by Lucy Quinn
Cookie bit back another angry retort. She’d already been dismayed when the baby-faced deputy had arrived and she’d asked if the sheriff would be following soon. “Sheriff?” Deputy Swan had replied. “Ma’am, Sheriff Watkins is over in Hancock. I’m the only deputy assigned this island, and she won’t come out here or send anybody else ’less I ask for backup.”
How could an entire island not have its own police force? Cookie had wondered, and still did. Okay, sure, the island’s whole population would probably fit in one high school auditorium. And yes, Secret Seal Isle hardly seemed like a bastion of criminal activity or unrestrained violence. It irked her nonetheless. As did Deputy Swan’s rather cavalier attitude toward the whole thing.
As if reading her mind, Swan laid a heavy hand on her shoulder. “I wouldn’t worry about it,” he assured her. “Like I said, mainland problem. I suggest you go about your business.” Then he crossed to his car, tipped his head in her direction, and quickly climbed into the driver’s seat.
He hadn’t bothered to lock the door, Cookie noted.
She watched the deputy drive away, her fists clenched as she fumed silently.
“Well, he didn’t seem too concerned,” Rain offered, the chain of the hammock squeaking as she swung. She’d covered her exposed chest, thank goodness, and had stayed on the inn’s front porch the entire time, delivering her statement as quickly as possible. Then she’d retreated to the hammock slung from hooks at the far end. Cookie’s mother had never been terribly comfortable with lawmen. “Too many raids when I was young,” she’d once explained.
“No, he didn’t,” Cookie agreed, resisting the urge to lash out at her mother just because she was the only one around. “But if a whole group of armed men were sighted just off the shore in a boat packed with Stinger missiles, he’d probably tell us ‘don’t worry, they won’t bother us none’ and leave it at that.” She stared down the hill, where she could still see the deputy’s car making its leisurely way toward the sheriff’s office, then looked toward the backyard, the water, and the body it contained. The body Deputy Swan clearly couldn’t be bothered with.
But it was bothering her. And that made her want to bother someone else about it.
There were plenty of reasons she shouldn’t, Cookie knew. Not least of which was the fact that she and her mother had come here—fled here, if she was being honest—to get away from it all. To hide. To lie low. Calling people now would be the exact opposite of that.
But a man was dead. And, local or not, that wasn’t something she could just let go.
Having made her decision, Cookie acted upon it. Gliding past her mother, who had risen from the hammock to hover near the inn’s front door, Cookie headed inside and up the stairs, the wooden steps cool on her bare feet. The second and third floors were for guests. And her mother had claimed the lone bedroom on the main floor, opposite the front parlor, dining room, and kitchen, but Cookie had set her sights on one of the two rooms nestled into the attic. Making her way up there now, she opened the door, and heat from the sun wafted toward her as she eased inside. She made a mental note to check on those window air-conditioning units she’d ordered.
The room was good-sized, though a taller person might have had issues with the way the ceiling sloped in along the front. At 5’9”, Cookie didn’t mind at all. She thought it made the room seem cozy, and besides, she loved the big dormer window that took up most of that wall, looking out toward the water. But at the moment, she wasn’t interested in the view. Instead she slid between her bed and dresser and went to the small closet. It was stuffed with clothes, but her goal was actually a small strongbox tucked away on the top shelf. She had to strain on her tiptoes to get her fingers on it, and it scraped on the wooden shelf as she gingerly pulled it toward her until she could grab it properly and haul it down.
Setting the box on the bed, Cookie unlocked it with a key she kept in her pocket. Then, taking a deep breath, she flipped the lid open and sat staring at her past.
It was strange that so much of one’s life could fit into so compact a space, she thought, gazing down at the box’s contents. Or perhaps the word she was looking for was “sad.” Certainly some of her old friends, especially her best friend, Scarlett, had told her she needed to get a life. Maybe this just proved their point.
Shaking off the doldrums those old memories brought forth, Cookie dug into the box, looking for what she needed. Past the holstered pistol, beneath the badge and ID, under passport and birth certificate and diplomas—aha! She snatched up the item and held it to the light like a long-lost prize.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” she murmured affectionately.
Then she popped it open, slapped the battery into place, shut it back up, and then powered the phone on.
Its starting chime was a welcome note that almost brought tears to her eyes. When they’d left Philly, she and Rain had agreed that they needed to break all ties with their past. That included ditching or hiding anything people could have used to reach them. Rain had happily discarded her own phone, but Cookie had found she just couldn’t bear to get rid of hers. Instead it had been placed in the box, powered off but still available in case she needed it.
As she did right now.
Once the phone lit up, Cookie was relieved to see that it was showing full bars. She hadn’t been sure the island even had cell service, and they were too far from the mainland to access any signal from there. Cookie called up her contacts list, scrolling down to a particular name. One she’d thought she’d never see again.
Then, after taking another deep breath for strength, she hit Call.
3
He picked up on the second ring.
“Charlie?” he demanded, his voice the same deep, gruff rumble she remembered. “Are you okay? Where the hell are you?” She could hear the naked concern in his voice, but also the anger.
This wasn’t going to be easy.
“I’m… okay,” Cookie managed after a second, gripping the phone tightly. “Really. I just… we had to get out.”
That made him pause, and when he spoke again some of the anger had been tamped down. “Yeah, I get that,” he admitted. “I do. But you could’ve told me, Charlie. I’d have helped.” Now the anger had been replaced by, of all things, hurt, and Cookie found herself blinking back tears. Damn. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
“I know,” she answered, regret in her tone. “I do. But it was better to not involve anybody else. Once I made the decision, we just packed up and ran.” Even though it had meant throwing away everything she’d worked for all these years. Leaving behind her entire career, her friends… and her partner. After she’d tangled with a mob family and lost, she’d opted to take an unspecified extended leave from her job at the FBI… otherwise known as a career killer. But she’d had no other choice if she wanted to protect herself and her mother.
“I tried calling, you know,” he said. “A whole bunch of times. No answer. Tried pinging your phone, too. Nothing.”
She had to laugh at that. “Did you really think I wouldn’t know how to avoid that?” she asked. “Come on, Hunter—you taught me better than that.”
“Yeah, I guess I did.” He chuckled as well, the same warm, liquid sound that had always sent more of a thrill through her than it probably should. “So, what do you need? I’m guessing you didn’t resurface just to check in.”
“No.” Cookie sighed. “I—this thing happened. Nothing to do with me, not exactly, but it was right on my doorstep—pretty much literally—and the local deputy isn’t exactly eager to look into it.”
“And you can’t, because you’re not in the game anymore, officially,” Hunter guessed. “So, what, you want me to come out there and check it out for you?”
“Would you?” She held her breath as she stared blindly at her patchwork quilt. She knew it was a lot to ask, especially after she’d gone dark on him.
“Just tell me where you are,” her former partner answered, allowing Cookie to breathe ag
ain as relief and gratitude flowed over her in a wave. “I’ll be on the next flight out.”
Of course, it wasn’t quite as simple as just hopping a plane. One of the most appealing features of Secret Seal Isle was its remoteness, since Cookie and Rain hadn’t exactly wanted to make it easy for anyone to find them. Which was why it wasn’t until the next day that Hunter showed up.
He’d already missed the body. Not that it hadn’t been there long enough. Cookie didn’t know if Deputy Swan had called his boss back in Hancock or had just finally found a little initiative of his own. Or maybe he’d just decided that leaving a body floating right off their blissful little island could ruin its tourist appeal or foul the lobstermen’s nets or something else equally heinous. But someone had finally gotten around to notifying the medical examiner, because the white van arrived early the next morning, with ‘Hancock Medical Examiner’s Office’ emblazoned on the side.
Cookie had hung back while the ME, a tall, thin, geeky Hispanic guy who looked too young for the job, had wrestled the body out of the water and into a body bag, which he’d then hauled back to the van and carted off. The island didn’t have a hospital or medical center, so she assumed he would be taking the ferry back to the mainland.
The other big event that morning had been the arrival of their first paying guests. Mary and Henry Seiger were from New Jersey, and they had decided to have a romantic getaway to celebrate their thirtieth wedding anniversary. They’d heard of Secret Seal Isle somewhere and had booked their weeklong trip through the new online reservations system. Cookie was thrilled, both because the older couple seemed nice and provided a welcome distraction and because the whole idea of buying the inn had been so they could earn a living, and that required guests.
She’d just finished showing the Seigers their room—the largest one on the second floor, with a beautiful bay window and a lovely view of the island and the ocean—when a rental car pulled up in front. A Mustang, new and gleaming black, as if it’d been torn from the night itself.
And out of the car had stepped a man just as dark and masculine as his ride.
“Hunter!” Cookie’s feet pounded on the wooden porch steps as she raced down and all but threw herself at him. Fortunately, at six feet and fit, with well-honed muscles, Hunter was able to take the impact. She laughed as he swept her up into his arms, lifting her right off her feet. “You made it.”
“Finally. I’m amazed, too,” her ex-partner admitted, squeezing her tight before setting her down. Frustration and amusement warred in his dark eyes. “Do you have any idea what a pain it is to get here from Philly?” He stopped and shook his head. “Of course you do,” he corrected himself. “You did this yourself. And that was part of the point, right?” He laughed again, running one hand over his gleaming scalp. “Well, let me tell you, mission accomplished. No way are any of DeMasi’s crew ever finding you out here—and even if they did, none of them would be willing to make the trip.”
Though hearing the mob boss’s name again made her shiver a little, Cookie was pleased that Hunter agreed with her choice of hideaway. And she was just really glad to see him. “You look good,” she said, studying him. His beard was still neatly trimmed, his head shaved bare, his dark suit perfectly pressed. Hunter O’Neil had always been the poster child for the FBI’s sexy-but-dangerous-agent type.
He’d been doing his own studying, of course, and now a small, sexy smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You too,” he said softly, his eyes sliding over her curves and leaving a tingle of heat in their wake. “Looks like hiding out agrees with you.”
Cookie could feel herself flush. “It’s not so bad. At least I don’t have to wear a suit anymore,” she cracked, waving a hand at her untucked button-down shirt and jeans.
“You always looked good in a suit,” Hunter replied, his gaze heating up further. “Though you look darn good out of it, too.”
Fortunately, Rain chose just that moment to emerge from the inn. “Oh, hello!” she called out, tripping down the steps toward them. “I’m Cookie’s mother, Rain. And who might you be?”
At least, Cookie thought, she’s wearing a top this time.
Hunter arched one eyebrow but smiled and offered his hand. “Hunter O’Neil,” he answered. “Your daughter and I used to work together.”
“Oh?” Rain turned toward her daughter, and over her shoulder Hunter mouthed, Cookie? Cookie just shook her head and gave an ‘I’ll explain later’ shrug. “Sweetie,” her mom was saying now, “you never told me about a coworker named Hunter.” What Rain really meant, Cookie knew from her wide grin, was ‘you never mentioned you worked with such a hottie.’
“There’s a lot I didn’t tell you, Mom,” Cookie managed quietly, and for once her mom just nodded, not pushing her on it. “Hunter came up because of what happened yesterday.”
“Oh, it was horrible!” Rain declared at once, going back into drama mode like the flip of a switch. “He was all over me. I was practically peeing myself, I was so scared.” Then the switch tripped again, and she was all smiles. “Will you be staying with us, Hunter?” she practically cooed up at him. “You simply must.”
“If I must, I must,” Hunter agreed easily.
“Oh, good.” Rain clapped her hands together like a little girl who’d just been allowed a treat. “And I know the perfect room for you. I’ll go get it ready.” Turning away from him, she leaned in close to Cookie and whispered, “He’s hotter than a pig roast in July.”
Cookie managed not to groan or roll her eyes, but only barely, as her mother skipped away.
“Okay,” Hunter said once they were alone again. “Obviously I want to hear what exactly happened yesterday. But first—Cookie? Rain?” He was laughing at her, of course, but Cookie couldn’t find it in herself to be offended. Especially not when it really was so ridiculous.
“I couldn’t go by my real name,” she explained, “just in case Jonah did have someone looking for me.” She shrugged. “When I was a kid, my nickname was Cookie because I loved the darn things. It’s familiar enough that I actually answer to it, and it’s not listed on anything anywhere, so it seemed like the best option.”
“I get that,” he agreed. “But—Rain?”
Now Cookie did laugh as she led him toward the inn. “What can I say? Mom’s still an old hippie at heart. She figured if I was changing my name, she might as well change hers too, and she said she’d always thought Mary was boring. So she became Rain Forest instead.”
“Wow.” He laughed again. “Rain Forest? Really? That’s—I just can’t picture you growing up with a mom named Rain Forest.” Then he sobered. “All right, now tell me what happened yesterday.”
Cookie found herself bringing him to the dock and recounting the incident with the dead body and her encounter with Deputy Swan. “They hauled off the body this morning,” she finished, “but there isn’t even so much as crime scene tape. No forensics, no photos, nothing.”
“We’re not in the big city anymore,” Hunter pointed out. “They do things differently around here.” He tugged on the legs of his suit pants as he squatted down and inspected the area where they’d discovered the body. He chuckled again. “But I take it that’s not good enough for you.”
“The deputy wasn’t concerned because the man wasn’t local, but he’s still dead,” Cookie shot back, squinting at him in the fading light. “And I think, whoever the hell he is, he deserves for people to know what happened to him, and how, and why.”
Hunter considered that, rubbing his jaw, before standing up and finally nodding. “Okay,” he said. “You’re right. A man’s dead, and somebody’s got to find out the details and make sure anyone responsible is brought to justice.” He yawned and stretched before he looked at his watch. “It’s after five, and I’m betting Deputy Swan doesn’t exactly stay late. How about we pick this up in the morning—go talk to him, see what he can tell us, and take it from there? In the meantime, all that traveling wore me out. I could use a good meal, a beer, and a sol
id night’s sleep.”
Cookie smiled. “I think we can provide those, no problem.” She gestured grandly toward the inn. The back door was standing open invitingly, the light from inside casting a warm glow out onto the deck even as the sky darkened around them. “After all, you’re staying at the finest inn on Secret Seal Isle.”
It was also the only inn on the island, but she decided her ex-partner didn’t need to know that.
“That was excellent, ma’am,” Hunter said. His chair scraped on the old hardwood floor as he pushed back from the dinner table, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. “Thank you.”
Rain beamed down at him. “My pleasure,” she replied. “And it’s Rain.” She slapped at him playfully before reaching over and scooping up his empty plate. “Cookie, sweetie, why don’t you show Hunter to his room?” she suggested with a wink. “I put him in Borealis.”
Cookie groaned. She loved her mother dearly, but the woman didn’t have a subtle bone in her body. Still, now wasn’t the time to get into it with her. “Come on,” she told Hunter, rising to her feet. “It’s on the top floor.”
Hunter hoisted the duffel he’d pulled from his rental car and followed her up the stairs. “Why’d you groan when your mom told you which room it was?” he asked as they climbed. “Something wrong with the room?”
“Not at all,” Cookie answered over her shoulder, breathing a little heavily from the steep ascent. “It’s just—” She reached the top floor and paused to catch her breath before stepping to the side so Hunter could join her. “This is Borealis,” she continued, reaching out and opening one of the three doors.
Hunter stepped into the room, tastefully decorated with northern lights prints, distressed furniture, and a white goose-down comforter. He surveyed it quickly. “Nice.” He tossed his duffel onto the bed.
“Yeah. And that’s the bathroom.” She pointed toward the middle door. Then she indicated the remaining door. “And this is Aurora. My room.”
“Ah.” A devilish look kindled in Hunter’s eyes. “So your mom put me in the room next to yours? And we’re the only ones up here?”