Once Upon a Summer

by Brooke Moss

  “There’s someone outside,” he breathed.

  Her beautiful eyes fluttered open and she looked up at him in the dark. “Poachers?” Dylan wasn’t sure if he’d heard the word or if she’d just mouthed it.

  He nodded. Who else would be wandering the protected land in the middle of the night?

  He sat up slowly, while she did the same. He grabbed his black shirt and her singlet from where they’d been thrown to the side. Passing hers, Dylan slipped his over his head and climbed quietly out of the sleeping bag. He was grateful for his self-restraint, which had kept them sensibly dressed below the waist. Then he took the flare gun from where he’d kept it safe in its heavy-duty Pelican case. He slid his feet into his brown boots, then watched her strap on her sandals before he slowly unzipped the tent flap.

  As he climbed outside into the moonlit night, Dylan had an urge to tell Kyra to stay put. There was no need for her to abandon the safety of the tent to investigate the noise. But, he knew Kyra too well. He’d tried many times previously to protect her when there’d been shark sightings before their dives, yet she’d never listened. No, he’d be better off keeping his macho thoughts to himself, then maybe she’d at least stay behind him.

  Dylan focused on the noise, a swishing like shifting sand and then a rustling, a crinkling sound like that of a plastic bag. He only had one flare as he hadn’t thought to grab a second from the case. If he did this right, he’d be able to shoot the flare above the nest and scare off whoever was nearby.

  He felt Kyra’s hand touch his side reassuringly. As he glanced back at her, he moved his hand to his ear, gesturing for her to listen before returning his attention to the shadowy sand dunes in front of them.

  Suddenly, there was a throaty murmur, followed by another. Kyra’s hand pressed harder into his side until he glanced back at her. With her standing nearby, he could see her eyes widen as she pointed south-west to the flagged nest furthest from them. Dylan nodded his agreement before motioning for her to follow him. They climbed the dune until they were in line with the darkness and security of the nearby mangrove forest and then inched silently closer in the direction of the voices. He wanted to get close enough to ensure the flare struck overhead, lighting up the nest and the poachers before they ran off. If he and Kyra were lucky, they might be able to get a good description to pass onto the police.

  As they neared the spot, Dylan saw the dark outlines of two people crouched low on the dune. The deep voices were louder now but still indistinguishable. Certain they’d reached a good position where they’d be safe, he stopped and held up a hand to halt Kyra. Making sure she was still behind him under the cover of the trees, Dylan stepped out enough to allow his aim to clear the branches and leaves above. With the gun securely in his hand, Dylan raised his arm over the direction of the nest. His finger itched on the trigger.

  Electronic music pierced the silence like the chirruping noise of a cellphone. Dylan froze and glanced over at the gloomy figures as a disgruntled bird squawked its disapproval and flew out of the mangroves nearest the poachers.

  “Crap! Will you turn that racket off?” The voice was louder this time, deep, husky, and clearly male.

  One of the figures stood, appearing to fumble for a moment. The volume of the catchy tune increased. Convinced the poachers still hadn’t seen them, Dylan returned focus back on his mission. He looked up, quickly corrected his aim and then fired. The melodious music ceased a split-second before the echoing blast of the flare rang out into the night.

  “What was that?” It was a different voice this time, still deep, still male, but sharper, younger and he sounded worried.

  Dylan stepped back under the cover of the mangroves as soon as he’d shot the flare skyward. He watched and waited silently, his hand holding tightly onto Kyra’s to keep her with him.

  There was a loud fizzing bang like the crackling of a firework as the flare reached its peak and exploded into a vibrant red and orange flame.

  “Shit!” The younger man shouted. “Oh no, shit! Oh, God.”

  While the effervescent flare began to fall, its incandescent color illuminated the ground below, lighting up the poachers and the pillaged nest almost as clear as day.

  An older, robust man with dark hair, black slacks and a grey windbreaker jumped to his feet as he glanced at the sand dunes and the quiet inlet around them. “We’ve got to go,” he growled as he clutched a black garbage bag in his fist.

  “No! I’ve dropped it.” The younger man yelled. “It’s in the nest. It’s in the nest!”

  From where he and Kyra were huddled close to the trunks of the protective mangrove trees, Dylan watched the younger man closely. He was slender, athletic, with light colored hair, a navy T-shirt and dark jeans.

  “We’ve got to go!” The older man grabbed his accomplice by his shirt and pulled him backward. “We’ve got to get out of here!”

  The older man stumbled in the soft sand as he shoved the other man southward, toward the cover of more mangroves and in the vague direction of the Mon Repos walking track. While the poachers struggled to make their escape, Dylan glanced skyward. The flare should land in the soft sand, out of harm’s way. As Dylan watched the dark shapes of the poachers meet the refuge of the distant trees in the red glow of the flare’s light, a siren began to wail.

  “The police,” Kyra whispered, her hand gripping his tightly.

  Dylan glanced back at their tent. It was only thirty yards or so away, just over the rise. He had to get back there, get to the radio and call into base so they could pass their information onto the police. He was pretty sure the men were heading back to the walking track and almost certain they’d parked somewhere around Nielson Park Beach as the trail continued out of the forest there.

  He turned, kissed Kyra lightly on the lips and then looked deep into her eyes. “Stay here,” he ordered, he didn’t want to risk her being seen if the poachers doubled back.

  But, even as he said it, he knew he’d made a mistake.

  *

  Kyra just had to look. She needed to see what was left behind. Dylan wanted her to stay put in case the poachers returned, but she just couldn’t help herself. She knew she should leave any evidence for the police. But, what if the poachers came back to take what they’d left behind? Then what would the police have? Surely, her finding what the poacher lost could be helpful, even if it meant her fingerprints were on it – whatever it was.

  Hunching low, Kyra ran out from the trees. The flare still burned brightly from where it had landed in the sand a few strides right of the nest, setting the night aflame with gaudy reds, pinks and oranges. She could hear the police sirens wailing and growing louder as they neared. When she reached the nest, she slid down onto the sand, feeling grains of it work further into her sandals and up into her shorts. She looked down into the darkened hole and found she could see well enough from the remaining light of the flare to make out its contents.

  Although the clutch of eggs had been disturbed by the poachers, it appeared the majority of them remained. They’d been lucky in their timing. Kyra noticed a long dark shape poking out of the sand beside the eggs. As she pulled it free, she realized what it was – a mobile phone.

  The younger man must’ve dropped it when the flare had exploded. Kyra looked at the shiny black screen and pressed the button on the bottom of the device. As though saving power, it lit up only slightly to reveal a locked display with three message squares, all from a person by the name of Jay.

  Kyra couldn’t help but grin. The police could trace the number and hopefully find the douchebags who were responsible for organizing and committing the illegal poaching.

  As she climbed to her feet, she saw Dylan running over to her, a worried look clouding his expression. She heard him talking into the transceiver radio as he neared.

  “Thanks, Brian. We’ll stay here until the police arrive. Over and out.”

  Then she noticed the sirens had changed. They sounded as though they were heading away.
<
br />   Dylan clipped the radio onto his belt as he reached her. “Are you okay?” Concern choked his voice.

  Kyra hadn’t expected it. She’d been certain she’d be in for a scolding as usual, but he didn’t appear mad, only fear-stricken.

  When she nodded, he grabbed her and pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her, holding her tight.

  “I was so worried,” he told her. “I know what you’re like.” It came out sounding like a nervous chuckle. “I should’ve told you the opposite of what I wanted you to do.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, but when he wouldn’t let her go, she told him again. “Really, Dylan, I’m fine.”

  He released her slightly to look her over and then brushed her strawberry blonde hair from her eyes.

  “Okay,” he said with a small smile. “Then we should get back to the trees. Who knows whether or not the poachers will risk coming back.”

  He grabbed her free hand, then turned and started to pull her with him.

  “Wait.” She yanked his hand, making him stop and look back at her.

  Kyra held up the phone in her hand.

  Dylan glanced at it and then back at her. “What? Your phone?”

  She grinned and shook her head. “No. Not my phone.”

  His eyebrows furrowed for a second and then realization seemed to dawn. “Not your phone,” he repeated.

  Dylan reached for it and then flinched his fingers away. He frowned at her. “Fingerprints.”

  She shrugged. “I had to get it. What if they’d come back?”

  The phone vibrated in her hand and a familiar electronic chirruping began. The screen brightened dramatically and the name Jay appeared above the option to answer or decline the call.

  She shared a look with Dylan, knowing her eyes were bound to be as wide as his. Should she answer it? What would she say?

  With a scowl, Dylan nodded at her again. “Answer it.”

  Kyra bit down on her lower lip as she used her thumb to swipe the green answer button and then raised the phone to her ear. Dylan leaned in close beside her.

  “Hello? Where the hell are you guys? You better not be down there. If you are, I’m pulling out. I’m not about to get caught because of your stupidity.”

  Kyra’s body jerked at the familiar voice as Dylan turned to look at her, his blue-green eyes wide and his mouth contorting in surprise, then fury.

  How could he do this? How could he betray everything that was supposed to be important to him?

  Kyra was just about to scream into the phone and verbally eviscerate the complete asshole on the other end who was betraying his own proclaimed passion, when Dylan shook his head and put his finger to his lips.

  Dylan was right, of course. They didn’t want him to know they knew and couldn’t have him high tailing it interstate or further. He was just as guilty as those guys who were doing all of the dirty work and needed to be caught and tried as such.

  Placing his fingers around her hand, Dylan used his thumb to help hers slide over the button to end the call. When the phone beeped to signal the call had ceased and silence ensued, Dylan sighed deeply as disappointment furrowed his brow.

  “Looks like he didn’t need his friends’ stupidity to get caught,” he told her, wearily, “Jake had enough of his own.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Friday morning brought with it many tears of heartache and betrayal, but none of them were shed by Kyra. She was enraged by the destruction of Jake’s actions and his lack of regard for the natural world. Although he’d pleaded with everyone and begged for their forgiveness when the police had escorted him away, she’d known he’d do it again exactly the same. Money spoke to him, nature didn’t. Kyra was so angry she hadn’t realized it before. She hadn’t recognized the signs. He’d had more money lately, but still it hadn’t clicked in her head.

  Kyra sighed for the thousandth time as she cuddled closer to Dylan, resting her head against the calming warmth of his chest. They were lounging on the sofa in the communal kitchen at the Science Center compound. Although they’d already answered questions for the police throughout the night, the investigating officers had left but requested they get some rest before returning to the station in the afternoon.

  As Dylan brushed the hair from Kyra’s eyes and kissed the top of her head, Max walked into the room. His thick greying-brown hair was tousled in disarray. His blue-grey eyes were sunken and reddened. When he noticed the couple, he offered them a small smile.

  “At least some good has come out of this mess,” Max said, his tired tone brightening a little. “I wondered how long it’d take for you two to end up together.”

  Dylan lifted his head from Kyra’s. “You’re okay with this, then?”

  Max frowned and looked instantly more tired. “Why wouldn’t I be? You two have me believing in soul mates.” He chuckled half-heartedly.

  Kyra looked up to see Dylan’s smile of relief.

  “I’m glad,” he told Max. “Now that I have her, I don’t think I could give her up.”

  Max laughed. “No need, my friend. Just invite me to your wedding.”

  Kyra smiled and laid a kiss on Dylan’s throat as a warm, contented feeling swelled in her chest. Could it really be a future possibility? Their wedding?

  Dylan wrapped his arm tighter around her. “I’m really sorry about Jake, Max.”

  Kyra heard the pain and sorrow in his voice. She knew Dylan wished things had ended differently, as they all had. But, Jake had made his choices, and hopefully, he would learn from them.

  Max leaned against the kitchen counter and rubbed his fingers over his eyelids. “Me, too,” he said, despondently. “Me, too.” When he glanced up again, he appeared to force his expression to become more cheerful. “I used to tease him about sending him to military school for more discipline.” His lips quirked upward at the memory and then faltered. “Well, he’ll certainly get it, if he gets jail time.”

  “Do you know how much time he’s likely to get?” Dylan asked the question cautiously, obviously trying not to upset Max any further.

  “The maximum sentence appears to be two years or a quarter of a million fine – possibly both.” He sighed deeply. “His lawyer believes he can get the sentence reduced since Jake was never involved in the physical act of poaching, he’d only offered up information. However, there’s no guarantee he’ll escape jail time altogether.”

  Dylan pulled away from Kyra and stood.

  “It’ll be okay, buddy,” he told Max reassuringly as he walked over to him.

  Frowning sadly, Max shrugged.

  Dylan opened his muscular arms wide and pulled the older man into an affectionate embrace. When Max reciprocated, Dylan patted him softly on the back.

  “Jake’s a big boy,” Dylan said. “He can handle whatever’s thrown at him. He can learn from this. We will help him. We’ll get through things together, Max. That’s what families are for.”

  Max wiped at his eyes, before pulling out of Dylan’s compassionate hug.

  Max smiled warmly at Dylan. “I knew I hired you for some reason,” he teased as he slapped Dylan’s shoulder gently. Then he glanced over at Kyra. “Well, I should get some rest, we all should, before we’re needed at the copshop again.”

  He patted Dylan’s shoulder once more as he gave him a look of tender appreciation and then headed for the door. When he reached the threshold, he glanced back and offered them both a pained smile, before tapping the doorframe with his hand and exiting the room.

  Kyra’s heart ached for him. Max had done his best with Jake. But they were very different people with very different priorities.

  “We should probably do what he said,” Dylan drawled tiredly as he moved back to the sofa and took hold of her hand. He tugged her from the softness of the cushions and up into his arms.

  Kyra loved his hard body against hers, holding her and protecting her in his arms. It felt so perfect, so right. It was where she belonged.

  Her heart fluttered in her chest as she
gazed up into his handsome blue-green eyes. “And what then?”

  He kissed her lightly on the lips. “Then we go answer some more questions.”

  She slid her hands along his black T-shirt and over the muscles of his back, enjoying the feel of his body beneath her fingertips. “And after that?”

  A smile teased at the corners of his mouth as he kissed her lips again, lingering a little longer. “Then,” he said slowly, as though drawing out his answer, “I think it’s time we go out on a real date.”

  Kyra struggled to keep the enthusiastic grin from her face. A proper date. This time with someone who shared her passions, who supported her dreams, and who truly cared about her. The right man. Her perfect match. She kissed him, her mouth dancing with his as her insides melted with joy and she all but swooned into his embrace.

  The End

  SNEAK PEEK AT PERSUADING LUCY

  Chapter One

  Juggling three glasses and a bottle of white wine, Lucy Spencer wove her way through the crowd engulfing the Riverside Tavern on Friday evening. As she tried to push quickly through the throng of obstinate people, she immediately regretted having chosen to wear her bandage dress to the occasion. She hadn’t been out for drinks with her work friends in a long while and had been trying to make an effort with the green figure-hugging number.

  When she finally reached their table, Lucy breathed a sigh of relief, free from the lively horde. Then, at the sight before her—heads bowed low over an electronic device—she frowned and quickly noted her mistake. Leaving her mobile phone alone on the table now seemed an obviously poor decision. She had thought it would be safe for a few minutes, but that had proved time enough for her good friends to snoop.

  Lucy gently placed the glasses on the tabletop and began to pour the wine, trying desperately to ignore the uneasy feeling filling her stomach. Rosie’s bleached blonde curls and plump cleavage bounced as she glanced up quickly to greet her. With a grin teasing at her rouged lips, Rosie nudged the taller, lankier young woman beside her with an elbow. Steph’s colorful pixie cut was still bowed over Lucy’s phone for a moment longer and then she glanced up to aim a sharp smirk across the table.