As they came closer to the landing, late afternoon fog rolled in from the Pacific, settling over the island like a shroud. The creepy old Victorian seemed to rise out of the mist. A few hundred yards beyond the shore, smoke curled from the mouth of Skull Rock.
Earlier, he and Jason had discussed their concerns about the ruined engine. Although it seemed far-fetched, they had to consider the possibility that an intruder had set foot on the island. “Promise me you won’t wander off alone again,” he said to Daniela. “It isn’t safe here, considering what happened yesterday.”
Her brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“Jason thinks the engine may have been sabotaged.”
“By whom? The seal-skinner?”
He sighed, shaking his head. “The cage-divers have a Zodiac, and we’ve had some run-ins with them in the past.”
“About chumming?”
“Yeah. I asked them to stop. They told me to piss off.”
She cast him a chiding glance. “I suppose you said a polite goodbye after that.”
Actually, he’d called the crew leader an asshole, when push had come to shove. “I was at least as polite as they were,” he muttered. “Until we find out what went wrong, you shouldn’t wander off alone. Neither should Taryn or Elizabeth.”
“What about you and the other men?”
“We can defend ourselves.”
Her eyes wandered across his torso, and a tiny crease appeared between her brows. Before they got married, he’d given her a couple of lessons in self-defense. Small, feminine and beautiful, she was an ideal target for a predator.
Maybe she was thinking about kneeing him in the groin, one of the moves he’d taught her, because her gaze dropped to the fly of his jeans. Or maybe she was recalling his inappropriate arousal during one of those demonstrations, which had devolved into a playful wrestling match and steamy sex on the floor.
She looked away, a faint blush tingeing her cheeks. “Fine,” she said. “I won’t go anywhere alone.”
Her acquiescence wasn’t much of a victory, and he didn’t feel any better for having it. He needed a cold shower and a hot meal, in that order, but he knew he wouldn’t be satisfied with those things, either. It was Daniela’s turn to cook. Eating with her used to be a sensual experience. Now, he’d probably choke on his regrets.
He couldn’t wait to get off this miserable island. Being here with her was like descending into a new level of hell.
Before going in, she took him by the hand, surprising him. “I just need to tell you…I was wrong. Everything that happened was my fault. I’m sorry I pushed you away.” Her eyes searched his for a moment, cutting straight to the heart.
He wanted to say she was mistaken, that his inability to console her had been far more detrimental to their relationship, but the words stuck in his throat. While he faltered, trying to pull himself together, she disappeared inside the house.
Several long, arduous moments passed before he was able to follow.
Daniela was tired of crying.
She cracked a couple of eggs into a bowl with more force than was necessary, mixing the ingredients with shaking hands.
There were too many conflicting feelings to sort through, too many confusing thoughts and words and images. No matter what Sean said, she knew he wanted her, and her body throbbed in response to his arousal.
Maybe it was hopeless, and they were destined to be apart. She couldn’t figure it out right now. Instead of trying, she worked her fingers into the tamale dough, squeezing it into submission. Pounding its flat, expressionless face.
“Pretending that’s Sean?”
She looked from the ceramic bowl to Jason’s knowing smile. “Why would I do that?” she asked, blowing the bangs off her forehead.
“Because he deserves it.”
“For what?”
He held her gaze. “Being such a fool as to lose you.”
Daniela frowned, wondering why he was flirting with her when he was clearly interested in another woman. “You have a problem,” she decided, returning her attention to kneading.
“I know,” he said with a heavy sigh.
“Elizabeth won’t go for you if your attention wanders easily.”
“That does present a challenge,” he agreed.
“Why do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Let your eye rove.”
He paused, considering. “I guess I’m looking for something I haven’t found yet. Or maybe I just have a short attention span.” His mouth twisted with dissatisfaction, as if he didn’t like that about himself. “Did Sean’s eye never rove?”
“His eye? Yes.” Like most men, Sean had noticed other women. Before the accident, it hadn’t bothered her. “He might have looked, but he didn’t linger.”
“Hmm.”
“You linger.”
“Lingering is much more fun.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Are you going to help me make these tamales, or keep trying to have your wicked way with me?”
“You aren’t even tempted. I must be losing my touch.”
“I don’t think so.”
His gaze darkened. “Now you’re encouraging me.”
“If I did, you’d get bored.”
“I doubt it.”
Daniela smiled, thinking Elizabeth would have some stiff competition if she wasn’t so hung up on Sean. “Have you ever wrapped corn husks?”
“No. We use banana leaves on the islands.”
“Same idea,” she said, placing a small amount of dough in the center of an unwrapped husk, demonstrating the technique. After adding the meat filling, she closed the edges of the husk and tied it up into a neat little package.
Jason watched carefully, mimicking her movements. He was a very quick study.
They continued making tamales together, falling into an easy rhythm. She had no siblings and few close friends, most of whom she’d alienated over the past two years. The only person she communicated with on a regular basis was Mamá, who meant well but failed to provide unconditional support.
When the tamales were finished steaming, she brought them out to the living room, along with a pitcher of juice and a large platter of mixed vegetables and rice. Jason had beer with his meal, but Sean wasn’t drinking. He’d been tense since he came downstairs, watching her put food on the table in quiet contemplation.
“So what’s up with the engine?” Brent asked, taking a seat next to Sean. “Seems kind of weird that the oars were missing.”
“Yes,” Jason said, glancing at Daniela. “It does. I can’t rule out the possibility that it was tampered with.”
Brent’s brows rose. “You think someone came onto the island again?”
“Maybe. We’ve had some static from the guys who run the cage-diving operation. Last season, they tried a new kind of chum, some noxious mixture with blood meal and tuna parts. The whole island reeked like fish ass.”
Taryn wrinkled her nose, as if remembering the smell. “Jason went out to talk to them about it, and the discussion almost came to blows.”
“Bastards,” he said, taking another bite. “They’d rather fight than talk. Sean exchanged some strong words with them the season before, too.”
Brent arched a brow. “Strong words, from Sean?”
“They started it,” he muttered.
“Do you think they hold a grudge?”
“It’s possible.”
“How would they access the island?”
Jason swallowed a mouthful of rice before he spoke. “They have an inflatable boat.”
“The cage-divers come on weekends,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Today’s Friday.”
“Right,” Jason said. “I think we should use the buddy system from now on. Stay in radio contact, and don’t go off alone.”
Elizabeth bristled. “I’m the only ornithologist. It doesn’t make any sense for anyone to hang out with me at the bird blind.”
“I’d be happy to escort you,” Jason s
aid.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “For what purpose? I seriously doubt that anyone has been sneaking around on the island.”
“Who do you think sabotaged the engine, if not them?” Brent asked.
Elizabeth pushed aside her plate. Her face was pale and serious. “Maybe you did.”
His jaw went slack. “Why would I do it?”
“For your stupid documentary,” she said in a scathing tone. “You probably skinned the seal to create drama. And you’d sell your soul for some shark attack footage.”
The tension in the room skyrocketed. Elizabeth’s accusation was wild, and insulting—but was it off base?
“No,” Brent said quietly. “I wouldn’t hurt an animal, and I’d never use footage like that in my work. Not for any price. You, of all people, should know that.”
Her mouth thinned. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“As you wish,” he murmured.
Jason crossed his arms over his chest. “Spill it.”
“It’s not my story to tell,” Brent said.
Elizabeth leaped to her feet, the legs of her chair scraping across the hardwood floor. “There is no story.”
When she hurried toward the door, Jason caught up with her in three easy strides. “Like hell there isn’t,” he said, grabbing her wrist.
Gasping, she drew back her other arm and slapped him across the face. The sound was like the crack of a whip.
Jason released her arm abruptly. The mark of her hand stood out on his dark cheek.
“I’m sorry,” she sputtered, horrified. Before he could react to the blow, she spun away from him and ran out the door.
Stunned, Jason touched the side of his face.
“I’ll go after her,” Taryn said, rising.
Daniela stood also. “Me, too.”
“Hang on,” Sean said, striding toward the door. It was pitch black outside. He looked from Jason to Brent, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “I don’t give a damn whose story it is. If there’s something we need to know, tell us.”
“Fine,” Brent said, defeated. “It’s not that important. Ancient history, really. Let the girls go.”
Taryn pulled her jacket off the hook and put it on. Daniela rushed to do the same. Sean probably didn’t want them to follow Elizabeth anywhere, but she shouldn’t be alone on the cliffs at night, under any circumstances.
“Take the flashlight,” Sean said, handing it to Daniela. “And be careful.”
She donned her wool cap. “Of course. A bit of girl talk and everything will be fine.”
Although he looked as though he wanted to come along, he didn’t press the issue. Elizabeth would be more comfortable with other women. After one last glance at Sean, Daniela walked out the door, and Taryn pulled it shut behind them.
“Don’t turn on the light yet,” Taryn said, studying the landscape. Most of the fog had cleared and a waning moon was out, barely visible through wispy layers of clouds. “There.” Taryn pointed at the path to the tower.
Elizabeth’s gray windbreaker appeared almost white in the moonlight, an ethereal shape ascending the cliff. “She would go that direction,” Daniela muttered. Shouting at her to come back was pointless; their voices would be carried away on the wind. They started walking, turning on the flashlight to illuminate their footsteps.
At night, the pebble-strewn path was twice as dangerous. With painstaking care they made their way up the cliff. Finally, they reached the summit. Elizabeth was standing at the edge of the lighthouse tower, contemplating the pounding surf and jagged cliffs below.
She and Taryn exchanged a worried glance. Daniela didn’t want to startle Elizabeth, who was dangerously close to a sharp drop-off.
“My father committed suicide,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Brent filmed it.”
Daniela sucked in a sharp breath.
“Well, he filmed part of it. He didn’t actually die that time. No, he hung on for years and years, bragging about how he’d cheated death.” She let out a harsh laugh, shaking her head. “He’d cheated death.”
Taryn frowned at her cryptic words. “What do you mean?”
“He was a shark enthusiast. A thrill seeker. He ran adventure tours in Daytona Beach. People would pay to watch him swim with sharks.”
Daniela’s jaw dropped.
“About fifteen years ago, Brent went on one of his tours. He must have been around eighteen at the time. He filmed the attack.”
“Oh my God,” Taryn murmured.
“My father considered that his shining moment,” she said, raising one fist in a mocking salutation. “He’d survived a shark attack! And he wanted to revel in that dubious glory. But Brent wouldn’t release the footage.”
Daniela inched closer.
“Brent stood by while my father risked his life, and continued filming while the shark took his legs.”
“He couldn’t have helped,” Taryn said. “We all know it’s too dangerous to enter the water during an attack.”
“He shouldn’t have been filming at all!”
“Maybe not,” Taryn said. “But that was a long time ago. Don’t you think he made the right decision, about not releasing the footage? It’s not fair to accuse him of wrong-doing now, because of a past mistake.”
Daniela was surprised by Taryn’s calm assurance. It was exactly what Elizabeth needed. Reason, rather than comfort. “I agree,” Daniela said, putting her hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “You should talk to him about it. Work things out.”
Elizabeth flinched, but she didn’t wrench away. “There’s nothing to work out. We don’t have to be friends.”
“Did you know he would be here?” Daniela asked.
“Of course. I thought we could be civil, on the off chance that he recognized me.”
“That wasn’t exactly civil,” Taryn said.
After a significant pause, Elizabeth nodded. “You’re right. I owe him an apology.” With a small grimace, she shook her head. “I’ll have to apologize to Jason, too. And he’s already so damned smug.”
Daniela wanted to continue the conversation, and make sure Elizabeth was really okay, but a light rain began to fall, stinging her cheeks.
“Let’s go in before the path gets slippery,” Taryn recommended.
Hoping the issue would soon be resolved, Daniela started down the path, Taryn and Elizabeth following close behind. She’d feel more relieved once they were inside. The temperature had dropped and the wind had picked up, cutting through her light jacket. Her hands and face were ice cold.
As they rounded the steepest corner, approaching the sheer drop-off into the whirlpool below, she heard a surprised cry behind her.
Taryn stumbled forward, crashing into her back. The flashlight fell from her hands, and Daniela went sprawling, hurtling toward the safety rail. Although she expected a painful impact, the railing gave way with sickening ease.
She experienced a moment of weightlessness, and the bizarre sensation of tumbling through space. She screamed, her arms and legs flailing.
The only thing she hit was water.
Chapter 12
The drop from the cliff to the water was less than twenty feet, but the impact was like a punch to the stomach. The shock of the blow immobilized her and the cold robbed her breath.
She plummeted deep underwater, surrounded by a black abyss.
As soon as she stopped sinking, Daniela began to kick frantically, clawing her way back to the surface. But she was hampered by her wet clothing. The pockets of her jacket had filled with water and her boots felt like sandbags. Taking them off wasn’t an option, because they protected her from the cold, and her first priority was getting air.
She fought hard, all the way to the top, and broke through at long last, opening her mouth to gasp. But her lungs refused to expand. Her body felt numb. A powerful wave crashed over her head, covering her in icy darkness.
Disconnectedly, she wondered how long it would take to drown.
Pinpricks of
light flashed behind her eyelids and the cold seeped in, permeating the layers of her clothing and chilling her to the bone. If she didn’t get some oxygen on her next try, she would die.
And she’d only been in the water a few seconds.
Refusing to give up, she pumped her legs again, moving her arms in frantic paddling motions. The cold had seized her lungs. She felt disembodied, disoriented. Like she was swimming in slush.
Panicking, she let out a silent scream, struggling her way back up to the surface. This time, when she broke through, she was able to fill her lungs with fresh, clean air. She treaded water frantically, gasping for help.
On the cliffs above her, Elizabeth was calling her name, pointing the beam of the flashlight in her direction.
Another wave surged up, splashing her face. Daniela choked and sputtered, tasting salt. “Sean!” she yelled, her voice hoarse with emotion. Never mind that he wasn’t within hearing range; his was the name that leaped to her lips.
“Hang on, Daniela,” Elizabeth called out. “Taryn ran to get help. Stay with me!”
Powerful currents tugged her every which way, smashing her into the rocks, scraping her along the jagged edges. Swimming against the flow was impossible, and there was nowhere to haul herself out. She needed to get a grip on something, anything. And she had to do it quick, because she couldn’t keep her head above water much longer. Already, her muscles were like jelly.
“There,” Elizabeth shouted, shining the beam of light on a section of wet, slippery rock. “Grab on right there, Daniela!”
The surface was perforated with holes, large and small. With her last ounce of strength, Daniela swam for it, straining toward the light. A wave brought her the last few feet, slamming her face so hard she saw stars.
Grimacing, she found a handhold in the rock and clung to it, hanging on for dear life.
Time went by and her arms lost their feeling. She lost count of the number of waves that washed over her. Fear of sharks kept her there, gripping the slippery rocks. It wasn’t as though they were sleeping right now, taking a break from hunting. If she let go and was swept out into the open water, she would be eaten alive.
“Sean,” she whispered, pressing her cheek to the wet rock, as if its chiseled surface were his stubbled jaw.
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