed Tessa’s face looked, how the streetlight made her eyes dance, he decided the wait had to be over. It was time to act, no more coming up with excuses. The next words out of her mouth told him she felt the same way.
“Where do you suggest we go?”
“I know a place,” Jackson stated as lightning sliced across the night sky, just before the crack of thunder rumbled overhead.
“Is it far?”
“It’s down the street.”
“You’re kidding? Not that I’m picky at this point but I hope you aren’t suggesting we do this at Raine’s house.”
“There’s an idea, but no. I’ll go get the truck.”
She stuck her hand out from underneath the canopy, palm up. “It’s barely coming down. We could walk if it’s nearby. I don’t mind the mist.”
He cupped her face. “That just makes me want to be with you all the more.” He took her by the hand and dragged her around the corner and down Waterfront Street until he stopped in front of a beachfront bungalow with a for sale sign in the yard.
Though the house was painted seashell-white, Tessa noted someone must’ve been fond of the color red. The shutters and front door were bright crimson. And it had a Spanish-tiled roof. She would’ve described it as looking a lot like a dollop of whipped cream with a cherry on top. The spindled, hand carved balustrades gave it a rural touch. But if Spanish Colonial architecture and farmhouse rustic ever came together to have a baby, it would’ve been this house. Somehow old world artisan had ended up in the middle of a seaside postcard.
She studied the flowerbeds and decided someone had been watering the honeysuckle and taking care of the cheerful gerbera daisies and purple periwinkles. “Whose house is this?”
Jackson stepped up on the wide covered
porch and bent down to reach the mat, brought out the front door key. “This place belonged to my grandmother. My dad decided to put it on the market after she died last spring. But I don’t think he has any intentions of letting it leave the family. He’s turned down several offers.”
Tessa stared at the porch swing and decided this was the most perfect little house she’d ever seen.
Jackson flipped on the lights to reveal a total remodel. “It’s tiny, less than eight hundred square feet.” He cocked a brow. “But it’s fully furnished which means it has a bed. Are we still doing this?”
She latched on to a handful of his shirt, pulled his mouth a breath from hers. “What do you think?”
“I like a woman who knows what she wants.”
Eager mouths sought each other. Her fingers explored his hard body and reached to find the skin under his shirt. She used her teeth to nip along his throat, her tongue to trace a trail down his chest.
“You keep doing that and I won’t last another minute.” He turned the tables, shoving his hands roughly under her top. He nipped his way along her throat and downward, found the shape and feel of her breasts as intoxicating as the booze had been at the bar. His fingers wandered down to frame her ass. As they latched onto each other, he picked her up and hauled her down the hallway.
He plopped her on her feet when they reached the first doorway and shoved into the room, banging the door back against the wall. They stumbled inside, toeing off shoes, fumbling with buttons, clawing at each other’s clothes.
She tore at his shirt, ripped the zipper down on his jeans. “This was a really good idea.”
The Indigo Brothers Trilogy Boxed Set Page 21