Enemy Waters

by Justine Davis

  She’d dressed in her usual jeans but wore a blue, long-sleeved, lightweight sweater. No shoes, only matching, heavy blue socks.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, looking at the sweater and trying not to focus solely on curves usually hidden by the loose T-shirts she favored. “I can kick up the heat.”

  She blinked. “There’s a heater?”

  He grinned. “Forced air, and air-conditioning, too, in case of a run to the tropics. All the comforts of home.”

  “Oh. Nice.”

  She walked toward him, brushing a stray lock of hair back from her forehead. Her hair was a little tousled, and her eyes—

  Were blue. A bright, vivid, startling blue.

  “No wonder you went with the brown contacts,” he said. “Your eyes would be…hard to forget.”

  She looked at the floor, as if she were self-conscious—or worried—about the lack of camouflage. “It’s nice not to have to mess with them.”

  “So you don’t really need them or the glasses at all?”

  She shook her head. Yawned.

  “Did you sleep?”

  Her gaze lifted to his face. “I did,” she said, sounding somewhat surprised. “The water, the sounds…I thought it would all keep me awake, but I slept.”

  Unlike me, he thought. Obviously she hadn’t been tormented with the same kind of thoughts he had. Figured. Why would she be when, from her point of view, he’d ruined everything for her?

  “Good,” he said, his thoughts making his voice a little brusque. “Hungry?”

  “Not really, not yet.”

  “Coffee’s on. Won’t be as good as the café’s, but it’s hot and full of caffeine.”

  “Thanks. I—” Her words broke off abruptly. “The café,” she whispered.

  He’d been expecting this. She’d had some sleep now, was in a fairly safe place, off Brown’s radar, so now her mind turned to the fallout. She was starting to realize that her world had been shattered yet again. Yesterday the fear had carried her through, the need for haste had prevented her from dwelling on it. This morning, all that was gone, leaving her with nothing but the grim facts.

  “You were leaving anyway,” he said.

  “But not like this. I was going to—”

  “Say goodbye?” He stood up, closed the three feet between them in a single stride. “Better to wait, and say hello again when you go back.”

  She shivered. And he couldn’t help himself, he put his arms around her, wanting to share warmth, to stop that faint trembling that shook him to his soul.

  And he took heart from the simple fact that she didn’t push him away. “You make it sound possible,” she whispered.

  “It is. It will be.”

  She shook her head in disbelief. He didn’t try to convince her, not now. He sensed she was still too shaken by her ex—hell, that’s what he was—showing up when she thought she was safe to believe anything good right now.

  The logistics of getting away had distracted her yesterday, he thought. Maybe more logistics would help today. He held on to her one last moment, savoring the feel of her in his arms, then let go.

  “There’s that little grocery just outside the park,” he said. “I thought I’d go stock up.”

  “Go?”

  She looked startled, even scared. He wasn’t foolish enough to think she was sorry he’d let go of her, or even that she’d miss him while he was gone. She was just wary of being alone right now, with Brown out there, somewhere.

  “I’m thinking you should stay here,” he said. “Not be seen. I don’t think he’s going to find us anytime soon, but it’s best to be cautious.”

  He heard her take in a deep breath, as if she were trying to steady herself.

  “All right,” she said after a moment.

  Her voice was solid, strong. And it had taken her only moments. She was finding herself again.

  “Give me a list of anything you want. Don’t know if they’ll have it, but I’ll look. Better grab the chance now.”

  “How long?”

  His brow furrowed. “How long will it take, or how long should you stock up for?”

  Her mouth quirked. “Yes.”

  He couldn’t help grinning at her. “I should only be gone an hour or so.”

  She frowned. It was disconcerting, seeing her eyes, he’d gotten so used to them being that medium brown that the bright blue was still a shock.

  “How will you carry it all?”

  He smiled as her mind turned to the practicalities first. She had her fear under control now, he thought.

  “I’ve got a big backpack. Between that and what bags I can carry, I should be able to get all we need. Unless you want wine every night.”

  She shook her head, then went still. “Every night? So stock up for a long stay?”

  “Better safe,” he said. “Who knows how long we’ll need to figure out a way to take him down?”

  Her breath caught audibly. “You sound so positive.”

  “I am. There’s a way, we just have to find it.”

  “But he’s—”

  “I know what he is.” He grimaced. “This morning I did the homework I should have done before.”

  “Then you know. He’s untouchable.”

  “No one’s untouchable. At least, no one swimming in the ponds he frequents. There will be something. Some way.” He still saw doubt clearly in her face. “But for now, let’s just get organized. Then when you’re ready, we’ll start brainstorming.”

  “You really think we have time?”

  “Some, yes. If Roger’s misdirection worked, that’ll really slow him down. He might eventually find out about The Peacemaker, but that’ll take him more time.”

  “He doesn’t know you live on a boat?”

  He shook his head, one corner of his mouth twisting upward wryly. “Some people don’t take you seriously if you don’t have an office, an assistant and a ton of file cabinets, so I don’t make a habit of advertising it.”

  She tilted her head slightly, giving him a quizzical look. “You don’t like offices?”

  He started to make his standard joke about office walls being the same as house walls, and that he preferred to be free of both. And it was true, as far as it went. But something about the way she was looking at him, or perhaps simply that it was her, made him give her the bare bones facts.

  “I can afford an office, or I can keep The Peacemaker. I can’t do both.”

  “And The Peacemaker is more important to you.”

  “Yes.”

  “Because it was your father’s.”

  “She was his dream. He wanted to sail her around the world when he retired.”

  Her brows rose. She looked around at the interior of the vessel. “And your mom was up for that?”

  “Not so much, but she would have done it,” he said. “She always said wherever he was was home for her.”

  She blinked, then again, more rapidly, and he thought he saw the sheen of moisture in those very blue eyes. “That’s…”

  She didn’t finish, as if words had failed her.

  “Love,” he said. “They had something special.”

  She lapsed into silence, but he could see in her face she was thinking of how it had ended, how tragedy had destroyed that love.

  “Is it worth it?” she said, almost to herself.

  “I don’t know,” he answered.

  It was a question he’d wrestled with ever since he’d been old enough to understand the magnitude of losing someone you loved like that.

  It was a question his mother would unfailingly answer Yes.

  It was a question he couldn’t answer at all. Because he didn’t know if he was even capable of loving someone like that.

  And that he was even thinking about it made him restless. Almost as restless as spending the night just a few feet away from Nell. Because he had the uneasy feeling she was the reason his mind was delving into areas he was more comfortable ignoring.

  The simple fact was that h
e was so hot for her he was surprised the sound wasn’t boiling around them.

  Chapter 25

  This was crazy, Nell thought, as she tore lettuce into pieces.

  Jeremy was out there somewhere, moving whatever mountains his money could move to find her. Yet they were just sitting here, as if they were on some kind of boating vacation, as if they had all the time in the world. Cooper was puttering around in the galley, getting ready to grill steaks on the small barbecue that was fastened to one of the railings on the outside deck at the stern of The Peacemaker.

  He’d said nothing more about their situation all day. And if she tried to bring it up, he hushed her with a quiet but definite “Later.” And had continued on as if this was nothing more than an enjoyable interlude.

  Not that it wasn’t pleasant. In fact, it was downright soothing. There was a feeling of safety in being offshore. It was as if the water was their own private moat, protecting the floating castle from invaders.

  Or dragons.

  It was the most whimsical thought she’d had in years, and it made her smile. But reality was still out there, and she knew if she forgot that safety was an illusion, she might relearn the lesson the hard way. The hardest possible way.

  What if what had happened at the cottage yesterday had turned ugly, had turned into a replay of what had happened that night months ago? Cooper had stood with her, had intervened, and if Jeremy had been armed, as he had been that night, it could have ended up much the same way.

  Unless…did he have a weapon himself? She’d seen no sign of one, but he was a private investigator—didn’t they have them? Of course, he’d said “Of sorts.” Did that mean he didn’t have the licenses and permits necessary?

  “I like the first thought better.”

  She nearly jumped as he spoke from bare inches behind her. “What?”

  “The one that made you smile.”

  She let out a self-disgusted breath. She’d been lost in her musings, not a wise path when you had someone like Jeremy on your trail.

  “Silliness,” she said.

  “I think you’re overdue for a little silliness. What was it?”

  She glanced around, gesturing at the large windows and the water outside. “Castles and moats,” she said.

  “And safety?” he asked quietly, clearly remembering what she’d once said to him about the illusion.

  “And dragons,” she said, and it wasn’t at all amusing this time.

  “Dragons still have to find you,” he said. “And even dragons have their vulnerabilities. Otherwise there’d be more of them. You’d be running into them on every street corner.”

  For an instant she just gaped at him. The image he’d just planted in her head was irresistible. He grinned as if he knew it. And for the first time in longer than she could remember, she honestly, openly and thoroughly laughed.

  “Now that,” Cooper said with obvious satisfaction, “is a sound worth slaying dragons for.”

  She felt her cheeks heat. She’d thought herself long beyond blushing, thought her life with Jeremy had beaten the reaction out of her, yet this man had made her do it twice in less than twenty-four hours.

  And as he walked out onto the deck, she busied herself with the salad she’d been making, trying not to think of the last time he’d done it. Last night.

  I didn’t assume that kiss, hot as it was, was a signal you’re ready to sleep with me. No matter how much I wish it had been.

  A shiver rippled through her, a shiver that had nothing to do with air temperature and everything to do with the blast of heat that shot through her, radiating out from some deeply buried place she had thought long dead.

  Would he laugh if he knew the real reason she’d slept last night was the faint scent of him in the cabin, in his bed? If he knew how she’d wrapped it around her unsettled mind and calmed herself with it?

  If he knew how much she had wanted to accept that invitation, how much she wished she could “feel free” enough to go to him? How she’d actually ached for him, in a way she’d never known?

  He might not laugh—he wasn’t a cruel man—but it was certainly laugh-worthy. Was she still that weak, that foolish, that she would once again turn to the nearest strong man for shelter, protection?

  Not that Cooper was anything like Jeremy. He wasn’t. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t turning to him for the same reasons. The fault was in her, not him. She was looking for safety again, and it didn’t exist. Hadn’t she learned that yet?

  Of course, there was that little matter of heat and need and a body suddenly in overdrive. Now that was new. That, she’d never felt in her life before. Had thought it was a creation of human imagination, over the eons. Until now.

  And she didn’t want to think about it from his side. Why the interest in the plain little thing she’d made herself into? Even without the purposely unflattering glasses, the image she’d met in the mirror this morning, weary eyes, no makeup, wasn’t in the least eye-catching to her. Of course, guys looked at it differently, didn’t they? Maybe he just wanted sex with her because she was female, and handy. Maybe he just wanted sex with her because he just wanted sex.

  That was all it could be, really. Wasn’t it?

  She hadn’t really been watching what she was doing, but suddenly the salad bowl came into focus, and she realized that if she didn’t stop, they’d be eating coleslaw-style lettuce, she was shredding it so finely.

  She stopped, put her hands down on the counter. The galley—she knew that much, at least—was compact, room for two people only if they were intimate enough that they would have shared that bed last night.

  She looked around for something to do, to distract her from being alone. They had hand-washed the dishes from last night—the boat held three hundred gallons, Cooper had said, and there was a water maker, a small desalinization plant aboard—but still no need to be profligate when they weren’t at a dock and hooked up to shore supplies, and needed to take showers and such.

  She could do that, she thought. While he was gone. Except…if something happened, she’d be beyond vulnerable, naked and wet. She should wait until Cooper was back.

  Oh, yes, do that. Wait until he’s back on board to get naked and wet.

  The image and all the possible meanings sent ripples of alternating heat and chill through her until she thought she might truly be going insane.

  She hurried down the corridor to the master stateroom he’d given over to her. She could have easily stayed in the smaller guest quarters; it was just as nicely turned out, merely smaller. But the head was across the hall instead of directly attached, so the master gave her more privacy. It had been a thoughtful gesture, one that Jeremy certainly never would have made. He would have kept the best for himself and always had.

  As she investigated the workings, then showered, she thought about how her world had truly been turned inside out. She never would have imagined ending up on a boat at all, let alone one anchored nowhere near anything she knew.

  She’d gone from one life, where change was to be avoided, living with a man who liked everything just so, to building a life of her own where she—

  She abruptly stopped her own thoughts. But she couldn’t deny what would have come next: a life of her own where she liked everything just so. And was wary—no, downright afraid—of changes.

  She finished briskly, tried to focus on drying off and getting dressed quickly. But the thoughts remained, circling, demanding to be faced.

  So what had she gained? True, she’d been out from under Jeremy’s thumb, but if she just re-created the same kind of carefully unchanging life, what had she done except change masters?

  And now she was tangled up with a guy who thrived on change. Who moved around like some restless vagabond, who had no roots, nothing but an anchor that held him in one place for a while but could be lifted at any moment to move on.

  She walked across the salon to where there were three pictures fastened between two of the big windows. The top one was
of a man in the pilothouse, sitting at the big wheel, with a young boy on his lap. The man was looking back over his shoulder at the photographer, a smile of pure joy on his face. A smile reminiscent of the killer grin of his son—who, in the photograph, was looking up at his father with nothing short of adoration. The man had one hand on the wheel, and his other arm was wrapped securely and protectively around the boy, who looked to be about twelve in the picture.

  The pang at the future that lay ahead so soon for that loving pair made her close her eyes. She wondered how Cooper stood it, having that reminder here every day. Then she realized his father had probably put it there himself, and Cooper certainly wasn’t going to change it. And maybe it had always been there, so he didn’t really see it, the way people never saw things they walked by every day.

  She opened her eyes, but looked at the second picture this time. It didn’t help much; it was a young man in a police uniform, looking stern as such pictures always seemed to, posed in front of a flowing American flag. There was an undeniable resemblance between father and son, especially visible in this photo, where she guessed he was a little younger than Cooper was now. She wondered how his mother felt, looking at him and seeing so much of the man she’d loved in the son left behind. Did she take solace in it, or was it a painful reminder of a love lost?

  Both, she thought, remembering how seeing the traces of their mother in Tristan’s green eyes and auburn hair had both comforted her and made her feel the occasional ache of loss. She herself took after their father, something she had tried to ignore since the day he’d vanished from their lives. She tried, and mostly succeeded, in never thinking about him at all.

  She shifted her gaze to the third and last photograph. Cooper, dressed in graduation robes, in front of the roaring cougar symbol of Washington State University. He was standing next to a petite, slender woman dressed in a pale green suit and wearing a smile full of pride tinged with wistfulness. Around them in a half circle were three men, all with the same air of competence and toughness.

  She studied the faces, the expressions that seemed to hold a combination of sadness and satisfaction. Similar to the look on the woman’s face. Pride in her son, obviously, but also sadness that his father wasn’t there to see this day.