By Lynnette Bonner
ISLANDS OF INTRIGUE: SAN JUANS
Christian Romantic Suspense
The Unrelenting Tide – Lynnette Bonner
BOOK ONE
Tide Will Tell – Lesley Ann McDaniel
BOOK TWO
Coming Winter 2013
Deceptive Tide – Janalyn Voigt
BOOK THREE
Coming Spring 2014
Other books by Lynnette Bonner
THE SHEPHERD’S HEART SERIES
Christian Historical Romance
Rocky Mountain Oasis
BOOK ONE
High Desert Haven
BOOK TWO
Fair Valley Refuge
BOOK THREE
Spring Meadow Sanctuary
BOOK FOUR
Find out more at LynnetteBonner.com
The Unrelenting Tide
ISLANDS OF INTRIGUE: SAN JUANS, Book 1
Copyright © 2013 by Lynnette Bonner. All rights reserved.
Cover design by Lynnette Bonner, images ©
www.fotolia.com, File: #1068872_M
www.fotolia.com, File: #13338057_M
www.fotolia.com, File: #4783919_XL
Author photo © Emily Hinderman, EMH Photography
Scripture taken from The Message. Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group.
ISBN: 978-1484862155
The Unrelenting Tide is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. All other characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination.
Printed in the U.S.A.
John 15:12-13
This is my command:
Love one another the way I loved you.
This is the very best way to love.
Put your life on the line for your friends.
Chapter 1
A scream gargled at the back of Devynne Lang’s throat, jolting her from terrorized slumber. With a whimper she kicked back covers tangled against damp legs, yanked open the nightstand drawer, and fumbled for the familiar feel of her .38 special.
The rubberized, laser-trigger grip felt cool against her palm. She gave a firm squeeze. The red laser light pierced the darkness beside the balcony curtains. Through the bathroom door. Into the black maw of her closet. Her gaze jerked from corner to corner, scrutinizing each shadow, each waver of light.
Nothing.
Her own ragged breathing registered and she blinked slowly. Pulled in a long full inhale, then released it along with some tension.
No one was here. It was the nightmare.
Again.
Running a hand back through her hair, she glanced down. She knelt in the middle of her bed, t-shirt and shorts plastered with sweat, knees denting sheets so jumbled it seemed a wrestling match had taken place. The angry red numbers of the clock on the nightstand read 4:30am.
If Marissa stayed true to form she would be up in a couple of hours begging to watch Nickelodeon while she ate her breakfast.
Devynne sank back against her ankles. Best she get on with her day. She took one more calming breath, then forced her legs over the edge of the bed.
Pulling back the floor length curtains, she peered out onto the deck and gave the slider a tug to make sure it was still locked. The faint gleam of morning, just beginning to peek above the islands across the way, tinged the water gray and outlined the evergreen trees in the back yard stark black against the sky. All was as it should be.
Still, to be safe, she padded across the hall and checked Marissa’s room. No one behind the door. No one in the closet – the light was still on, just as she’d left it the night before when she tucked Marissa in. The only sound was the soft sonorous breaths the four-year-old made from under her Disney princess blanket on the canopied bed.
She crept down the stairs from the top level of her tri-story. Checked the kitchen, guest bath, living room, and the deck’s sliding door in the same way she’d done upstairs. No one on the middle level and the back door in the kitchen was still locked too.
A quick flip of the light switch in the sewing room on the bottom floor, revealed it was also empty. The slider to its deck also remained locked.
Relief eased a little more of the strain – what she needed now was a hot shower to wash away the last vestiges.
Back in her room, she returned the Smith & Wesson Airweight to the nightstand, locked the drawer and took the key into the bathroom with her, hanging it high on the corner of the mirror like she did every morning.
She slapped on the hot water and let it run as she thought over her day.
Carcen was coming this morning to take Marissa to his team’s summer basketball game. He had mentioned the game several times this week and she knew he was a bit nervous for the varsity boys he coached, even though he wouldn’t have admitted it for anything.
Devynne pulled the shower curtain shut and stepped under the hot spray.
She would need to get Mrs. Abernathy’s quilt finished soon. She’d better concentrate on that one today. One little misstep on that project and Mrs. Abernathy would be sure to let the world know what a disaster her dealings with The Healing Quilt had been. Devynne couldn’t afford the bad publicity. The company she’d started after her husband’s death four years previous, had been her only means of support since.
The Seattle Quilters’ Guild had called yesterday and left a message to see if she could machine quilt three king size, a queen, and two double quilts in the next couple weeks.
Thank you God for the extra work. The bills had been piling up for awhile now.
She rinsed the shampoo out of her hair and thought of the account she hadn’t touched since she’d fled California six years ago. How much money would be in it now?
Don’t go there.
Marissa’s safety was too important to ever go back for that money. Shania Hane, up-and-coming actress, had died on a cold February day six years ago – at least that was the story she’d paid her agent to tell – and Shania Hane needed to remain dead.
For now.
Marissa would need a good college education someday. Maybe then they would go back for the money. Maybe.
For now, it was too dangerous.
So, even though it would mean several late nights over the days to come, she would call the guild today and agree to take on the extra pieces.
She cranked the shower head to the massage setting and rolled her neck through the pounding water letting it beat away the last of the tension and adrenaline. She could have stood there all day, but the scent of freshly brewed coffee from her programmable pot lured her back to reality, and she shut off the tap.
The towel soft against her skin, she dried off, wrapped up, and stepped out into her room to grab her jeans and a t-shirt.
She froze.
Her night stand drawer stood cracked open, the key hanging from the lock in the front face.
The room’s lights were on now. A quick scan proved she was alone. Hadn’t she just put her gun in there, locked it, and hung the key in the bathroom?
Marissa!
She rushed to the drawer half expecting to find it empty, but the gun lay right where she always left it. Hurrying to snatch it up, she knocked it against the drawer. It tumbled from her grasp and landed on her foot.
She grunted as pain sliced across her arch, but grabbed it up again and raced across the hallway to Maris
sa’s room, checking the loads as she went. All chambers held rounds.
Heart thudding so hard she could feel the beat of it as she clutched the towel close, she pushed open Marissa’s door with one foot and stepped into the room, gun at the ready.
Nothing ahead. Nothing left, or right. The closet light still cast golden illumination across the Sleeping Beauty castle-shaped rug. Deep, undisturbed breathing still resonated.
Devynne slumped against the wall and leaned her head back. Thank you, Jesus!
Just that quickly she resumed her vigil. Someone could still be here!
No one was under the bed – she’d purposely gotten Marissa a high bed, and insisted she not store any toys underneath for times just like this – and the morning light streaming in from the window gleamed unbroken beneath it now. There was nowhere else to hide.
No one was here. Please God, let that be true.
A quick check through the rest of the levels, each deck, window, and door, revealed she and Marissa were the only ones in the house. And everything was still locked up.
Back in her room, she collapsed onto the edge of the bed and scooped damp hair away from her face with a trembling hand.
She was losing her mind.
She glanced down at the nightstand. There was no explanation other than she’d only thought she put the gun away and locked the drawer.
If Marissa had woken while she was in the shower and found the gun…
Her whole body shook at that thought. How could she have been so careless?
Tears pricked her eyes and exhaustion washed over her. She wanted nothing more than to flop over, pull the covers up to her neck, and not get up for another eight hours. The unending string of long days and late nights had been weighing heavy for the past few weeks.
She blinked hard. Get a grip!
She could do this. She had to do this. A little girl across the hall needed her mommy to be strong, keep her fed, and keep a roof over her head. And Mommy wasn’t going to let her down. Not in a million years.
She laid the gun back into the drawer. Shut it and locked it. Tested the drawer to make sure it wouldn’t open. Then pulled on it one more time, for good measure. Satisfied that she had indeed locked the gun away this time, she stood.
Pain knifed through her right foot. She gasped and looked down.
A gash across the top of her foot seeped blood.
She grimaced. Great start to the day, Devynne. Just great.
Chapter 2
The growl of Carcen’s truck out in the driveway grated in dissonant contrast to the purr of her sewing machine. So he’d arrived. Good. She’d felt jittery and tense all morning – getting up every ten minutes to check on Marissa, double check that they were alone in the house, and verify that the doors were still locked. Maybe now, with Marissa off at the game with Carcen’s parents she would be able to get some work done.
“Rissa! Uncle Carcen’s here to take you to the game!”
“Yay!” The thunder of small feet pounded down the stairs from the top floor.
“Don’t open the door till I get there!” Sighing, Devynne threw the quilt piece she was working on over her shoulder and stood. Pain flamed through her foot and she snatched a breath. She’d been using it on the sewing machine pedal, but apparently standing on it was a different matter altogether. Gritting her teeth and forcing herself to walk as normally as possible, she made her way up to the middle level.
She stopped at the top of the stairwell just in time to see Marissa launch herself into the arms of her uncle, who had just stepped through the kitchen door. Her heart gave an extra thump and she reminded herself to batten down her emotions.
But as she watched Carcen blow a raspberry against Marissa’s neck, she cringed and aggravation with her daughter washed through her. She leaned a shoulder into one wall. What if it hadn’t been Carcen? She should have come upstairs quicker and made Marissa wait until she was a hundred percent certain it was Carcen at the door. In their small community Marissa had a bad habit of throwing the door open to whoever rang the bell. She’d talked to her about it a hundred times, but it looked like she’d have to talk with her again.
Carcen bumped the door shut with his foot and swung the four-year-old around and around.
Marissa clung to him tightly, giggling all the while, her dark curls swirling about her face.
When Carcen finally stopped his dizzying twirl, the little girl gazed up into his face, her large, brown eyes wide with excitement. “Do it ‘gain, Uncle Cawce. Do it ‘gain.”
Carcen threw back his head on a laugh.
Devynne’s heart squeezed and gave a double-thump that she did her best to ignore. Carcen was so much like Kent had been, yet so different at the same time. The same lithe, athletic form. The same sense of fun-loving humor. The same curls, but blond more than brown. When would the sight of him quit bringing pain? And when had it started making her wonder what it might be like to be in a man’s arms again? Her face heated and she was glad all his attention was focused on her four-year-old.
Now he gaped down at Marissa. “Do it again?!” Hugging her close to his chest, he staggered past Devynne into the living room, pretending to be drop-down-dizzy, the little pixy swaying crazily in his arms. “I can’t even walk straight!”
“Yo’ silly, Uncle Cawce.” Marissa cupped his stubbled cheeks in her tiny hands and looked him right in the eye. “Are you weally gonna play the meanest team in the lake?”
He chuckled, a deep rumble from his chest, and glanced over at her as he set Marissa on her feet.
Devynne suppressed her own humor, remembering that when he had called to ask if Marissa could accompany him and his parents to the basketball game he had emphasized to Marissa that she would have a great time watching his team pulverize the ‘meanest team in the league’.
“League, honey, not lake.” Devynne stepped fully into the living room and smoothed the girl’s curls as she spoke. “A league is a group of teams that play against each other. And what have I told you about opening the door?”
Marissa hung her head. “I pulled back the cuwtain and see’d it was Uncle Cawce befowe I opened it.”
Carcen nodded his agreement to that statement.
She sighed. “Well, if you’re going to watch Uncle Carcen’s team play the meanest team in the league you’d better go get your shoes on.”
Wide eyed, the little girl rounded her mouth in a silent ‘oh’ as she glanced mischievously down at her wiggling toes. Peeking up at her uncle through her bangs, she rolled her eyes as if to say ‘oh my goodness she’s right’ and quickly whirled, racing to the third floor without a word.
Carcen turned the full force of his breath-stopping-blues on Devynne, his face suddenly turning serious. He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks, his purple Friday Harbor High School polo stretching taut across his shoulders. “How are you?”
“Fine.” A noose of dread cinched around her chest and she met his gaze for only a second before she looked down, knowing what his next question would be.
“Why don’t you come with us?”
She smiled placatingly, answer ready. “I can’t this time. I have this quilt I need to finish for Mrs. Abernathy’s new cabin.” She gestured to the piece on her shoulder. “It’s the last one she ordered and I have to have it done soon. Maybe another time.”
Her gaze flickered to his for a scant second, yet in that brief moment she saw the truth on his face. He knew. She started up the stairwell. “I’ll go make sure her shoes get on the right feet.”
She just couldn’t bring herself to go out. The old fears always rode her hard. Always the feel of someone watching her. And that didn’t even take into consideration the guilt over Kent’s death, which most likely had been her fault.
She sighed as she trudged up the tan, carpeted treads, trying not to limp even as pain throbbed.
Grandma used to say trouble came in packs. So true. Hers had been rolling in, one wave after another, for the last seven ye
ars. An unrelenting tide of pain and misery.
She knew for Marissa’s sake she probably needed to get out more. But when it came to getting back into the swing of life it was simply easier, and safer, to keep to herself. After that terrible day at Island Grocers she had felt guilty - somehow unfaithful - going out and enjoying herself when Kent wasn’t around to enjoy life with her. Now, she dreaded the looks of pity and curiosity she was sure to get from everyone. Things were easier when she kept to herself. Not to mention diminishing the likelihood that someone might recognize her.
She had joy enough right here at home.
Even now, she smiled as she eased the weight off her foot and leaned in her daughter’s doorway, watching her try to fasten her sandals.
Tongue caught between her teeth, little face scrunched up into a mask of concentration, she attempted to thread the small metal clasp into the correct hole, then rolled her eyes in frustration. Never mind that the shoe was already on the wrong foot.
Devynne knelt before her. “Here look. This shoe goes on the other foot. See the toe of the shoe? Your big toe goes here at this pointier part. Let Mom help you so you won’t keep Uncle Carcen waiting.”
Marissa pushed herself to her feet and scampered over to sit in Devynne’s lap. She held up one pudgy foot at a time and Devynne worked the shoes over stubborn heels and fastened the clasps. Shoes on, the tyke turned and hugged her tight. “I wuv you, Mama. Want to come?”
Devynne smiled softly, but she suddenly sensed Carcen in the doorway behind them. She glanced over her shoulder.
He leaned there, arms folded, a slight frown puckering his brow.
How was it he always walked with stealthy, cat-like silence? She rarely heard him approach, but could always seem to sense when he was there. Right now she could feel the disapproval rolling off him in waves. He had voiced, on more than one occasion, his opinion that she should quit feeling sorry for herself and start living again.
The Unrelenting Tide (Islands of Intrigue: San Juans - Christian Romantic Suspense) Page 1