A Walk on the Dead Side (Secret Seal Isle Mysteries Book 3)

by Lucy Quinn

  “I thought—” Hunter mumbled, his face buried in her shoulder, his arms squeezing her tight. “I thought it was—” He clearly couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought, even now that he knew it was wrong.

  “I know.” She patted him on the back, returning his hug as the reality of her near-miss started to sink in. If Mr. Smuggler had gotten his shot off before her toss had connected, or if his aim hadn’t strayed, she could have been gut-shot for real. Or even worse. And with the close quarters, the jam, and everything else, she could totally see why Hunter had been so worried.

  It also hit her, hard, that she’d never seen him get this worked up before. They’d faced danger together a bunch of times. And they’d seen friends and co-workers get hit, too. Even had a few near misses themselves before. Hunter had always been sympathetic to those who’d been wounded, and angry that good people should be put at risk, but Cookie had never seen him this overwhelmed.

  Part of her wondered if it was because she was no longer an active agent or if there was more to it than that. The rest of her was just reveling in the fact that she was still alive. She registered all the little facts of the world around her: the overwhelming aroma of raspberry jam, the thin sheen of sweat coating her limbs from fear and exertion, the strain on her legs from crouching, the flour that still billowed about them, making her eyes itch and her throat scratchy. And Hunter’s firm body in her arms, his own powerful limbs wrapped around her warmly, protectively. The scent of cologne and sweat filled her nostrils as his heart beat against her chest.

  She was suddenly filled with the urge to kiss him. Twisting her head a fraction of an inch, she found that he was staring at her, their eyes only inches apart, his gaze so warm and welcoming she felt she could fall right into him. His lips were parted slightly. Her own opened in response as she leaned closer, his head inclining as well—

  “She all right?” Dylan asked, popping up in her peripheral vision.

  The sight of him jerked Cookie back to reality, to their current predicament, and to her tangled love life. She responded by pulling back from Hunter ever so slightly, but enough that he noticed.

  His body stiffened, and after a second he loosened his grip and retreated a step, rising back to his feet and offering her a hand up. His eyes had gone hooded, the emotions she’d seen a second ago vanishing under a black veil as if they’d never existed.

  But Cookie was sure she’d seen them there. Just as she was sure her own heart was hammering in response. Her brain was swimming with thoughts that had only been half-formed notions before but now seemed almost painfully sharp.

  Taking a deep breath and shaking her head to clear it, she let Hunter pull her to her feet. “I’m fine,” she managed, her voice a little shaky as she brushed herself off, the gesture futile against the red jam-and-flour paste now coating her. “I’m going to need the world’s longest shower when I get home, though.”

  Dylan studied her for a second, his eyes dropping down briefly to the stain on her shirt, then nodded and tilted his head toward the front of the shop. “The others are tied up.” He slid past her to help Rain and Winter. A short, sharp, black-bladed knife had appeared in his hands, and he made quick work of their bonds before hauling both of them to their feet and out of the pantry. In less than a minute, the five of them were all standing around the kitchen over the bodies of Mr. Smuggler and his henchman, both of whom had been securely tied up.

  Rain wasted no time in launching herself at Cookie. “I thought you were dead!” she wailed, clutching Cookie tight. “I thought we were dead!” For once, Cookie didn’t think her mother was being overly dramatic.

  “It’s okay, Mom,” Cookie assured her, hugging her back. “We’re all okay.” Her eyes sought Dylan over Rain’s shoulder, but after a quick nod he turned away.

  “I’ll let Scarlet know it’s safe,” he said, pulling out his phone.

  Cookie felt a twinge of regret at his cool, businesslike demeanor, but told herself it was just him being in ready mode, not anything personal. She wasn’t so sure, though. Dylan clearly had a very good poker face, but she thought just for a second when he’d first spotted her and Hunter in the pantry, his eyes had shown a world of hurt instead.

  23

  Scarlet joined them a few minutes later with Rain’s clothes in hand. Everyone was still in the kitchen, waiting for Sheriff Watkins to send officers to retrieve the downed smugglers. Winter and Rain were huddled at the table, with Cookie hovering over them, unsure how to play mother and help with their obvious shellshock. Dylan and Hunter were arguing.

  “I had three of them—you only had two,” Hunter bit out as Scarlet handed Rain her clothing.

  “Your three included Anthony, who likely didn’t even put up a fight,” Dylan countered. “I bet when he saw you burst in he probably just hid behind the counter, hands over his head, shrieking ‘don’t hurt me!’” The disgusted look that twisted Hunter’s face confirmed this analysis, and Dylan nodded. “You also had cover. I didn’t. My two were guarding the back door, with a clear line of sight.”

  “And one of them got a shot off on you,” Hunter argued. “I heard it.” So had Cookie, she recalled. That was what had startled the boss and his henchman into moving.

  “He missed,” Dylan replied with a shrug. “And I’m pretty sure I heard shooting in here, too.” Had there been? Cookie had a hard time remembering the exact sequence of events.

  “Do we need to get out a ruler?” Scarlet asked, sauntering over to the table like she was just meeting the bunch of them for a late lunch. She completely ignored the drug runners tied and gagged on the floor, but Cookie noticed the very faint tremble to her best friend’s hand, and the way her lips were tighter than normal. She was clearly working very hard to maintain a casual composure, and Cookie for one appreciated it.

  “Excuse me?” Hunter eyed her in confusion.

  “Well, with all the dick measuring you two are doing, I just thought it would be faster.” Scarlet smirked, and Cookie stifled a laugh.

  Dylan had the decency to look properly chastised as he nodded to Cookie and mouthed, “Sorry.” Hunter, on the other hand, let out a huff of impatience

  The exchange was interrupted by a loud, businesslike knock on the front door. “Hancock Sheriff!” Sheriff Watkins’s familiar voice rang out. “Open up!”

  Cookie hopped up and hurried to the front, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she went. She wasn’t surprised to see the two men in the café tied like the rest, or to find Anthony handcuffed but conscious and ungagged in the front room behind the counter. It looked like Dylan had been right on the money, there.

  Sheriff Watkins eyed her closely when Cookie opened the door. “Everyone all right?” the sheriff asked. She had a half dozen men behind her. Cookie hadn’t even realized the Hancock department had that many deputies, and she wondered if some of them had been called in just for this.

  “We’re all fine, thank you,” Cookie answered, stepping back and swinging the door wider so the sheriff and her men could enter. “We’ve got seven for you, all but one unconscious. He’s in here, there are two in the next room, two in the kitchen, and two out back.”

  Watkins nodded and gestured at two of the men. “Go get the ones out back,” she instructed, and they peeled off. Cookie realized belatedly that they were wearing firefighting gear. That explained the large numbers.

  They paused at the counter, and Watkins glared down at Anthony with that stern, grandmotherly look of hers. “Doesn’t look like a hardened drug smuggler,” she muttered, and Anthony paled.

  “He’s a local,” Cookie answered for him. “Anthony something, I don’t know the last name. I’m guessing he got roped into helping them the same way Jimmy Calder did.” At the mention of Jimmy, Anthony’s face paled, and he looked like he was going to be sick.

  “Hmph. Well, if he doesn’t have a record and is willing to play ball, we might be able to cut him a deal,” Watkins offered, clearly for the lobsterman’s benefit. The wa
y his eyes widened, Cookie had a feeling he was eager to cooperate. Which was good, because she doubted they’d get much out of the others.

  Watkins detailed one man to escort Anthony back to the station, and the rest followed her and Cookie into the café, where two more stopped to take those unconscious men into custody. That left the sheriff herself and her one deputy to step into the kitchen.

  “Hello, Sheriff,” Hunter called out as she entered. “Welcome to the party.”

  The sheriff’s mouth quirked into a smile. “I see I’m a little late for all the festivities,” she retorted, glancing at the two men bound on the floor. “But better late than never.” She nodded at each of the assemblage in turn. “Miss Sage. Miss Forest. Mister Creed.” She paused on Scarlet. “I don’t believe we’ve met—I’m Sheriff Watkins.”

  “Scarlet Quinn. I’m an old friend of Cookie’s, just popped in for a visit,” Scarlet replied, stepping forward and offering her hand. Cookie was pleased that she’d even remembered to call her “Cookie” rather than her usual “CJ.” Not that the initials didn’t still match, but it was easier to keep things simple.

  Watkins smiled again. “Welcome to Hancock, Miss Quinn,” she said as they shook. “I’d say you’ve chosen an interesting time to visit, but then with Ms. James it seems like that’s always the case.” The way she said it was half admiring and half amused. Cookie was glad that she didn’t hear a trace of suspicion in the older woman’s voice. She liked Sheriff Watkins, and didn’t want the sheriff thinking that she was deliberately causing trouble.

  It was just that trouble seemed to follow her.

  That thought made her glance over at Dylan, who caught her eye, and she thought she saw a hint of amusement in his expression before his face returned to his previous blank slate. So he’d remembered their conversation as well, but things with him were still not right. She hoped she could fix that. And soon.

  “We’ll get this refuse out of your hair,” Watkins said, waving a hand at the two captives. She frowned at Hunter and Cookie. “If you want to take the lead on interrogating them, be my guest.”

  Cookie only had to share a single quick look with Hunter before they both nodded. “Oh, absolutely,” she replied. “We’ll be right behind you.”

  “Actually, why don’t I help you get them there now,” Hunter offered, stooping to grab Mr. Smuggler off the floor. He hoisted the unconscious criminal onto his shoulder like a sack of flour and stood with a slight grunt, then turned and headed for the back door. Dylan beat him there, and held it open for him.

  Watkins glanced at her phone. “Looks like the crime scene investigator is on his way,” she said. “Ms. Sage, can you make sure he has unrestricted access to your property for the next hour or so?”

  Winter visibly swallowed, but nodded as she eyed one of her more suspicious looking jars.

  “Thank you.” Watkins and her deputy wrestled the other man up, and between them they hauled him out as well, leaving just Cookie, Winter, Rain, Scarlet, and Dylan.

  “Well, I’m glad to see them gone,” Winter said, grabbing the herb jar. After shoving it into a cabinet, she locked it, and then stole a quick, worried glance at Cookie. “Those crooks, I mean. I’m going to have scrub the entire place and use a smudge stick to erase any lingering traces of their negative energy. She shuddered a little at the thought, and Cookie felt a wave of sympathy for her. It wasn’t Winter’s fault the smugglers had chosen to invade her shop and make it their temporary meeting place.

  Rain frowned. “I can’t believe Anthony did this to me!” she burst out suddenly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with that man.” She absentmindedly adjusted the towel tucked around her.

  Cookie raised an eyebrow, her attention focused on her mother’s unclothed state. “What did happen, exactly?” she asked Rain. “We found your clothes all over the lawn. At first I thought you were just… indisposed.”

  Scarlet smothered a laugh, but Rain only scowled more fiercely. “That’s what I thought, too!” she snapped. “Or at least where I thought we were headed. Anthony showed up shortly after Scarlet and Dylan left. I thought he was there for some afternoon delight”—her lips twitched in a smile for a second before morphing into something between a scowl and a pout—“but when I started stripping he didn’t follow suit. Instead he grabbed me, but not in the fun way, and then this car pulled up and the next thing I knew, Anthony and some thug were hustling me into it.” She looked away, blinking rapidly.

  Cookie’s heart lurched as she imagined her mother’s terror, but forced herself to pretend not to notice that she was near tears. If Rain started crying, she’d never get the full story out.

  “Anthony had grabbed a towel off the line, I guess,” she continued, “and he wrapped it around me before we got in the car. But that was the only nice thing he did for me. Can you imagine?” She waved a hand at her own barely concealed body. “To pass up all this?” She shook her head in disbelief. “The boy must need Viagra or something.”

  Cookie couldn’t help but smile. She could see that her mother was upset, and hurt, and probably still feeling the aftereffects of the scare she’d had. But if Rain was already making cracks like that, Cookie suspected she’d be fine.

  And one thing that would help would be knowing those men were behind bars for good. With that in mind, Cookie took a step back toward the door. “I’d better head to the station and help Hunter question them,” she said as she went. “Are you guys okay here?”

  “We’re fine,” Scarlet assured her, reaching out and hugging Rain and Winter to her. “We’ll stay and help Winter clean up after the crime scene investigator is done, then Dylan will bring me and Rain back to the inn. Right?”

  The others all nodded, and it was clear that Winter and Rain were relieved to let Scarlet take charge. Cookie again felt a burst of gratitude that her best friend had chosen now to stop by. She smiled, and Scarlet smiled back, the two of them on the same wavelength as always. Then Cookie glanced at Dylan, who stepped over to get the door for her.

  “I’ll make sure they get home safe,” he assured her as she stepped through.

  “I know you will,” she told him. “Thanks.”

  He nodded, but as he shut the door behind her, Cookie couldn’t help feeling a pang like she’d lost something. Dylan was looking out for her mom and Scarlet and Winter. Of course he was, because he was a good guy. But he hadn’t added anything personal for her, and he still hadn’t smiled at her. Not since he’d seen her in Hunter’s arms.

  Squaring her shoulders, Cookie marched toward the sheriff’s office. Compared to dealing with her complicated love life, grilling a bunch of hardened drug smugglers would be a walk in the park.

  24

  “I’m beat,” Cookie murmured.

  “Can’t imagine why,” Hunter teased. He yelped slightly when she poked him in the side, but was still chuckling as she rested her head against his arm again.

  It was evening, the end of what had certainly been a very long day. They’d only gotten back from the station an hour ago, and they’d eaten a very nice pasta primavera Rain had prepared, complete with side salad and fresh-baked bread.

  “For my saviors,” she’d said, beaming when she’d served them. Apparently fearing for her life made Rain want to feed people. Not that Cookie was complaining. After that she’d sat and chatted with Scarlet a little bit, unwinding, catching up, and enjoying the fact that her best friend was there, even if it was in the midst of insanity. But now Scarlet was in her room on a conference call and Rain was cleaning up, or possibly in her hippie hideout, smoking up. Cookie could hardly blame her mother, given what she’d been through. There were far worse ways to cope with being kidnapped than getting high.

  That meant Cookie and Hunter were left to their own devices. So now they were curled up together on the back porch swing, relaxing and digesting both their meal and the day’s events.

  Things at the station had gone well, better than Cookie had expected. They hadn’t gotten much out of
the drug runners, of course. Those who were conscious had refused to talk or even give their names, and Cookie and Hunter fully expected they’d be lawyered-up by morning. Their boss, Mr. Smuggler, wasn’t talking either, but for a different reason.

  “Broken nose, broken orbital ridge, cracked skull, heavy concussion,” had been the doctor’s report. “What hit him?”

  “I did,” Cookie had replied, daring the man to say anything else. He hadn’t. Instead, he gulped and raised the clipboard in his hands as if he was half afraid she’d start in on him next. Hunter had stepped in, explaining that the man had been threatening innocent lives and that Cookie had beaned him with a heavy glass jar in self-defense.

  “Well, he’s not going to be talking any time soon,” the doctor had concluded, shaking his head. Cookie didn’t feel the least bit guilty about what she’d done. The guy had deserved it. Besides, he was still alive. If she’d had her gun handy, she would’ve shot him.

  They’d hit the jackpot with Anthony, however. As Cookie had guessed, the lobsterman hadn’t been a true member of the drug smugglers’ crew. He’d been hired, like Jimmy Calder, to let them use his traps for their smuggling runs. With Jimmy dead and the smugglers arrested, Anthony had been only too happy to turn state’s evidence against the crooks, and to spill his guts about everything he knew. Which, it turned out, included what exactly had happened to Jimmy.

  “Everything was going fine,” Anthony had told them miserably, huddled in his chair in the interrogation room. “We were pulling in good money, and we weren’t really doing anything different than we normally did, ‘cept we were hauling in drugs ’stead of lobsters.” He shrugged. “I figured if I didn’t, somebody else would, so why not make some cash off it, right?”

  Neither Cookie nor Hunter replied to that as they glared at him across the table.

  He dropped his gaze to his feet, but continued after a minute. “Jimmy thought the same. He wasn’t too thrilled about the drugs, mind you, but he was happy for the money.” He squirmed in his seat. “He kinda needed a lot of it, and fast.”