by Sophie Moss
She wrenched the tool from his hand. “I know you’re not a reporter, Mr. Jones. If that’s even your real name. Which I doubt it is.”
The flames licked at his pant leg and he moved away from the fire, his livid gaze never leaving her face. “Who, exactly, do you think I am?”
Glenna glanced down at the phone and saw that it was starting to melt. “Let’s not play games anymore, okay?”
“I wasn’t the one playing games.” Sam gestured down at his still evident erection.
She flicked a heartless glance at the bulge in his pants. “I did what I had to do.”
“What you had to do?” Sam gritted his teeth and walked over to the wall, leaning his forehead against it, waiting for the pain to pass. “Do you have any idea,” he said with his back to her, “How dangerous what you just did was?”
“I had the situation under control.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I did.”
He turned, his gaze blazing into hers. “I could have been anybody.”
“And I would have done the same thing, to anybody.”
“What if I hadn’t let you up? What were you going to do? Smash the bottle over my head?”
“That was one option.”
“What was the other?” And why did he care?
She pulled the slit of her skirt up. She had a knife. A goddamn knife tucked in the side of her leg. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and turned back to the wall. “I didn’t think this was possible, but you just got ten thousand times sexier.”
Glenna let her skirt drop back into place and walked over to where he was standing. She didn’t even offer him the slightest hint of a smile. “Tell me your real name.”
“It’s Holt,” he said into the wall.
“Sam Holt?
“Yes.” Sam turned back around, slowly. The flames shot dark shadows into the room, flashing over her dress and tousled hair. “How did you know I was lying?”
Glenna searched his whiskey-colored eyes. There was something in them besides anger and confusion. Something… troubling. She didn’t know what she had expected from the man who would be searching for Tara. But she hadn’t expected… this. “I saw you coming.”
“On the ferry?”
“No.” She turned, walking over to the sofa to pick up the pillows strewn over the floor. “Weeks ago.”
Sam narrowed his eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Glenna tossed the pillows onto the sofa. “I see things.”
“Like what…? What kinds of things?”
“Things that other people don’t see.”
Sam regarded her with disbelief. “Like… visions?”
“Yes.” She nodded, meeting his skeptical gaze across the room. “And what about you, Sam? Do you have any extraordinary talents?”
Sam stared at her. “Like what? Are you asking me if I can fly or shoot lasers out of my eyes?”
“No,” Glenna said, shaking her head. “Is there anything you can do better than anyone else? Anything you are extraordinarily good at?”
Sam watched her, her face stone cold in the firelight. “Maybe.”
“What?”
He could hear music drifting down from the village, someone strumming a mandolin in the streets. “I find things.”
“And what did you come here to find, Sam?”
“Maybe I came here to find you.”
Glenna shook her head. “Wrong answer.”
“How do you know?” He pushed off the wall. “How do you know I wasn’t supposed to come to this island and meet you?”
“Because I know why you came to this island. And it wasn’t to meet me.”
Sam walked closer. “How do you know our fates aren’t somehow wrapped up in this legend?”
Glenna shook her head. “You want to have sex with me, Sam. That has nothing to do with fate.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s not our legend.”
Sam lifted a brow. “Whose is it?”
“Someone else’s.”
“Is it the man and woman I saw back at the pub?” Sam asked, crossing the rest of the room to her. “Is it theirs?”
Glenna lifted her chin. “Maybe.”
“Are they together?”
“So what if they are?”
Voices and laughter drifted in through the open window and Sam held her eyes. “Then it… changes things.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Things.” Sam dipped his hands in his pockets and turned, gazing out past the village at the soaring emerald cliffs through the window. He’d promised himself this was his last case. No more shady clients, no more nights spent in seedy hotel rooms chasing after people who should never be found. He had enough money to retire to the Bahamas, buy a sailboat and spend the rest of his life drowning the memories of his pathetic life in an endless supply of dark rum. Why was he suddenly willing to let all that go? “Tell me something, Glenna. What did you see, when you saw me coming?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m trying to figure out if I’m losing my mind or if there’s actually some validity to this whole crazy selkie story.”
Glenna studied the man by her window. His defenses were down and there was a kind of shattered vulnerability to those rugged features now. There was nothing malicious or cruel in his eyes. If anything, he looked tired. And confused. “It’s difficult to explain what I see.”
“Try me.”
“Okay,” Glenna said slowly, following his gaze out to the choppy sapphire sea. “I saw you in a hotel room. Not your face, but a man with your hair color. And your build. It was just a flicker, really. But you bent down to pick up something and came up with a silver earring in the shape of a rose.” She shook her head. “Believe me, I know it sounds crazy. But it’s what I saw. And I knew then that you were coming.”
Sam turned and stared at her. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a single piece of jewelry. “Did it look like this?”
Glenna’s eyes widened when he passed her the earring. She took it, turning it over in her hand.
“I found it in a hotel room in Amsterdam. About two days ago.”
Glenna lifted her eyes to his.
“You asked me if I had any special talents? This is my talent. But it’s not something I’m proud of.” Sam pushed away from the window and started to pace. “You want to know what happened the first time I found something?”
Glenna nodded.
Why? Why was he telling her this? “The first time I found something it was a bag of cocaine in my mother’s sock drawer. I thought it was a bag of sugar. But it must be special sugar if she hid it. So I ate it.”
“You ate it?”
“All of it.”
“What happened?”
“I woke up in the hospital.”
Glenna’s hand closed over the earring. “How old were you?”
“Six.” Sam’s gaze drifted back out the window. “The second time I found something was in high school. My foster mom was driving me to school in my dad’s truck. I really liked her. She was a good mom. Honest. Sweet. Kind-hearted. I had a little sister too—Jessica. She was in the back seat and asked me to look for a CD in the glove compartment.”
He watched a group of tourists zip past the window on rented mountain bikes. “I found a woman’s bra instead. It didn’t belong to our mom.” He lifted a shoulder. “Our parents split up and I slid back into the system.” He turned away from the window. “The third time I found something it was the girlfriend of a fraternity president at the University of Texas. I was bartending at a club in Houston, and she came in with her sorority sisters for a night out. I guess you could say she found me, really. Or found her way into my bed. But either way I woke up the next day in a ditch with a broken jaw and a fractured shin.”
“The boyfriend?”
“And all of his buddies. Twelve against one.” Sam paused in front
of one of Glenna’s paintings, a pale curve of beach bathed in moonlight. “A cop found me on a routine patrol and drove me to the hospital. After I got better, he started coming into the bar and talking with me after my shift. He was a good guy, a good cop. Joe—that was his name—he took me under his wing, straightened me out, convinced me I could be one of the good guys if I wanted to.
“I’d never had anyone tell me I could be good at anything, so I believed him, went to the academy, got my badge and worked my way up to detective. Only problem was my talents didn’t seem to cross over into the law. When it came to finding things that were supposed to be found, I couldn’t find shit. Turned out I only had a knack for finding things that shouldn’t be found.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Glenna asked.
“Because I think I’ve found something again that wasn’t supposed to be found.”
“Then keep it to yourself,” Glenna reasoned, walking over to stand beside him. “Don’t tell anyone.”
“It’s too late for that.”
“Why? How do you know it’s too late?”
“Because Philip already knows. I told him last night.”
Chapter 21
Chief Walsh pushed through the throng of tourists surrounding the pub and strode into the crowded barroom, his gaze zeroing in on the man behind the bar. Two officers backed him up, scanning the faces in the room. Two others ran ahead, pausing only when Dominic met them at the edge of the bar, cutting off their path to the kitchen.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he shouted over the voices bellowing at the football game and clamoring for pints.
Cory strode up to the bar, shoving people aside. “Where is she?”
“Where is who?”
“Where’s the girl, Dom?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t play games with me.”
Dominic’s hand shot out, fisting in Cory’s uniform.
“Get your hands off me,” Cory growled.
“Get your men out of my bar.”
“Padraig!” Cory barked at the officer, his eyes never leaving Dominic’s face. “Check the kitchen.”
Dominic’s fist twisted in Cory’s shirt, yanking him across the bar as the two officers ran past him. “What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be watching the ferry!”
“She’s a criminal, Dominic.”
“She’s innocent!”
Cory jerked back out of his grip. “Evan!” Cory barked at the officer behind him. “Check upstairs.”
In two steps, Dominic was at the foot of the stairs, grabbing the officer and shoving him into the wall. “Do not go up there!”
“Her name isn’t Tara,” Cory shouted, motioning to the officers creeping out of the kitchen to take him down from behind. “Her real name is Sydney Carter. She’s not who you think she is!”
“Get your men out of here!”
The officers lunged, tackling Dominic from behind. Tourists scattered, shouting, when he came up swinging. His fist connected with the first officer’s jaw, sending him barreling backwards into a bar stool.
The other one grabbed Dominic’s arms from behind.
“Dominic!” Cory shouted, pushing his way through the crowd. “What the hell are you doing?”
Dominic wrenched free and shoved the officer into the police chief. Cory stumbled backwards, grabbing the nearest table for support, upending it with a splintering crash as they both tumbled the floor.
***
Kelsey jumped when she heard the crash. “What was that?”
“I don’t know,” Tara said, pushing to her feet. “Stay here.”
Tara opened the door and started down the steps to the pub. When she spotted the officers, she froze. She turned, saw Kelsey watching from the top of the stairs and, shrinking back against the wall, she crept back up the steps and closed her hand over Kelsey’s.
“What’s going on?” Kelsey whispered.
“Shhh.” Tara put her finger to her lips, slipping back into Kelsey’s room and locking the door behind them. “We need to get out of here.”
“Why?”
Tara went to the far window—the one overlooking the alley—and pushed it open. The sharp scent of drying kelp raced into the room and she turned, her eyes landing on the child. “Are you afraid of heights?”
Kelsey nodded, taking a step back.
“I need you to trust me, Kelsey. I know you don’t like me very much right now, but I need you to put aside our differences and trust me.”
“I don’t understand,” Kelsey said, shaking her head and watching Tara warily. “Is everything okay? Is my dad okay?”
“Yes,” Tara nodded. “He’s fine. But I need you to be brave and follow me. Whatever questions you have, I will answer them. All of them. But right now, I need you to be very quiet and follow me out that window.”
Kelsey’s eyes went wide. “What?”
Tara held out her hand and Kelsey shook her head.
“It’s not that far,” Tara whispered. “I promise I won’t let you fall. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”
Footsteps—hard, polished soles echoing over the hardwood—pounded up the staircase. Tara crossed the room to the child. “We need to go now, Kelsey!”
“Where are we going?”
“Away,” Tara whispered, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the window. “Far, far away.”
***
Glenna and Sam shoved through the crowded streets of the village, elbowing their way through the stream of tourists spilling out of the pub. They caught snatches of conversation. A fistfight. Inside the pub. The bartender arrested. Uneasiness settled over the panic already building in Glenna’s chest. They’re searching for a woman. An American. A missing person. She pushed through the broken phrases, prying open the door.
A uniformed officer stepped into her path. “You can’t come in.”
“What’s going on?” Glenna demanded, her eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light.
“The pub’s closed.”
Glenna sucked in a breath when she spotted Dominic, his hands cuffed behind him, two officers pushing him into the kitchen.
“Dominic!” Glenna shouted. “What happened? Where’s Tara?”
Chief Walsh, pacing by the fire, flipped open his cell when it started to ring.
“Sir,” Cory’s assistant said into the phone. “A message just came through and it might have something to do with the woman you called about earlier.”
“What is it?” Cory barked into the phone.
“Philip Carter, also an American from Texas, passed through customs at six this morning. He’s wanted for murder in the United States.”
“What does he look like?” Cory cut in.
“I just sent you a picture.”
Cory ended the call and pulled up the image, staring down at the face of the same man Dominic had warned him about earlier. “Padraig,” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Bring Dominic back out here.”
“Sir?” Padraig stuck his head out of the kitchen.
“Bring him back out,” Cory ordered sharply.
Padraig came back out of the kitchen, leading Dominic by the elbow.
Cory pulled the folded picture Dominic had given him earlier out of his pocket. “You told me you would tell me when, and if, this turned into police business.”
“Uncuff me.”
“Not a chance.”
“Uncuff me.”
Cory shoved the picture at Dominic. “What does this man have to do with your girlfriend?”
“He’s her husband,” Sam said, stepping into the room.
“Who the hell are you?” Cory demanded, taking in the tall, blond American man striding into the room like he had every right to be there.
“I’m the person he hired to find her.”
Dominic’s eyes cut to Sam’s face. Every muscle in his body clenched in cold, hard fury. “Uncuff me!”
“Dom
inic,” Glenna asked, following Sam into the room. “Where is Tara?”
Chief Walsh turned to face her. “That’s what we’d like to know.”
“She’s not here?”
Dominic shook his head, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face.
Sam scanned the room, counting the officers. “Are the rest of your men still stationed at the pier?”
“Excuse me?” Chief Walsh snapped.
“The rest of your men? Are there any left at the pier?”
The chief caught the panicked look on Glenna’s face. “They went after the woman.”
“So there’s no one watching for Philip?”
“No.”
***
Tara threaded her way through the mass of people swarming over the pier. She scanned the boats, searching for Donal’s.
“Are we going on the ferry?” Kelsey asked, running to keep up with her.
“No.”
“Are we going out on a boat?”
“Yes.”
“Who’s boat?”
Donal’s, Tara thought. I hope.
“Are we coming back for the fireworks tonight?”
Tara pulled her past a family and their three dogs. “I don’t think so.”
“Is dad going to come with us?”
“No.”
“Does he know where we’re going?”
“Not yet.” Tara slipped through a hole in the crush of people, pulling Kelsey along. “But he will.”
“Shouldn’t we tell him now? Before we go?”
“As soon as we get there, I’ll call him.” Tara felt a wave of relief rush through her when she spotted Donal’s boat tied to the end of the pier and the keys still dangling in the ignition. “I promise.”
A group of teenagers ran past them, laughing and roughhousing, forcing them apart.
Tara reached for Kelsey’s hand, but another wave of tourists clambered down from the ferry, separating them even further.
“Kelsey!” Tara called out, shouting over the deafening roar of the ferry’s engine.
“Tara?”
Tara searched the growing crowd for Kelsey, fighting against the surge pushing her back toward the edge.
Something sharp and painful cut into her side and she jerked, gasping when cold fingers closed around her wrist. “Going somewhere, Sydney?”