by Lucy Quinn
Beside her, Hunter raised an eyebrow. “The next time?” he asked, his voice dropping several octaves to a deep rumble that thrilled her to her bones. “So you think I’ll be back?”
“Oh, I know you can’t stay away,” she countered, her own voice gone throaty as well. Why did she do this to herself, she wondered, twisting a length of hair around her fingers as she watched Hunter watching her, his eyes dark and serious.
“You may be right,” he murmured and leaned in toward her. “I just can’t seem to quit you, Charlie.”
She shifted in her own chair, angling toward him as well, her eyes trapped by his hungry gaze, her lips parting slightly, her breath coming heavier, every muscle in her body taut, every sense alert, every nerve on fire—
“Uhhhhh.”
Startled, Cookie jerked away, but Hunter looked just as surprised. Then the sound came again, and she realized it wasn’t emerging from him at all but from somewhere around the side of the inn.
“What the hell?” Hunter snapped, rising to his feet. Cookie was right behind him, and as one hand automatically set down her coffee mug the other fled toward the gun she had holstered at the small of her back. The heavy weapon was firm in her hand, and her ex-partner had drawn his as well, she noted as the two of them moved carefully and with as little noise as possible across the creaky old porch to the front stairs.
“Where’s your mom?” Hunter whispered as they both crept along the front walk and then onto the lawn, trying to figure out where the noises were coming from.
“Out,” Cookie replied. “She said she was going for a walk after dinner. She likes to stroll along the beach and look at the sunset.” She glanced over at Hunter, who was peering into the dusk, trying to track the guttural sounds that continued to float toward them. “You think this has something to do with Chip Winslow?”
He shook his head but didn’t glance her way. “I don’t know,” he admitted, gun still out but aimed down at the ground, ready to rise in an instant. “Can’t imagine how. We assumed his body washing up here was a coincidence, but what if it’s not? What if it’s got something to do with this place—or with you?”
A sudden wind knifed through Cookie, chilling her to the bone, even though the night air was perfectly still. Something to do with you. Could it? Had DeMasi tracked her down somehow? Was Chip Winslow some kind of twisted warning? She shook her head, trying to dispel the paranoia. If they’d wanted to send her a message, they wouldn’t have used someone she barely knew and didn’t particularly like. But some of that fear had taken root, and she was horrified to see that her gun was shaking slightly in her hands.
And still the sounds continued.
“Uhhhhh. Uhhhhhh.” They sounded as though someone might be in pain, and Cookie’s blood chilled further.
“They’re coming from over there,” Hunter whispered, gesturing with his gun toward a small storage shed sitting to one side of the house. “Who has access?”
“Everyone,” Cookie replied just as quietly as they inched closer. “It’s not locked.” She shrugged at his surprised glance. “What? It’s got some spare lawn chairs, a beach umbrella or two, stuff like that. Who’d want to steal it?” Hunter shook his head, and Cookie felt a flash of irritation at her ex-partner. This wasn’t the big city, and he needed to understand that. Things were different out here. People were different out here. Which didn’t in any way explain what really sounded like grunts of pain emanating from the shed.
“Ohhhhh. Uhhhhh. Damn!”
At that last one, which had been scratchy, deep, and male, Hunter finally launched into motion. Covering the remaining distance to the shed in two long strides, he raised his pistol with one hand and grabbed the shed door with the other. Then, checking to make sure Cookie was behind him and off to the side slightly so that she had a clean shot, he yanked the door open. It crashed against the building.
“Freeze, FBI!” he shouted, his second hand flying forward to steady his gun as he trained it on the shed’s occupants. Cookie did likewise, targeting even as her mind took in the new details being sent from her eyes:
The inside of the shed. Chairs and cushions and other paraphernalia.
Two figures. One straddling a chair. The other straddling the first. Facing each other.
Jeans. Down around the first figure’s ankles.
A dress, hiked up over the second figure’s hips.
A familiar tie-dyed dress.
A very familiar person wearing that dress and now peering over her shoulder, mouth open in surprise.
A less familiar bearded face gaping at them in shock.
Then Cookie was lowering her gun and turning away, her free hand flying to her face in an attempt to block out what she’d already seen and could never unsee, no matter how hard she tried. “Geez, Mom!” she burst out. “What the hell?”
“What?” Rain replied. She lifted herself off the man with a giggle, her dress fortunately sliding back into place as she moved. The last thing Cookie needed right now was her mother giving her ex-partner a peep show.
Her partner! Cookie slid her gaze over to Hunter, who stood as if frozen, his face locked into an expression of utter surprise. “Hunter?” Cookie asked softly, resting a hand gently on his arm. “You okay?”
With a shudder he finally tore his eyes from the scene before him and spun about to face her. “Yeah, fine,” he managed to choke out, and if Cookie hadn’t been so mortified herself she’d have laughed. She hadn’t even known his face could turn that shade of red. “I’ll leave this for you to straighten out,” Hunter rasped and stalked away into the darkness, holstering his pistol as he went.
Cookie sighed and put her own weapon away, turning back around to confront her mother, who was now exiting the shed, leading her male companion out by the hand. He’d taken the time to pull up his pants, Cookie was glad to see.
“Really, Mom?” Cookie managed. She shook her head. “In the storage shed?”
“Oh, you know what they say,” her mother replied cheerfully. “Any port in a storm.” She giggled again. “And Anthony here certainly wasn’t complaining about my port, were you, Anthony?”
Anthony, who Cookie thought she recognized vaguely, muttered something and scuffed the ground with the toe of one boot. His face was bright red behind his beard.
“Anthony’s a lobsterman,” Rain continued as if she were introducing them during a casual walk about town. “He was just coming off his boat as I was walking by. We got to talking, and then, well, to other things. This seemed like a good place, quiet and private, and I didn’t want to disturb you and Hunter in the house.” Another bubble of laughter burst from her. “I guess we got a little loud, huh?”
Cookie opened her mouth to reply then shut it again. She honestly had no idea what to say. Instead she turned and walked away, looking for Hunter. She found him pacing the front porch. “They still out there?” he asked as she approached.
“Yeah, but probably not for long.” She sighed. “Look, about that—”
But Hunter held up a hand. “I don’t ever want to talk about that again,” he told her. “Ever. Okay?”
She almost laughed but managed to swallow it. “Sure,” she agreed instead. “Forget it ever happened.”
“Right.” He still sounded a little strangled as he grabbed his now-cold coffee, gulped it down, and then retreated to the house. Cookie watched him go. So much for whatever had almost happened between them just a few minutes ago.
Replaying the recent events in her head as she gathered up the thermos and her own mug, Cookie debated what to do about Rain. Her mother was getting more and more out of control. First the dead body, which hadn’t been her fault. Then scaring away their first paying customers by toking up with the wife. And now banging one of the locals in the storage shed.
Cookie was starting to get a little worried about what her mother might do next. She needed someone to keep an eye on Rain, she decided. And she couldn’t do that herself, at least not until they’d solved this case. B
ut who else could she trust? She considered Dylan but immediately dismissed that idea. She still wasn’t sure where they stood, exactly, and although she did like him, Cookie had to admit there were a lot of things she didn’t know about the man. Plus, he had a vested interest in the case, so asking him to watch over Rain would be risky. He’d be right on top of them all the time and might stumble upon some confidential information.
There really was only one person she could ask. Cookie pulled her phone out of her pocket and, for the second time in a matter of days, dialed a familiar number.
“Gee, miss me?” Scarlett teased as she picked up. “What’s going on? Did you make a choice already? Good for you, girl!”
“It’s not that,” Cookie answered and could practically hear her best friend shifting gears at the tone in her voice. “I need to ask you a favor. A big one.”
Her friend didn’t hesitate for a second. “Name it,” she replied. “You need somebody rubbed out? Because I’ve got connections.”
That at least made Cookie laugh. The only “connection” Scarlett had was to her favorite restaurant, and only insofar as they had her credit card on file and knew her favorite dish and her preferred wine to accompany it. “Nothing quite like that,” she said. Then she sighed. “It’s my mom.”
All banter vanished from Scarlett’s voice in an instant. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine, but she’s getting out of hand.” Cookie recounted the shed incident, which made her friend laugh. “I’m worried that she’s going to get herself in trouble. I was wondering, I know it’s a ridiculous thing to ask, but is there any chance you—”
“Could come out for a visit and just incidentally keep your mother from doing anything crazy?” That was one of the great things about being friends for so long—Scarlett had known exactly what she was going to ask. The other great thing was that she immediately followed up with, “Of course, sweetie. I never use my vacation days, and my desk is pretty clear right now, so why not. I’m on the next flight out. See you soonest, love ya, bye!”
“Love ya, bye,” Cookie responded, feeling much better as they hung up. Rain might be a force of nature, but so was Scarlett, and if anyone could keep her headstrong mother in check, it was her equally stubborn best friend. Plus, it would be nice to see Scarlett again, regardless of the reason. And maybe, Cookie admitted to herself, she could also get her friend’s firsthand take on the whole thing with Hunter. And the maybe thing with Dylan. Cookie groaned and headed inside. When had life on a quiet little island gotten so complicated?
18
The next day was Saturday, and it certainly started well. Though Cookie had of course gone to bed alone again, never even considering propositioning Hunter after what they’d both seen the night before. What was it with her mom exposing herself to the men in Cookie’s life, anyway, she wondered?
She’d at least gotten a good night’s sleep out of it and was awakened by the rumble of a car pulling up out front. She only dimly registered the slamming of the vehicle’s door, a woman’s laugh, and the sound of a departing engine. But she came awake fully at the sudden shout of, “Hey, what does it take to get some service around here!”
She knew that voice. “Scarlett?”
For half a second Cookie thought she must be dreaming. What would her best friend be doing all the way out here? But then the memory of last night’s phone call resurfaced. And then she was bolting out of bed and leaping down the stairs, taking them two at a time. Good thing she’d fallen asleep in yoga pants and an oversized T-shirt.
“Scarlett!” Cookie flung open the front door, barreled across the porch and down the steps, and wrapped her arms around her friend. “You made it!”
“Of course,” came the reply against her ear as her friend returned the embrace. “Told you I would, and when have I ever let you down?” Before Cookie could even answer, her friend was laughing again. “Oh wait, do not mention that double date again,” Scarlett added. “That was years ago.”
“And I’m still scarred,” Cookie retorted, letting go and pulling back so she could stare her friend in the eye. “Deeply, deeply scarred. He offered to give me a free breast exam. Right there in the restaurant.”
“I know, I know.” Her friend sighed. “They were med students. I figured ‘hey, future doctors.’ I didn’t know it also meant ‘hey, potential creepers.’” She studied Cookie, a smile on her face. “You look good.”
“You too.” But then, Scarlett always looked good. She was gorgeous like a model, a force to be reckoned with during lawsuit negotiations, and the years had only given her face more character. Wearing a black silk top and matching slacks that set off her pale skin and ash-blond hair nicely, she peered out from beneath her wide, straw sun hat, the perfect picture of the dazzling urbanite spending a day at the beach.
“Where’s the fire?” A deep voice rumbled behind her, and Cookie glanced back to see Hunter emerge from the inn—and couldn’t help but stare a little. It turned out he slept in yoga pants, too. And nothing else. Damn.
“Well, hello, handsome,” Scarlett all but purred, gliding past Cookie and extending a hand. “You must be Hunter. I’m Scarlett, CJ’s oldest and best friend.”
“Pleasure.” Hunter reflexively shook hands, his eyes doing a quick assessment. Cookie was still doing some assessing of her own. She’d always known Hunter was well built, but wow. He put most male models to shame. “Wait, her oldest friend?” She glanced up as she saw him put some pieces together. “So you knew where she was?”
“Of course,” Scarlett answered. “We don’t have any secrets from each other.” Which was pretty much true. Scarlett was like the sister Cookie had never had, if that sister was her age, her best friend and closest confidante, and a genius with clothes and makeup.
She saw Hunter process that information, almost managing to hide a brief flash of hurt. “And you’re here now because—?”
Cookie decided to spare her friend from further interrogation. “I called her last night,” she explained, wrapping an arm around Scarlett’s shoulder. Her friend’s perfume filled her nose with a sexy spiced scent that Cookie was sure was the latest “it” brand. They were the same height, though Cookie was considerably curvier. “I asked if she could come out. I figured it’d be a good idea for someone to keep an eye on my mom.”
“As long as that someone isn’t me, that sounds great,” Hunter agreed, wincing at the recollection. Then his eyes widened. “Wait, where did you come from?” he demanded. “She just called you last night, and you’re already here? What’d you do, fly?”
Scarlett laughed. “Didn’t you?” She took off the sun hat and fanned herself with it, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. “I took a flight from New York to Bristol then hired a chopper to get me from there to Hancock. From there, I paid a very nice fisherman to bring me over in his boat, and then talked some nice young man into giving me a ride up here from the docks.”
Cookie couldn’t help but chuckle. Scarlett had always been a bit of an unstoppable force. And she was incredibly good at getting men to do what she wanted. The fact that her law firm was doing well probably didn’t hurt either.
Hunter was shaking his head in awe. “Wish I’d come up with you,” he muttered. “Would have saved me a lot of time.”
The look Scarlett shot him could have boiled an egg. “I bet you do,” she said with a wicked grin. “But anyway, we’re all here now. So what’s for breakfast? I’m starved.”
With unusually good timing—probably because she was no doubt desperate to know all about the new arrival—Rain appeared just then and announced, “Breakfast!” before disappearing back inside.
“There you go,” Cookie told her friend, hugging her again and then reaching down to grab the small valise standing beside them. “Food, and you get to see Mom again. Two for the price of one!” She hoisted the heavy suitcase up the stairs.
“Careful dear, you’re making it sound like a bargain sale, and you know how I feel about those,” Scar
lett replied. They both laughed as they headed inside, Hunter trailing behind them looking more than a little overwhelmed. Poor boy, Cookie thought. Between her and Scarlett, he’d never know what hit him.
The rest of the day, unfortunately, looked to be a bit less pleasant, though hopefully just as productive or even more so. After breakfast, Cookie ran upstairs, showered and changed, and then she and Hunter headed over to the Salty Dog. They left Rain and Scarlett chatting about makeup and clothes and homemade salsa recipes.
“Do we know what she looks like?” Hunter asked as they entered the restaurant. Conversations hummed as silverware clashed, signaling a busy morning crowd. Her partner was again wearing the slacks he’d gotten from Jared, but with one of his button-down shirts and a tie, appearing professional enough. As long as no one looked down and saw the flip-flops.
Cookie frowned. “Not really,” she admitted. “I usually come in on Wednesday, her normal day off. But apparently she’s hot, so she shouldn’t be hard to find.” It wasn’t a very big island, after all.
Stepping inside, she was still blinking to adjust from the sunlight when a friendly female voice declared, “Hi, welcome to the Salty Dog. Two for brunch?”
Blinking more rapidly, Cookie squinted enough to make out a pretty redhead standing before them, a pair of menus already in her hand. Late twenties to early thirties, wearing little to no makeup, and her hair pulled into a simple ponytail, she was dressed in jeans and a tied-off button-down but still looking amazing. “Daisy Harris?”
The woman beamed at her, and Cookie could easily see why Dylan would have been smitten and why Mindy would consider her such a threat. The expression took Daisy from lovely to stunning, as if pure sunshine were leaking from every pore. “That’s right. Have we met?”
“We haven’t,” Cookie replied. She held out her hand. “I’m Cookie James. My mother and I bought the Secret Seal Inn.” She indicated Hunter beside her. “This is Agent O’Neil with the FBI. And I’m really sorry about this.”