She wouldn’t bother writing Lance a note. The engagement ring and butterfly bracelet abandoned on top of the toilet seat should tell him all he needed to know.
CHAPTER TWO
Jake
Ft. Lauderdale, Florida
Jake Hunter rested his elbows on the balcony railing of his hotel room in Fort Lauderdale. The sun rose over the Atlantic, and the low-angled rays bounced off capping waves. His escape route stretched out in front of him as far as the eye could see.
His phone vibrated in his front pocket, and he sighed. Dropping the gadget into the pool below might improve his mood.
“Dude, where are you?” Jake’s cousin, older by two years, yelled, making him chuckle. No matter how many times he told Kendra she didn’t have to speak loud on the phone, she just couldn’t help herself.
“I’m eighteen floors up, staring at the horizon.” Jake glanced at his watch. Three hours earlier in her time zone meant she should still be in bed. “What are you doing awake?”
“Night shift. Still at work. I just finished paperwork on a B&E. You left town?”
“I did.”
“You didn’t stop by,” Kendra said.
“I did that a couple of days ago. How’s my cat?”
“Annoying.”
Jake lowered himself onto the deck chair and propped his feet on the railing.
“Is there a reason for your call?”
“Not really, but…no matter where you go, you won’t forget. You know that, right?”
“So now you’re a psychiatrist? I need a change. That’s all.” He’d quit his job in Whistler, donated his clothes, sold his car and house, and given his cat to his cousin. He’d brought nothing with him from his past life and wished he could have left his memories behind, too. Unfortunately, those had followed him to the east coast of Florida.
“You did nothing wrong, dude. Don’t give up your career.”
Kendra always spoke as if she were trying to be one of the boys, and being a female RCMP officer, it helped her fit in, but Jake knew it was simply a front hiding a softer side.
“I’m tired of my career.” And he was. One split-second decision. A life lost. A life saved. But he was the one who had to live with the consequences. Every RCMP officer took risks when making a decision, but he’d learned in a hard and personal way how much that could hurt.
“Besides, this is my third time captaining a sailboat. Maybe I can make a new career out of it.”
“Don’t do that. I got no one to trust here,” Kendra said.
The sun made Jake squint, and he lowered his aviator sunglasses off his head and onto the bridge of his nose.
“Now we’re getting to it. This call is about you. I hope the cat bites you.”
“Really. Come back.”
“Really. Not going to happen.” Jake rubbed his hand over three-day stubble. He’d better shave before meeting his new boss.
“At least tell me where you’re going.”
“I told you. I’ve taken a captain’s job. I’m sailing to the Caribbean.”
“That’s a little vague. What do you know about the owner?”
“I checked her out. Don’t worry.” Debi Hall had been in the news before, but Jake wasn’t about to tell his cousin. Debi hadn’t bothered to mention her history to him, only that she wanted to sail her boat and wasn’t comfortable doing that alone. He didn’t care. He had his own secrets and wasn’t about to pry into hers.
“Who said I was worried? So where are you taking this woman?”
“I’ll go where she wants to go.” A pelican dive-bombed, dipped its head under the ocean’s surface, and resurfaced with a fish in its beak. Seagulls squawked as they flew in a messy formation, looking for breakfast. Not scenes he would see in Whistler, and the difference was remarkably welcome. He needed a change. He needed a life full of new experiences if he was going to survive.
“Man, you better stay in touch.” Kendra cleared her throat.
Jake waited for his cousin to come to the point.
“Have you called your—?”
“Nope.”
“Are you going to?”
“Nope.”
“I talked to the staff sergeant yesterday. He said you can come back when you’re ready.”
He shoved the plastic chair against the brick wall and stood. He walked the length of the short balcony, turned and retraced his steps.
“He told me that before I left.” Jake swore under his breath. “I didn’t mean to snap, but I’m not coming back.”
* * *
A few hours later, Jake stood on the dock with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. The Florida warmth swaddled him, and his shirt stuck to his back. It would take a while to get used to the heat compared to Whistler’s sub-zero temperatures.
He’d been in Florida for one day, and no one had looked at him with pity-filled eyes. No one feeling sorry for what happened to him or telling him he was a hero. He was an unknown person in the US, and he’d forgotten what a luxury that was. He could hide on a boat for a few months and get himself together.
Debi Hall’s catamaran, with its two hulls, had plenty of room for two people, and it seemed like they were two people who wanted some privacy away from the world. Debi said she’d recently lost her husband and needed help getting her boat to Puerto Rico via the Bahamas. She’d advertised, and Jake had applied. He knew there was more to her story, but didn’t see the harm if the woman wanted to follow in her husband’s wake.
She’d made a solid purchase. He held the specification sheet in his hand—radar, radar reflector, single sideband radio, VHF radio, water maker, generator, solar panels, life raft, and a dinghy with an outboard engine.
Halyards slapping masts chimed throughout the marina. A sailboat, trawler, or powerboat filled most slips. The marina was designed for the smaller boats, not the mammoth luxury yachts docked at the marina on the other side of the Intracoastal Waterway.
Debi’s perfume reached him before he heard her footsteps. He turned and watched her walk toward him. Sunlight glinted off her dark-brown-almost-black hair, which curled in waves ending below her shoulder blades. Muscled legs pressed against mid-thigh shorts. Her t-shirt showed off defined arms. She must be close to fifteen years older than him. He wasn’t into older women but appreciated beauty when he saw it. She wore pearl earrings, which dangled freely. Not exactly practical sailing wear. A black Cocker Spaniel walked on her right side, bouncing with exuberance.
“Jake?” Debi asked.
He almost didn’t answer. He was used to being referred to as Hunter or Constable Hunter. Even his cousin had called him Hunter at work. He held out his hand and shook hers.
“Nice to meet you.”
“Hello.”
After the mandatory pleasantries, Jake said, “The boat survey was impressive.”
“She’s in mint condition. Come on, I’ll show you.”
Tied to the floating dock, the catamaran’s decks rose three feet above the planks. Debi lifted the dog and placed her on the deck. She used the foothold to boost herself, and Jake followed through the gate in the lifelines and onto the non-skid deck. He noted the life sling, horseshoe float, and man overboard pole. All good safety gear to have if a person fell over the side.
“Is the dog coming with us?”
“Yup. Peanut’s used to sailing. She won’t be a problem.”
“I’m not really a dog person.”
“That’s okay. I’ll take care of her. She won’t interfere with your job as captain.”
“Is she why you called the boat A Dog’s Cat?”
“She is.”
Jake bent and pet the dog, and she peed. He stepped back before his shoe got wet.
Debi pulled the outdoor shower hose from the back step and sprayed the deck. “Sorry about that. She pees when she’s excited.”
Jake raised an eyebrow and smirked at Debi. “So you mean except for peeing on me, she won’t be a problem.”
Debi laughed. “It’s ju
st a little tinkle.”
Great. One more thing Debi hadn’t mentioned when she hired him. Until he could train the dog not to pee on him, he’d make sure the mutt stayed out of his cabin.
He left his boat shoes by the helm station and entered the main salon. His cabin and head were in the port hull. The privacy of having his own cabin and head made up for the shower being tucked beside the toilet. Debi would use the starboard-side bathroom facilities.
Before he had a chance to drop his duffle bag below, a knock vibrated on the hull.
“Aunt Debi, it’s me.”
“Wonderful. You’re here. Come on board,” Debi said.
Whoever ‘me’ was stepped into the cockpit and Peanut promptly peed on her foot. The woman laughed, and Jake couldn’t help but smile at her.
“I see Peanut still piddles,” the woman said.
“The hose is on the back step.” Debi walked with the grace of a ballerina through the sliding door and into the cockpit. “Let me introduce my niece, Shannon Payne.”
A sudden sweat soaked his back, and he lifted his shirt away from his skin.
“Champagne. That’s an unusual name.”
She released a warm laugh in his direction. “It’s Shannon Payne, not Champagne.”
The slight dusting of freckles across her nose made him think of bubbles in a slender glass, and her skin matched the color of Champagne. Champagne suited her.
“Jake Hunter.”
The two brunettes smiled at him. The identical dimples, freckled noses, and one slightly crooked tooth in each smile made Jake marvel at family genetics. The two women stared at him, waiting for him to say something. He cleared his throat.
“Are you joining us for lunch?”
Shannon shot a glance at Debi.
“You haven’t told him?”
Debi shook her head.
That didn’t sound good, Jake thought.
“Told me what?”
“Shannon is coming with us.”
“That wasn’t part of the deal.” Jake heard the growl in his voice. He didn’t like surprises, especially ones regarding whom he would spend time with at sea.
“I didn’t think it would be a big deal,” Debi said. “There’s lots of room.”
“Does she know how to sail?” Most men would welcome being alone at sea with a gorgeous woman. He wasn’t most men.
“She is standing right here,” Shannon said. “I know how to sail.”
“So what did you hire me for?” Jake asked Debi.
“I didn’t know she was coming. She’s had some changes in her life, and I invited her last night. I hired you to be captain. Shannon is here as my guest.”
His dream of privacy disappeared. He’d be sharing the port side with Shannon. The one head and shower would be used by both of them. At least they each had their own cabin with a door.
“Champagne and Piddles. Any more surprises?”
Shannon stuck her pert little nose in the air. “It’s Shannon, and the dog’s name is Peanut.”
CHAPTER THREE
Eight-Year-Old Boy
Somewhere in Canada
Twenty Years Ago
A boy hides behind a wall in his parents’ house. He’s waiting to say goodnight to his daddy, but someone has come to the door. When his parents go out, his daddy always pretends to forget something and runs back into the house. He gives the boy a hug. This is their little secret, and the boy loves the moment.
The boy sits, the seat of his flannel pajamas slip across the hardwood floor, and he almost falls off the bottom step. Only the upstairs hallway is carpeted. He tucks his sock-covered feet back behind the wall and bites his lip. His daddy gets mad when he snoops.
Mommy is already in the car waiting, so he doesn’t have much time. He wants to tell Daddy he found a snake in the grass, picked it up, and moved it out of the yard. Mommy won’t like it, but he knows Daddy will be proud of him.
He peeks up the stairs for the babysitter, but she’s in the room with his sister. Probably reading some stupid book. His cat slinks past the staircase but doesn’t come down. He knows she’s waiting to get in bed with him. Sheba is his pet. She ignores everyone else in the family. He loves the way she rubs her head underneath his chin and purrs. It makes up for having to clean the stinky cat litter.
The boy traces his fingertip along the cartoon drawings of police cars and fire trucks that form a pattern on his pajamas. Mommy’s been waiting too long now. He listens, knowing he has to catch Daddy the moment after the visitor leaves and before he walks out the door, and he has to make Daddy think he wasn’t listening.
His daddy isn’t letting the visitor in from the front porch, and the rain pelting the windows drowns the visitor’s words. He strains to hear but can’t risk getting any closer.
“Can’t. Gotta go. We’ve got tickets to the game,” his daddy says.
He hears his daddy grunt.
“What the fuck,” Daddy says.
He knows when his daddy drops the f-bomb, he’s really mad. Maybe he should tell him about the snake tomorrow.
The boy hears the person’s voice again and tries without success to make out the words.
“Fine. Get your panties out of your ass,” Daddy says, sounding like he’s talking through gritted teeth like he does when he’s pretending he’s not angry. The boy giggles. He can tell his best friend to get his panties out of his ass, and he stores the words for later.
The porch person speaks.
“No way is that ever going to happen, Buddy. You can’t have her,” Daddy says.
The boy is confused. Who is her? Their cat? His parents rescued Sheba months ago. Daddy’s not going to give her back to the owner now if that’s the person at the door. Daddy loves Sheba, too. His stomach tightens.
The porch person says something, and the boy hears shoving.
“You didn’t want her. She’s ours now. So piss off,” his daddy says.
The boy hears more shuffling and then the door slams.
Only silence remains in the front hall. Daddy forgot to come and say good night, but he didn’t let the porch person take Sheba, and the boy is happy.
* * *
The doorbell chime wakes the boy. He rubs his eyes and picks sleep out of the corners. He slowly sits and yawns. His bedside clock tells him he’s been asleep for two hours.
Sheba meows. She does that every time he wakes her from a deep sleep. He scratches her back just behind her tail, and she arches into his hand. At first, he hears only a slight rumble. He continues to scratch and gets his reward. She breaks into a full-out purr.
The doorbell chimes a second time. The babysitter’s boyfriend is probably waiting to be let in. She’s not allowed to have anyone over, but she always does. She doesn’t know he spies on her and sometimes watches grown-up movies from the stairs. He giggles and buries his face in his pillow. He doesn’t want her to know he’s awake.
He tosses his blanket aside and slides his feet across the floor. He’s moving like a ninja-spy. Sheba continues to purr and nestles deeper into her spot on his bed. He’s tempted to get back in and cuddle, but there might be something exciting happening downstairs. His door is open a crack, and the nightlight from the bathroom reaches the banister. Still in stealth mode, he widens the opening and sneaks into the hallway.
One quick peek at his sister’s door. It’s closed. She can’t notice what he’s up to, or she’ll rat him out. He tiptoes across the carpet and creeps down the stairs, staying close to the wall, so the babysitter can’t see him from the hallway. Muffled voices make it sound like more than one person is visiting.
He’s disappointed. Now he won’t be able to brag to his friends about a restricted movie he saw and they didn’t. If she has more than one friend over, they just sit and talk. Boooooring. It’s only when she’s alone with her boyfriend that the bad movies get played. He rolls his eyes at no one. He almost turns to go back to bed but then thinks maybe he’ll see something he can hold against her the next time she
babysits. Something that would make her let him stay up past his bedtime.
He reaches the bottom step and sits in the same place as when he snooped on his daddy.
“What’s wrong?” the babysitter asks.
The boy hears a tremor in her voice. He pokes his head around the corner, just far enough to see who’s there. He widens his eyes. Two police officers stand in the front hall, both holding their caps underneath their elbows, pressed against their sides. Both look serious. The boy whips his head behind the wall and pinches one of the police cars on his pajamas. He wants them to go away.
“There’s been a car accident,” the female police officer says.
The boy taps the side of his head gently against the wall. His stomach is all queasy, like it knows what’s coming before his mind figures out the meaning of two cops standing in his living room.
“Both parents were killed.”
The boy’s brain feels odd as if an egg cracked on the inside and is dripping through his thoughts.
CHAPTER FOUR
Shannon
Fort Lauderdale, Florida
Shannon and Aunt Debi returned from Sam’s Club with provisions. They’d been in Florida for two weeks stocking the boat, and the final errand was fresh groceries.
Jake met them at the rental car and helped carry boxes of food to the boat. Shannon stared at his muscled arms. The guy radiated testosterone and an animalistic scent, but she should really stop ogling him. What the heck was she thinking?
As they unpacked, Shannon tossed all cardboard on the dock, and only plastic packaging remained aboard. She had no intention of bringing cockroaches into their living environment. She’d heard them scurrying underneath the dock at night, and it creeped her out thinking one could get into her bed.
Peanut jumped up the steps from the starboard side and wiggled around Aunt Debi’s legs. Debi lifted Peanut and kissed her furry head.
“See. We weren’t gone for too long.”
Shannon placed two dozen eggs on the galley counter.
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