Overboard (A Crow's Nest Novel Book 2)

by Natasha Raulerson

  Okay, so maybe he still wanted to mouth off, just a little.

  Her lip quirked, before she went stoic again.

  “What’s with this line of questioning, señorita?” That bad feeling was growing. Something stank about this whole situation and it was just getting worse.

  Wallace sighed. “Cassidy Fletcher was at a yacht party with a Russian Diplomat last night and he claims she went crazy and started shooting at him. His security detail returned fire and she jumped overboard to escape. He sent the jet skis to retrieve her, if she was alive, and bring her into authorities.”

  He squinted his eyes. Cap and Hunter hadn’t found either of the jet ski bandits, which meant that they probably had their own backup close by at the time.

  Wallace sounded pretty sure of the theory. Miguel, however, didn’t buy it. They shot first, and you don’t shoot at a person when you’re trying to retrieve them alive.

  “Allegedly,” he said.

  “Allegedly.” She nodded. “But his story is pretty solid. He’s got witnesses and a gunshot wound to corroborate—and they called in the incident just after it happened.”

  Hunter walked up carrying two Styrofoam cups of what was probably bad coffee. He handed one to Miguel. “Sorry, Detective. Didn’t know you would be here, or I’d have grabbed a third.” Still, he held out his cup to her.

  “No worries,” she said. “I’m cutting back.”

  Hunter nodded and lifted the cup to his lips, sipping.

  Miguel tried to let this story sink in. He saw the way she cowered in the corner of the boat. The terror in Cassidy’s eyes. Maybe she had tried to off this guy, but nothing about her screamed cold-blooded killer.

  “Detective Wallace thinks that Cassidy was the aggressor,” Miguel told Hunter.

  His friend didn’t say anything, just sipped his coffee and hooked his thumb through a belt loop.

  “I said that the way the story checks out she was the aggressor,” Detective Wallace said. “I don’t have all the facts yet.”

  “The fact is, the dicks on jet skis shot at us first.” Miguel’s tone darkened. “If they were trying to retrieve her and get her to the authorities, why did they shoot at us?”

  “They claim you shot first.”

  The demons he had been so carefully trying to keep at bay whispered in his ear. If Miguel had been the one to shoot first, they never would have seen their deaths coming.

  “Well, we all know that’s a damn lie,” Hunter said in a level voice.

  If Miguel wasn’t so pissed off, he might be impressed at how calm Hunter was being.

  “That might be true,” Wallace said. “But right now, I have several eye witnesses saying she shot first on the yacht.”

  “Who is this Russian Diplomat she supposedly shot?” Miguel asked.

  “Normally I wouldn’t divulge that information, but since I know he’s already talking the press, chances are this story is going to be everywhere in few hours.”

  “God damn media,” Hunter scoffed.

  He’d had his own taste of the vultures when Sin had been stalked. They didn’t care whose life they ruined so long as they got the story.

  “Who is it?” Miguel asked, not wanting to get off topic.

  “Grigory Ivanov.” She put her hands in her pockets and looked through Cassidy’s glass door. “I have to tread lightly.”

  “Or your superiors will force you to back off whether he’s guilty or not,” Miguel said.

  She nodded. “Ivanov is a powerful man, and he has a lot of powerful friends.”

  “Well, hell.” Hunter tossed his empty cup in a nearby trashcan. “The race seemed rigged before that girl ever got out of the gate.”

  “Maybe,” Wallace said. “Maybe not. Fletcher’s legal history in the last year isn’t exactly spotless.”

  “No,” A woman said walking up to them.

  She was older, in her fifties or early sixties, with blond hair and the same blue eyes as Cassidy. Her arm was hooked through a man’s, tall, with a darker shade of blond hair and blue eyes.

  “But our daughter has psychological problems,” she said. “And I would hope that we can work something out to make this all go away quietly.”

  Chapter Four

  Cassidy woke for the second time and the first thing she saw was her parents sitting near the bed beside her. Her mother leaned forward, smiling softly.

  “Hey, baby girl.” She took Cassidy’s hand. Her nails were perfectly manicured and pink. A staple. “You’re okay. We’re here now. Everything is going to be okay.”

  Despite wanting to protest, Cassidy learned her lesson about freaking out. They’d just sedate her again, and the next time she woke up, Cassidy might be in a worse situation. No, she had to play the game for now.

  “Hey, Mom,” she said in a raw voice. “Can I have some water?”

  “Of course.” She got up and went to the counter.

  “Good to see you awake.” Her father smiled and bent down to kiss her forehead. “You had us worried.”

  “I always have you worried these days.” Guilt twisted in her gut. She didn’t mean to upset them, but she knew that her quest to find out the truth about Meredith took its toll.

  “You’re the only daughter we’ve got left.” Mom walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down, holding the cup to her lips. “We don’t want to lose you too.”

  Anger flared, replacing the guilt, as Cassidy sipped the water.

  They didn’t want to lose the only daughter they had left, but they had also ignored Meredith when she’d still been alive. They’d cut her off, let her live on the streets. If they’d taken half the measures with Meredith that they had with Cassidy, maybe they would still have two daughters. Except they didn’t see it that way. They saw Meredith as a lost cause, a drug addict that couldn’t be saved—and when she was murdered, they wanted to brush it all under the rug, save the family the embarrassment.

  The cool water helped her dry throat and she leaned her head back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. “You already have an opinion on what happened. I can tell.”

  Her father sighed. “Cassidy, you’re…not well. You need help.”

  As much as she wanted to stay calm, talk her away out of there, anger flared and tears of frustration stung her eyes. “Meredith needed help. From all of us, and none of us did anything to save her when she was alive.” Her wrists jerked against the straps and the monitors went off. “Now that she’s dead, you don’t even want to find her killer.”

  “We gave Meredith every opportunity to get help,” Mother said. She stood up and paced the room a bit, wringing her hands. “You know that. We did everything we could!”

  “You cut her off.”

  “It was all we could think of!” Her father snapped. “To make her understand that she was hurting not only herself, but us as well.”

  “And now, what?” Bitterness tinged her words. “Now you’re going to drug me home and keep me under lock and key?”

  “You’re not a prisoner, Cassidy,” Father said, his cheeks bright red from anger. “But you could go to jail for this. Do you understand that? You shot a man.”

  “I shot the man who killed my sister!”

  “Hush!” Mother looked around as if waiting for someone to walk in on them before looking back to Cassidy. “Do you have proof? Or is this like the last four people you falsely accused?”

  She frowned.

  “That’s what I thought,” Mother said. She rubbed her brow, the pearls on her dainty wrist glinting in the light from the window.

  “Luckily,” Father said. “The D.A. is our friend from a long time ago. We’ve already talked to him and the police. So long as you get the help you need, they won’t press any charges.”

  Her brows pinched together. “Help I need?”

  “We’ve talked to Dr. Timmins. You’ll have a bed at Stone Oaks for a while.”

  The heart monitor sped up. “No! You can’t!” She pulled against the restraints. “I’m no
t crazy!”

  Her mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Cassidy, please. We just want what’s best for you.”

  “By locking me up in a mental institution?”

  Before, at least, it had been outpatient. Cassidy would get the treatment and be able to go home—or rather to her parent’s home. This time, she knew they weren’t giving her any wiggle room for escape—and she was going to lose any ground she had to take down Ivanov.

  There was a knock at the door. They all looked over.

  “Am I interrupting?” Miguel stood there, tall, broad, and handsome. His left arm was wrapped in a bandage.

  Then she remembered, he’d been shot too—and that was on her. She’d been so consumed with trying to escape, that she’d completely forgotten about the man who saved her rear end from the ocean—and the monsters in it.

  “No.” Mom smiled and walked to Miguel, taking his arm to guide him over. “In fact, I’d say your timing is perfect. Cassidy do you remember Miguel Cortez? He’s the one who saved you.”

  She swallowed back the growing lump in her throat and tried to keep some semblance of herself. “Yeah. I remember. Thank you.”

  He flashed her a smile—it wasn’t sympathetic or pitying, but bright and vivid, lighting up his handsome face. “Wasn’t anything at all, Sirena. How are you feeling?”

  The slight Hispanic accent made her shiver. The heart rate monitor picked up a bit.

  “You’ll have to excuse her,” Mom said. “She’s stressed from the whole situation.”

  For once, Cassidy was grateful for her mother’s intervention. It saved her the embarrassment.

  “It’s absolutely natural, señorita, with such trauma.”

  Mother patted his arm, smiling up at him as though he were an angel come to save her from the thing that possessed her daughter.

  “Are you okay?” Cassidy asked him.

  He nodded. “Just a scratch. Not even worth worrying about.”

  “Cassidy will be leaving with us in a few days,” Mother said. “I really wish you would let us repay you for rescuing her.”

  “No need, Señora Fletcher,” Miguel said. “It was pleasure to pull such a ravishing beauty from the sea. It’s clear she takes after her mother.”

  He winked and her mother blushed.

  Oh, boy. This guy had a way about him for sure. Definitely not Cassidy’s type. A playboy, no doubt. Besides, she had other things to worry about besides how hot her savior was. Like finding a way out of this situation.

  “Did you tell the cops what happened?” Hope coated her words.

  He looked back to her, and something in his eyes shifted. Cassidy wasn’t sure what, but that playfulness was gone, replaced by something else.

  “Yes, Sirena.” He nodded. “I told them.”

  The inflection of his tone was somber, telling Cassidy everything she needed to know. It didn’t matter. With her history, and Ivanov’s status, no doubt they were going to side with the Russian diplomat. Having her go into the mental institution was just a way to shut her up and let her parents save face with all their friends. Wouldn’t want the people at the country club to know their other daughter had gone bananas and tried to murder someone.

  Her pulse shot up again and she squeezed her hands into fists.

  “Cassidy—” Her mother’s chastising tone didn’t help, but Miguel cut her off.

  “Hey, hey, hey.” His voice was sympathetic, and she felt the bed press down where he sat next to her. “Breathe, Sirena.”

  He took her hand, gently prying her fingers open, and he massaged her palm. His callouses rubbed along her soft skin and it felt good. A distraction from the panic that was trying to set in.

  She took a breath, staring into his dark gaze and felt the kinks work out. “Don’t say it’s going to be all right.”

  He chuckled. “I didn’t. I just said breathe, and you are. I have that sort of effect.”

  As much as she hated to admit it, he really did. Her heart slowed and she felt some of the frustration seep away.

  His easy-going nature somehow seemed to affect her parents too. Their tense shoulders relaxed, and she saw her father let out a breath.

  “Well, Mr. Cortez,” Mother said. “I’d like to thank you for stopping by, but we need to go make sure our hotel is arranged for the night.”

  Crap. If everyone left, no way was Cassidy going to be able to get out of that place. She couldn’t go back to the mental institution.

  For a moment, her savior seemed hesitant, as if he might argue with her parents.

  “I understand, Mrs. Fletcher. You must take care of la familia.”

  Her mother blushed again.

  “It was a pleasure to meet you, Sirena.” Miguel kissed the back of her hand and stood up.

  “No!” She gripped his hand, refusing to let go. “Please. Just—I don’t want to be alone. Would you mind, sitting with me for a while?”

  “Cassidy, really.” Her mother let out a deep sigh. “Mr. Cortez has done enough.”

  “It’s nothing,” Miguel said, brushing his thumb over Cassidy’s knuckles. “I don’t mind staying for a while.”

  “Please, Mr. Cortez,” her father said. “You won’t even accept compensation.”

  He waved him off. “No need, Mr. Fletcher. Also, it’s Miguel. You two go on and take care of your accommodations. Cassidy and I will be fine, won’t we?”

  Her mother sighed. “Very well. I don’t want to upset her any more than she already has been. We’ll leave word at the nurse’s station that you’re allowed to stay.”

  Relief flooded her and Cassidy leaned her head back against the pillow. At least something was going right for her.

  Miguel sat by Cassidy’s bed after her parents left. Something about this woman got to him. There were a lot of similarities between them that he didn’t care to admit. Including but not limited to being tied down to a bed—and not in a kinky way. Any other circumstance and Miguel would use his “A” game on Cassidy, but the wild look in her eye reminded him of a time in his life, one that he had worked hard to overcome.

  And yet still, the darkness lingered. It came to the edge of his being far more than he cared to admit.

  “You know they shot first.” Cassidy balled her hands into tight fists as she looked over at him, her bright blue eyes welling with tears. “I’m not crazy.”

  He didn’t know if she was or wasn’t, but desperation seeped through her pores. Everyone so far had told her she was crazy, that she was wrong. Even Wallace had been skeptical of what really happened. Which, if it had just been Cassidy’s word, all right—and he didn’t know what happened prior to finding her in the ocean, but she didn’t wind up there, with a bullet wound in her leg by accident. Even if she did shoot first, something still felt wrong to him.

  When everyone thinks you’re crazy, the best thing someone can do is actually listen.

  “I know they shot first.” He put a hand over her fist, trying to give her some reassurance. “At least on the water. Why don’t you tell me what happened before that?”

  She frowned and tore her gaze away, looking at the ceiling instead. “You’ll just side with them. With him.”

  The venom in her voice made him pause. That sort of anger caused people to do things, stupid things sometimes. Her pretty lips twisted in an ugly scowl, she jerked her feet, trying to get them out from under the strap.

  “Easy, Sirena.” He rubbed his thumb over the back of her palm and felt the tension ease, if just slightly. “I’m not judging or siding with anyone. I just want to know what happened.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “All that matters is, if you don’t let me go, more women are going to die.”

  “More women?” A sinking feeling flooded his gut. Miguel didn’t like where this conversation was going. It wouldn’t be the first time police had overlooked a situation because they didn’t think that a person was a reliable source. Sometimes, even with a reliable source, circumstances of the law kept the police from
being able to interfere.

  “Grigory Ivanov is a sick twisted bastard who takes women on his yachts, murders them brutally, and then dumps their bodies.”

  The monitors jumped up, her pulse and heart rate increasing.

  “Okay, calm down.”

  It wasn’t that he didn’t believe her. Instinct said he should—and Miguel didn’t like ignoring his instinct. It’s what allowed him to survive when he’d been taken prisoner.

  She jerked against the restraints. “He’ll come for me too, ya know. Just like he sent those goons to finish the jobs earlier. He doesn’t want me talking because I know the truth.”

  Maybe she did, but even so, if she didn’t calm down someone was going to come in and sedate her. He squeezed her forearm. Even if she wasn’t crazy, she was acting it and that’s probably why no one was listening to her. “Take a breath, before a nurse comes in and puts you back to sleep.”

  The last thing they needed was for her to be put under. Miguel knew what her parents planned. Wallace told him. She hadn’t been able to question Cassidy—at least not yet. Whatever in the Fletchers had with the DA, it was pretty damn tight. Whoever this Grigory Ivanov guy was, apparently, he’d gone along with it too, which made Miguel wonder why. If Ivanov was innocent, why would he back down so easily?

  Cassidy closed her eyes and took some slow breaths. When the nurse peeked in, Miguel assured her everything was all right and flashed her a smile. She grinned for just a moment before nodding and walking out.

  At least that bullet had been dodged. For now.

  “Okay,” Miguel rubbed his face. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to go make a phone call. I’ve got some pretty tech savvy friends who might be able to get me some information on this Ivanov guy.”

  “What?” Her blue eyes flew open. “You believe me?”

  He shrugged and stood up. “I believe something stinks worse than a dead fish basking in the sun for days. Look. Do me a favor. Relax for a half hour. I’m gonna make a call, grab some coffee, and then I’ll be back, okay?”