Overboard (A Crow's Nest Novel Book 2)

by Natasha Raulerson

  The one-night stand had been a mistake. A sensual, pleasure-filled night not like any she’d ever had. Goosebumps rippled along her flesh and she took a breath, trying to calm her racing heart. Maricela started the rise in her blood pressure, but Cassidy knew there were several layers to it. More than she’d like to admit.

  She stood by the door and held out her arms. “Are you coming or just gonna sit in the car all day?”

  If it was Cassidy’s choice, she’d take off, but before she could, Miguel pulled into the drive behind her. She let out a breath. Maricela had every right to be angry, and with that sharp temper, Cassidy was almost scared to meet Miguel’s mother.

  After drying her sweaty palms on her shorts, Cassidy got out of the car. Miguel was already walking up the drive. Like Cassidy, he was incognito, but wearing a blond, spiked wig, and a beach bum clothes that would make a 1970s cheesy television show proud. He flashed his megawatt smile at her.

  “Rugged bum chic looks good on you, Sirena.”

  A thousand come-backs came to mind, but instead, she pressed her lips into a thin line and walked up to the front door.

  “What’d I say?” Miguel asked.

  Maricela rolled her eyes and walked in. Cassidy followed—and felt like she’d been transported to a different world.

  Everyone in the house was dancing, smiling, or laughing. The music bounced off the walls, giving an energetic, infectious feel throughout. Cassidy spun around, taking it all in. When the door shut behind them, she pulled her cap off, letting her long hair loose. The conversations switched back and forth from English to Spanish. Even though Cassidy was fluent, it took a minute to adjust to the atmosphere. The smell of food made her stomach growl. The last time she’d eaten had been earlier in the day at the boathouse.

  Maricela left her at the door, and went in, her scowl replaced with a smile as she greeted everyone and disappeared into the kitchen at the back of the house. Despite the many feet on the floor, somehow the white tile was still immaculate. The brown leather couches were reserved for the elderly folk who all sat, eating and seat-dancing to the music.

  Everyone gave Cassidy a sidelong long glance. She wasn’t the only blond in the room, but she wasn’t Latina in any sense—more so she wasn’t family. Miguel shouldn’t have brought her here.

  He walked up, putting a hand on the small of her back. “Relax.”

  Speak of the devil.

  The touch made her back tingle, made tension seep out of her shoulders, and as much as she wanted to stay near him, Cassidy pulled away. Before Miguel could say anything, a short woman, with dark brown hair that had silver stripes through it came over.

  “Miguel! Mi hijo!” She pulled him into a hug as a smile spread across his face.

  They spoke in Spanish, catching up, before his mother slapped him upside the back of the head and asked why the police were after him. Cassidy didn’t let on that she knew what they were saying. She took a step back, staying by the door while they continued talking. With any luck, she might be able to melt through it and disappear through to the other side.

  Instead, Miguel’s mother looked right at her with the same almond eyes her son had. Cassidy sucked in a breath and picked at her nails. She didn’t need another lecture, warning, or threat. There had been plenty of those recently. Even from her parents, though more subtle. It seemed no matter which way she turned, Cassidy had animosity aimed at her. Maybe this was her punishment for not having been there for Meredith. Some sort of penance she had to pay. Before Miguel, she’d felt on her own in this vendetta—and for a brief moment after, she’d let herself be comforted by his presence.

  Cassidy expected more of the judgment she’d received from Maricela, but instead, Mrs. Cortez clasped strong hands in front of her. The yellow of her dress accented the darkness of her brown skin. She tilted her head, and then gave her a warm smile.

  “Welcome to my home, Cassidy!” Her voice carried much more of an accent than Miguel’s or Maricela. Not inner city, but old country. “We will get you food and drink. You will tell me all about yourself.”

  There was such hospitality in her voice that Cassidy was taken aback. It was the complete opposite of Maricela. Mrs. Cortez walked over and laced her arm through Cassidy’s and led her to the kitchen.

  “Mrs. Cortez—”

  “Maria,” she said.

  There were a lot of ‘M’ names in the family. Cassidy raised a brow and Mrs. Cortez—Maria— must have had good intuition, because she laughed, light and wholehearted.

  “My husband’s name was also Miguel. Since we had started with so many ‘M’s’ we saw no reason to change it.” She patted Cassidy’s hand.

  Some families were like that. Rotating names or keeping some sort of themes. Cassidy’s parents had just wanted classy sounding names so far as she could tell. No rhyme or reason behind them other than it was what her parents liked. Nothing wrong with that, but as an investigative journalist, she liked origin stories. Little quirks like Maria’s—well, to Cassidy, it seemed more heartfelt.

  “My sister’s name was Meredith.” Her chest tightened at the thought of her sister. It always did. That didn’t seem likely to stop at least until Ivanov was handled. Then maybe, Cassidy could start to heal. “She’d have probably fit right in.”

  Maria paused. “Was?”

  “She…” She cleared her throat. “She passed away.”

  If Maria asked beyond that, Cassidy would try to bypass it. Telling people her sister was tortured and murdered—well, it was a difficult topic and this was supposed to be a celebration. Maria’s celebration, in fact.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, chica. It is never easy to lose someone close to us.” She let go of Cassidy’s hand and walked over to the stove.

  Large, aluminum trays of yellow rice, pork, chicken, and plantains sat on the flat top stove. The kitchen was quaint, with floral accents, wood cabinets, and marble counter tops. A two-seater table sat against the far wall, next to the pantry.

  Maricela had gone out the sliding glass door to the backyard. She laughed with someone before her gaze caught Cassidy’s. Her persona changed in an instant from relaxed to angry. The weight of it pressed down on Cassidy’s shoulders. The guilt stacked up and the desire to escape grew.

  “Do not mind my daughter,” Maria said as she made Cassidy a plate. “She is very protective of her brother since he returned from the military. We thought we lost him. He was reported missing in action for nearly a year before he came home to us—he was not the same man who left.”

  Lines crinkled in her forehead as she spoke. Her movements slowed for a moment before she shook her head. “Anyway, it took a long time for him to get better.”

  The scars on his back. That had to be where they came from. Cassidy wondered if he’d been a prisoner of war. It would line up with what Maria said and what Cassidy had seen. The innate curiosity that never went away made Cassidy want to know more.

  “Can I ask what happened to him?”

  Maria slowed a bit in making her plate and nodded. “He was taken and kept in a cave. Tortured for months.”

  “What did they want?” Cassidy asked. The plate felt heavy in her hands.

  “The same thing any enemy wants. Information.”

  “But Miguel never gave it up.”

  “He would rather have died,” Maria said. “And he almost did. But the soldiers found him just in time.”

  Cassidy’s heart ached, thinking about the torturous pain he must have gone through. The unbearable agony. Meredith had a night of it—Miguel had months. And he’d survived, but not without the scars.

  And, from what she understood, he’d been lost for a while. Not that Cassidy could blame him. It must have been such a hard journey home.

  Miguel laughed with a group of men in the living room, a cold beer in his hand. It amazed her that no one wanted to call the cops. Her parents probably would have. They never wanted disgrace or embarrassment. Appearances meant more to them than anything else. She di
dn’t get that feeling with the Cortezes.

  Maria handed her two plates filled to the brim. Cassidy didn’t exactly peck like a bird, but there was no way she’d be able to eat all of it. They must have weighed a pound each.

  “Now, go eat. Take one for Miguel.” She rubbed Cassidy’s shoulders. “You are welcome here, Cassidy, and if anyone gives you a hard time, you tell them they will deal with me.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. Maria didn’t seem to have any qualms about her being there, and that made Cassidy’s shoulders ease a little bit. Maybe Maricela wasn’t happy she was there, and Cassidy still needed to find a way to break ties with Miguel, but at least Maria had shown her some kindness.

  When she walked into the living room, Miguel spotted her and walked over, taking the plates from her. Every seat in the room was taken, even the white folding chairs that had been set out. Some people stood and ate. Even though Maria had been a welcoming presence, Cassidy could feel the questions as people stared at her. It made her feel out of place and unsure.

  An older gentleman with gray hair and kind eyes stood up, gesturing for her to take his seat.

  “Thank you.” She walked over and sat down. He winked at her and then walked over to another group of people.

  Miguel handed her one of the plates and stood next to her eating his own. “So, are you going to tell me what’s with the sudden cold shoulder?”

  She sighed. “Just…enjoy your mom’s birthday. We can talk later.”

  It wouldn’t be a fun conversation. Hell, she dreaded having it as it was. She searched for regret for sleeping with him. She knew better, but it wasn’t there. It had been amazing—primal and raw. Everything she needed. A shiver coursed through her. Yeah, talking to him about it wasn’t going to be easy, but it had to be done. Hopefully, when they got back to the marina, Honey would have something for them.

  People came and left throughout the day. The house was always full, and if the cops were watching, Miguel knew they wouldn’t be able to tell that he’d arrived with Cassidy. The most they could do was a stakeout. They didn’t have enough probable cause to bug the place and had only asked his mother to inform them if he came around.

  They didn’t know his mother at all if they thought she was going to turn in her only son. Even when he’d been at his darkest, his mother never gave up on him. She’d been by his side, praying, holding his hand, taking care of him. There was a lot he regretted during that time—only because he didn’t understand it, nor could he control it. But he’d gotten help and his life back.

  “I always knew you would,” she’d said.

  If his mother hadn’t given up on him then, she certainly wasn’t going to doubt him now. Besides, Cassidy needed help, and he wasn’t the guy to turn someone away.

  Ever since they’d finished eating, Cassidy had kept her distance. Mingling with other people, but rarely staying next to him. Miguel knew Maricela said something to her. His sister had a worse temper than he did, but he didn’t like that Cassidy wouldn’t stay in his presence for more than five minutes.

  The upbeat salsa song that had been playing faded out. Cassidy had been dancing with a Ricardo—Miguel’s friend, but he didn’t like the way Ricardo smiled at her. He knew that look—and Miguel couldn’t blame him. Cassidy was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen, but she didn’t act like it was important—or maybe she just didn’t realize it. Looks weren’t the first thing on her mind. Revenge probably was, but beyond that, it wasn’t hard to see that she had a good heart. Killing wasn’t in her nature, despite what Cassidy thought. She’d regret making Ivanov take his last breath for the rest of her life.

  Miguel, on the other hand, could kill Ivanov and never think about it again. He’d come to terms with killing men. Some of them deserved it. He’d heard his mother tell Cassidy about his time as a P.O.W. and he hadn’t intervened. What no one knew, except the men that rescued him and the people who’d gone over the reports, is that Miguel killed his captors just before the cavalry arrived.

  And he’d enjoyed it.

  Ricardo spun her, and that blond hair cascaded out like a golden fan flaring out behind her. He pulled her in close to him, and Miguel clenched his fists.

  Darkness and rage tinged the edges of his vision. If Ricardo had been a stranger, he would have broken hands by now. But what Miguel hadn’t understood when he’d come home from war, he understood now. Not only that, he knew how to control the darkness, instead of letting it control him. But it did surprise Miguel that it had come on in that moment.

  It took him a minute to realize that he was jealous. Miguel didn’t get jealous. He dated women short term. He didn’t get attached, but Ricardo was a dog. Cassidy deserved better than that.

  Yeah, that’s the logic Miguel was going with as he walked over and tapped Ricardo on the shoulder.

  “Let me cut in.” He spoke in Spanish, knowing Ricardo preferred it.

  His friend narrowed his gaze at Miguel. “You’re lucky this is your house.” Ricardo took Cassidy’s hands and kissed the back of one, then the other. “It was a pleasure.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Ricardo. It was fun.”

  Miguel stepped in as soon as Ricardo gave him enough room and slid his arms around Cassidy. A slow, sensual song came on. She tensed in his arms and bit her lip. “I should…”

  “Dance with me.” He didn’t say it with force, but with hope that she would say yes.

  For a brief moment, he thought she might decline. Her sweet blue eyes clouded with uncertainty, and damn it, but he didn’t know why. What could Maricela have possibly—well, no he knew plenty of what Maricela could have said. She might be his little sister, but she was overprotective as hell when it came to him. No doubt she tried to put the fear of God into Cassidy. Maricela could be intimidating—and that was putting it mildly.

  Cassidy nodded and she stepped into him. He adjusted his arms, one taking her hand, the other sliding around the small of her back. She felt good pressed against him, sun kissed and warm skinned. Like she was the perfect fit, meant to be there in his arms. He’d danced with hundreds of women, but as the music guided them, he could honestly say that not one of them felt as comfortable in his arms as Cassidy did that very moment. It scared him that he felt that way. That he could possibly be thinking more of Cassidy. He tried so hard not to, to make sure that his baggage didn’t affect anyone else’s life. However, in a short time, Cassidy had managed to maneuver past his defenses—and she didn’t even know she was doing it.

  He tucked his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in the scent of her—saltwater and his shampoo. A true mermaid. His Sirena. At least he wanted her to be.

  And that, if nothing else, surprised the fuck out of him.

  “What did my sister say to you?”

  She tensed before relaxing again and leaning into him a bit. “The truth.”

  “What truth?”

  “We should talk about it later. This is supposed to be a celebration for your mom. I don’t want to ruin that.”

  He didn’t like that she wouldn’t tell him, but for the moment, the music cascaded around them. Her body moved in time with his. It gave him a sort of serenity that his meds and even the high speed of a boat couldn’t. Something about her intoxicated him. A smart man might turn and walk away before he got too deep, but Miguel just surprised himself by wanting to pull her closer.

  When the music stopped, he kissed her cheek, right at the corner of her soft lips. She shuddered in his arms and pulled back, her fingers lingering on his for a brief moment before she smiled and walked into the kitchen.

  As soon as they got back to the boathouse, he was going to find out exactly what was going on.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Cap had eluded three patrol cars, and then given the young rookie who pulled him over a dark look. The only reason the kid had gotten him was because Cap had let him. It was just meant to be a major fuck you to the higher ups, knowing that a rookie had done what they couldn’t.
The rookie would get some praise, even if he had to let Cap go. Which, since Cap hadn’t broken any laws or run any stop signs, the cops could only grumble about the wild goose chase they’d been on all day.

  The sun had set, the stars were out, and Cap parked the car outside the Crow’s Nest. He’d built the place five years ago after buying it from the previous owner. It had become a sanctuary to soldiers that had nowhere else to turn. He didn’t rehabilitate them, he just gave them a sense of purpose again. Something that, often, society couldn’t do for them. If it weren’t for the Nest and the Crows, Cap knew he’d be dead by now. The men had saved him—and then Honey had taught him how to live again.

  He pulled up to the Nest and got out of the car, raising a brow at Honey, Jax, and a form that looked suspiciously like Jason Cantrell laying with his head in Honey’s lap. If Cap had any less control, that damn kid would have had his neck snapped. When he’d first shown up a few months back, Hunter had repaired his boat. The kid had tried to con his way out of having to pay by keying his own boat. They’d managed to get out of the lawsuit that Hunter almost found himself in after punching the kid—thanks in large part to Honey digging up dirt on Cantrell Sr.

  “What the hell?” he asked, walking over to them.

  Honey looked over, her brown eyes wide and filled with concern. “Cap…”

  Cantrell jerked up from her lap, stumbling to his feet. The breeze brought the smell of tequila with it. The red rimmed eyes and tear-streaked face made Cap hold up his hands in surrender, as if trying to calm a wild animal. That’s exactly what the kid reminded him of. Cantrell stumbled again, having lost his footing from being so drunk, and the street light revealed the deep bruises and glaring cuts on his face.