Riptide (A Renegades Novel)

by Skye Jordan

  “I’ll say.” Abby sipped her own coffee. “I heard you comin’ in at five this morning, missy.”

  The smile crept over Tessa’s face so fast, she had no control over stopping it. “Thanks for handling Sophia.”

  “None of that.” She swatted Tessa’s knee. “I want the good stuff. Corinne would be proud to see you going after what you want.”

  That struck a bittersweet chord with Tessa. She had been going for what she wanted—before she’d discovered the illness Corinne had been hiding. An illness that could have been handled differently if Tessa had known and been able to talk to Corinne about treatment alternatives.

  But, as Corinne loved to say, everything happened for a reason. And in hindsight, Tessa doubted she could have changed Corinne’s mind. Besides, the only alternative would have been risking Sophia. And Tessa couldn’t imagine making a decision that would have harmed her.

  This morning, Tessa was wondering what the purpose behind finding Ian had been. Maybe to show her how much life had been passing her by while she’d been caring for Corinne and Sophia. Only, even when she’d been dating and in relationships, no one had ever clicked with her like Ian had.

  “Who was he?” Abby asked.

  Tessa shook her head. She wasn’t going to get into the gloriously slutty details. “Someone I met while I was waiting for Zach—who never showed, by the way.” This part wiped her smile away and unearthed an angst she’d been suffering for months. “They work together. He said Zach left town after filming yesterday and went back to Los Angeles for another job.”

  Abby’s smile fell, and she gasped. “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “Bugger.”

  Tessa sighed. Reality took all the fun out of her morning. “Yeah.”

  “What do we do now?”

  “Keep chasing him, I guess. I don’t know if his job was in LA or if he was just stopping there before he went to wherever the job was located. I may have to hire Swearinger again.”

  Abby winced. “But he’s so pricey.”

  “I know.” Luckily, Tessa’s work provided a generous income. But living in DC, employing a full-time nanny, and keeping Sophia in private preschool were all expensive. And Tessa had drained her savings for Corinne’s funeral.

  She looked out the sliding glass door leading to the patio, her heart heavy with thoughts of Corinne. “God, I miss her. I’m still pissed at her, but I miss her. I wish she were here to tell me what to do.”

  “I miss her too,” Abby said. “But I think you already know what she’d tell you to do. You need to trust your instincts.”

  Her instincts were telling her she needed to get these papers signed ASAP. And that made her antsy and distracted.

  “Could the bloke you saw last night get information on where your baby daddy is?”

  Tessa shook her head. “He hates the guy. Confirmed Corinne’s version of him being a playboy. Says he’s arrogant and pisses everyone off, which lines up with the fact that he paid Corinne to go away.”

  “Try not to worry, love.” Abby reached over and squeezed her hand. “If he’d rather pay her off than get a paternity test, you aren’t going to have any trouble getting him to sign over his rights.” She grinned and slapped Tessa’s hand. “Maybe he’ll even pay you to do it.”

  Tessa smiled at Abby’s teasing. But a familiar and uncomfortable knot wedged beneath Tessa’s ribs. She absolutely could not envision a life without Sophia, and Zach had the power to blow their cozy little world apart.

  “I found Frankieeeeeeeeee…” Sophia came running into the living room, waving her stuffed turtle with both hands.

  “Oh Lord, he’s as big as you are.” Tessa smirked at Abby. “What? Couldn’t find one bigger?”

  Sophia peeked out from behind the turtle’s shell. “Nope.”

  Tessa laughed and grabbed Sophia by the waist, hoisting the little imp into her lap. She pressed her face to Sophia’s neck and kissed her a dozen times, until her baby was rolling on the couch in a fit of giggles.

  “All right, munchkin,” Abby stood. “What would you like for breakfast? Mickey Mouse pancakes again?”

  Sophia lay on her back and pressed the turtle to arm’s length while her little bare feet burrowed under Tessa’s thigh. Smiling, Tessa stroked the petal-soft skin of Sophia’s leg.

  “Mickey Mouse pancakes, Frankie?” Sophia asked her turtle. “What? You want choc chips in them?”

  “Fat chance, Frankie,” Tessa said, “but good try.”

  “I understand turtles love blueberries.” Abby pulled Bisquick and a mixing bowl from the cupboards. “Does Frankie want to help make them?”

  “Yay,” Sophia cried, rolling off the sofa and running into the kitchen with Frankie, while asking Tessa, “Mommy, are we going to Discovery Museum today?”

  Tessa rubbed stinging eyes. “Mommy needs to work this morning,” she only half lied. What she had to do was figure out what her Plan B looked like. “Maybe a little later.” If she didn’t have to change their tickets to leave today.

  With Sophia busy making breakfast, Tessa flipped on the television to the morning show and opened her laptop. She sipped her coffee, half listening to the anchors discussing politics and human interest news. Her mind was still on Ian and the way she’d left him sleeping sprawled on his stomach, naked.

  She smiled down at her coffee with his sweet “Promise to call me if you decide to stay in town” drifting through her mind. Then the way he’d forced himself to one elbow, used his free hand to wrap the back of her neck, and draw her down for a good-bye kiss that had felt more like a let’s-get-this-started kiss.

  Sophia’s bubbly laughter pulled Tessa from her thoughts, and she scrolled through her work email. To say she wasn’t tempted to stay in town just for more horizontal time with Ian would be a lie. But she knew it was better to cut off contact before she grew attached. Tessa had experienced enough loss for a lifetime. She didn’t have the heart to get involved with anyone who wouldn’t stick. And, as amazing as he’d been, she still doubted Ian Bellamy knew the meaning of the word stick.

  She answered a few low-priority emails, then navigated into the Hawaiian Airlines website and browsed their rules for flight changes.

  Before she’d realized how it happened, she was thinking about Ian again. Ian and all his muscle. All his passion. All his laughter. Just the memory of his laugh made her smile. And pretty soon, she was staring out the window, reliving every delicious moment of their night. Her brain was still floating somewhere near cloud nine. She’d never felt this kind of aftereffect. But then she’d never had a night like that before either.

  Ian was exactly where he belonged—in the big-timer’s arena and nowhere near Tessa’s safe, stable life. She glanced over at Sophia and Abby stoveside, where Sophia dropped blueberries into the pancake batter.

  Sophia was Tessa’s true north. That squeaky, silly, little three-year-old had nudged Tessa’s all-consuming career aside with nothing more than a smile. Yeah, last night had been one-of-a-kind unforgettable, but that creature right there in nothing but a pink frilly pajama tank and Powerpuff Girls undies, that was her heart, her life, her entire future.

  Tessa set her computer aside. She’d look into changes later. Right now, she wanted to make pancakes with her daughter.

  She picked up her coffee and paused to take a sip before standing. The words “…the star of Hawaiian Heat…” drifted from the television, drawing Tessa’s attention. The studio audience exploded in applause.

  “Who do they have on today?” Abby called from the kitchen.

  The pretty anchor pushed from a stool to greet the guest.

  “Someone from—” Tessa caught a glimpse of the man’s face before the camera angle changed, and her stomach took a roller-coaster free fall. A man who looked a lot like Ian—way too much like Ian—but who was not Ian, strolled on stage wearing black jeans and a black blazer over a white button-down shirt.

  As the man strolled toward the anchor and shook hands, Te
ssa’s mind darted in half a dozen directions—to Ian, to the cast of the show, to who was calling themselves a star when Ian was the only lead. But nothing made sense. None of the puzzle pieces Tessa had so carefully researched fit.

  The anchorwoman released the man’s hand, turned toward the audience, and gestured to her guest with an enthusiastic “Welcome Ian Bellamy.”

  A swath of heat cut through Tessa’s belly. Her heart followed her stomach to her feet.

  “What?” she whispered. Dread coiled deep in her gut as if her subconscious had figured out what her conscious mind still fought. “Holy…”

  Fuck. She held back the word purely out of habit, but her stomach took a free fall to her feet, and her mind fragmented.

  Her coffee cup slipped from her fingers, and Tessa gasped just as it cracked against the corner of the coffee table and shattered.

  Hot coffee splashed Tessa’s hands. “Ouch.” She jumped. “Oh my God.”

  “Mommy?” Sophia called.

  Tessa gathered her thoughts like a kid caught sneaking a cookie. “I’m okay. I’m fine.” But her gaze rose to the television again. “Just an acci—” The rest of the word evaporated as she watched the man slide onto the stool, lean against the leather back, and clasp his hands. His grin was wide and perfect. His skin tan. His hair gelled.

  But he wasn’t Ian Bellamy.

  Was he? Because he didn’t have a cut on his forehead either. And she’d seen one of them—either Zach or Ian—with a cut on his forehead yesterday. She hadn’t imagined that. She hadn’t imagined the crew member telling her Zach had gotten the cut while surfing. Still, panic tightened her throat. Fear pushed tears to her eyes. Her knees buckled, and she dropped back to the sofa. No, no, no.

  “What happened?” Abby crouched beside her and put a hand on her knee, her nails a messy kaleidoscope of polish, compliments of Sophia. “Are you okay?”

  Tessa didn’t look at her. She couldn’t pry her gaze from the TV or her mind from a major, major clusterfuck she hoped, prayed, she hadn’t made.

  “…I understand you live here in LA,” the anchor was saying, “and that you grew up surfing.”

  A knot formed in her stomach.

  “I’ve won a number of championships too,” the guest said. “Was just about to go pro when I was snapped up for the Blue Lagoon remake.” He lifted his hands out to the sides. “And a star was born.”

  “He’s a condescending, arrogant prick.” Ian’s words floated back to her, testing everything she believed. Tessa clung to the idea that the anchor had made a major screwup and called the guy by the wrong name—only that didn’t make sense. But, hell, nothing made sense right now. And she was terrified of what it would look like if it did make sense.

  Sophia climbed up on the sofa next to her and plastered herself to Tessa’s side. “Mommy? Did you get an owie? It’s okay. Frankie will get Band-Aids.”

  She crawled to the end of the opposite end of the couch and disappeared into the bedroom they shared.

  Abby picked up the broken cup and collected shards. “What was that about?” She stood and moved to the kitchen, opening and closing closets and cupboards, muttering, “Don’t move until I get those little pieces up.”

  Tessa was fighting to hear the television. “…why don’t you surf your own scenes?”

  Tessa braced her forearms on her knees and covered her mouth with both hands, whispering, “Sweet Jesus.”

  All the strong walls she’d built over the years crumbled, and she started to tremble.

  “That was a colossal bummer,” he said. “Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at it, the studio decided I’m too valuable to risk boarding those pipeline waves…”

  He babbled on about his skill and how the waves in Hawaii were nothing compared to the ones he’d surfed in Australia.

  Abby returned with a small garbage can and gingerly picked up the smaller shards. “Just keep Sophia away from here until I can get to the building’s office and pick up a vacuum.”

  Tessa barely heard her. She was mired in memories, trying to recall the moment the man she’d been with the night before had called himself Ian. But she couldn’t. What she remembered was all the other women calling him Ian as they asked for his autograph. The sight of women comparing signatures on their bodies, signatures that resembled the name Ian Bellamy.

  She pushed her mind further back, searching for a time she’d called him Ian and he’d corrected her. But she couldn’t remember that either. Because she hadn’t. What she’d done was ask when Zach was going to be there.

  “Sorry. It’s been a long day. Do you know if Zach is coming?”

  “What? Who?”

  “Your twin. Your double. Your costar. Whatever you call him. He was supposed to be here tonight. Is he coming?”

  She’d never called the man she’d been with the night before Ian because she hadn’t felt like the name fit him. And, shit, why hadn’t she listened to her gut?

  Because she never listened to her gut. She played by the rules, colored within the lines, stayed out of trouble, just like she’d told him last night.

  Right up until the moment she’d had sex with him.

  Repeatedly.

  “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod…” she chanted softly as her anxiety rose.

  Squeezing her eyes closed, she covered her face with both hands. If this was truly Ian on the show in front of her, the only person Tessa could have been with last night was Zach.

  A sob rocked her shoulders, and Tessa sank into denial. She couldn’t have… She simply couldn’t have… Maybe there was someone else on the crew… Maybe this was a practical joke between coworkers she’d fallen into…

  “…do you guys want to see Ian and his stunt double, side by side?” the anchorwoman asked the audience.

  A sound rose from Tessa’s throat. A sound of terror and anguish. But the crowd went crazy again, reminding Tessa of the hours she’d spent on the sidelines with the groupies screaming for Ian.

  “All right…” The newswoman continued talking, but Tessa didn’t listen.

  With her hands curled into fists and pressed to her mouth, Tessa sipped a breath and held it, her gaze steady on the screen.

  An image of the man being interviewed—she still couldn’t bring herself to think of him as Ian—came up. It was a familiar sight—the guy on stage now, only at the beach, wearing nothing but white board shorts, grinning at something in the distance. Tessa would have known by the body alone he wasn’t the man she’d spent the night with. He might have been roughly the same size, but he didn’t have near the muscle mass, and what muscle he did have wasn’t as honed. Tessa would never forget the abs she’d traced with her tongue. And those did not live on the man pictured.

  In the next instant, the man who owned the abs she’d explored intimately popped up on the screen. Same pose, same smile, same white board shorts. But definitely not the same man.

  Tessa choked on a sob. She wasn’t exactly shocked when the anchorwoman validated her worst possible fear.

  “And here we have Zach Ellis.”

  Hearing his name felt like a physical punch to her gut. Tessa covered her face with both hands and whispered a shaky “Holy. Fuck.”

  “You never swear.” Abby’s voice touched her ear. Her hand closed over Tessa’s knee. “What’s wrong?”

  She couldn’t speak. She was having an honest to goodness panic attack. She’d never had one, but she’d heard others talk about how they felt, and this was either a panic attack or a heart attack. Her heart felt like it was popping out of her chest on each beat. Air wheezed into her lungs. Sweat popped up along her forehead and between her shoulder blades.

  All she could do was whisper “Holy fuck…holy fuck…holy fuck…” while rocking back and forth.

  “Hey,” Abby said, her voice taking on a stern tone. “Look at me.”

  Tessa shook her head. “Can’t. Can’t. Oh my God…”

  “Mommy,” Sophia called from the other room. “I ca
n’t find the Band-Aids.”

  When Tessa didn’t respond, Abby said, “Mommy’s fine. Why don’t you get dressed for the day?”

  “All by myself? Why?” The shocked, borderline you’ve-got-to-be-kidding tone in Sophia’s voice forced a huff from Tessa.

  “You’ve been nagging me for weeks to let you do it yourself,” Abby told her. “Show me what you can do.”

  “Oh-kay,” she said with an if-you-say-so, but-I-don’t-think-it’s-going-to-go-very-well tone.

  Abby pulled Tessa’s hands to her lap and held them there. “It’ll take her forever. Talk to me.”

  Tessa pulled her hands from Abby’s grip and shook them to relieve the tension building into painful tingles. “That’s who I…” she whispered, clenching her fingers into fists again. “Oh my God. That’s who I was with last night.”

  Abby glanced at the television and the two images, which had been moved to the left side of the screen, overlaying an action shot of one of them—presumably Zach—surfing through an enormous wave.

  “Oh God.” Tessa pushed to her feet and paced toward the sliding glass door.

  “Tessa—”

  Something sliced into her foot. Tessa sucked air through her teeth and took her weight off that foot. “Dammit.”

  She hobbled to the door, balanced on the jamb, and pulled a sliver of ceramic from her foot. And swore again. Then slumped against the jamb.

  Abby met her at the door and murmured, “Which one did you sleep with? Please tell me it was Ian.”

  “I thought it was Ian.” She rubbed her damp forehead with her palm. “I feel sick.”

  “You said Zach left town, so it couldn’t have been him, right?”

  Tessa had never felt this stupid in her entire life. But this was worse than stupid, this was… If she were honest, if she were objective, she’d label hooking up with the father of the child she wanted to adopt—before he’d signed the papers—negligent.

  Only she hadn’t done it knowingly or willfully.

  She’d been misled.

  Or maybe she’d misled herself.

  God, she couldn’t think straight.

  Abby leaned against the opposite doorjamb and crossed her arms. “I guess the good news is that we know where he is now.”