A few hours ago, he was thinking of going back. It was nothing but an impossible dream. He had lost his edge. He was physically impaired. Who would want him?
He had been stupid to even consider it.
FOUR
A persistent ring split the silence of the still night. Allison pulled the spare pillow over her head, trying to block out the annoying sound, and momentarily enjoyed total silence.
Then it came again, another series of rings followed by heavy knocks. The next moment, she was totally awake, tension spiking through her. Someone was at her door.
Her eyes sought out the alarm clock sitting on her nightstand, and her tension escalated. Who would be ringing her bell at 4:00 a.m.?
She swung her feet over the edge of the bed and reached for the robe she had left hanging on the bedpost. Her heart pounded out an erratic rhythm, in spite of the continual mental reminder that burglars don’t knock. But at 4:00 a.m., friends don’t, either.
She shrugged into her robe and, for the second time that week, reached for Tom’s Glock. The cold metal felt just as lethal as before, the threat just as real.
As she tiptoed down the stairs, a third series of rings drowned out her muffled footsteps, and her heart jumped to double time. Someone stood on the other side of the door, his shadowed form barely visible through the patterned glass. A watery weakness settled in her knees, and she leaned against the varnished banister.
When she reached the foyer, she pressed herself against the wall by the door.
“Who is it?” Her voice quavered in spite of the force she tried to put behind the words.
“It’s Officer Bobby.”
She released a pent-up breath as all the tension flowed out of her. The Southern drawl was unmistakable. She lowered the weapon and reached for the door. But her relief dissipated before she even twisted the lock. A police officer on her steps at 4:00 a.m. couldn’t be a good thing.
When she swung open the door, Bobby’s eyes dipped to the weapon then back up to meet hers. “I’m sorry to bother you, but we got a call from Blake. Apparently, someone was on your boat.”
Her chest clenched, and dread trickled over her. What did they do to her boat? She didn’t keep valuables on there, but she did have hundreds of dollars in electronics. And they stayed locked up. Cedar Key was a low-crime place, but she didn’t believe in tempting fate. The front hatch was locked from inside, and a padlock secured the main hatch.
Of course, a good set of bolt cutters would make quick work of most padlocks.
She sucked in a stabilizing breath. “I’m getting dressed and heading right over.”
Bobby nodded. “I’ll meet you there.”
Ten minutes later, she braked to a screeching halt at the marina and jumped from her car. Bobby was already there, standing on the dock. Blake was, too. He hurried toward her, his limp pronounced. He was in pain and trying hard to hide it.
As he drew closer, it was in his face, too, visible under the glow of the marina lights. Deep creases marked the space between his brows, and his jaw held a tightness she had never seen before. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out what had happened. He had seen the intruder and given chase. He had overexerted himself.
And he did it for her.
Whatever anger she had felt toward him dissipated in an instant, replaced by tenderness and something else she refused to acknowledge. Blake would make a great friend. Anything beyond that was out of the question. He was in Cedar Key just long enough to find himself before going back to his real life. In the meantime, she would show him the same Old Florida hospitality that she was shown when she first arrived. Nothing more.
Besides, she had her own issues. It would be a long time before she would let down her guard enough to trust someone again. So she refused to even entertain any romantic thoughts about Blake. No matter how good-looking he was. Or how much concern filled those dark eyes. Her life was full enough without the complication of a man and his secrets.
She squared her shoulders, and her eyes met his. “So what happened?”
“I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to take a walk. When I came up on deck, the guy was getting off your boat. My view of him was blocked by the boat in the next slip, but I saw your mast tilt.”
She headed up the dock, and he fell in behind her, continuing his explanation.
“I think it was the same guy who broke into your house.”
She cast a glance at him over her shoulder. “Why do you say that?”
“He was looking for something. I don’t think he stole anything.”
“You’ve been on my boat?”
“No, I just shined my flashlight in, and things are in a shambles.”
She stepped from the dock into the cockpit, steadying herself with the boom. Blake was right. The same person who had broken into her house was probably responsible for the mess in Tranquility’s cabin. Brochures, charts, cushions and dishes littered the teak floor, illuminated by the beam of Blake’s flashlight.
She stepped into the opening and started down the steps. The lock lay on top of the cabin, its shackle cut in two, the obvious victim of the bolt cutters she had thought about earlier.
Once inside the cabin, she flipped the switch to the battery-powered wall lamp, and soft light filled the galley. The boat tilted, and she turned to see who had just stepped on. It was Bobby.
“Does it look like they took anything?”
Her gaze circled the cabin and came to rest on the navigation station. Although the brochures she had left on the small work surface had been swept onto the floor, the instrument panel was untouched. The VHF and Garmin were exactly as she had left them. No one had even tried to remove them.
“Not that I can tell. Everything’s just ransacked, like my house.” She was still trying to put the place back together.
Bobby moved down the steps to stand beside her in the galley. “Someone’s awfully determined to get his hands on that paper. Good thing you gave it to us. It wouldn’t be too safe to have it in your possession right now.”
She glanced through the open companionway to where Blake stood on the dock. Nothing in his stance indicated that he had heard Bobby’s words. He stood in profile, staring out toward where Atsena Otie lay off the southern tip of Cedar Key.
“Well, I’m going to see if I can lift any prints. We didn’t have much luck before. The few good ones we got don’t seem to match anything in the system.”
“Probably because they’re mine.”
She followed him off the boat, then waited on the dock with Blake while Bobby continued to his cruiser. In a few minutes he would be back with his brush and sticky black powder. By now, she should be a pro at removing it from all household surfaces.
Last night, she had worked until midnight and gotten her bedroom put back together. She had planned to reward herself by sleeping till six thirty, then enjoying a leisurely breakfast before her nine o’clock charter. So much for plans. By the time she got everything cleaned up and ready for the day, she’d be lucky to grab a Clif bar.
A weary sigh escaped, and she turned to see Blake watching her, his eyes filled with tenderness.
“Your house, and now your boat. Are you okay?”
She lifted her shoulders in a prolonged shrug. “Yeah, I’m all right. It doesn’t look like he took anything, and nothing’s damaged. So it could be worse.”
“You must be a glass-half-full kind of lady.”
“Not always. Sometimes I let life kick me around a little before I remember that it doesn’t do any good to feel sorry for myself.”
Bobby approached with his kit, then continued on to the boat. Instead of following, she closed her eyes, drew in a salt-scented breath and released it slowly, letting the tranquility of the night wrap around her. The last of her tension drained away with the so
othing sounds of the marina—the clanging of rigging, the lapping of water and the muffled thump of boats against the rubber-lined docks. Such was the seaside—peaceful, but never silent.
She opened her eyes and smiled up at Blake. “Thank you for what you did.”
He cocked a brow. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Yeah, you did. You tried to catch the guy.”
“A lot of good it did me.” His tone was thick with sarcasm and a healthy dose of self-loathing. He started to cross his arms, then winced, dropping them back to his sides.
“You’re hurt.” She reached for him, resting her hand against his forearm.
His muscles tensed beneath her palm, and he twisted away. “I’m fine.”
For several moments, she watched him in silence. He stood silhouetted against the flickering eastern sky, his jaw set in a firm line. Apparently, whatever expectations he set for himself didn’t allow for failure.
Typical man. Tom had been the same way. Shortly before he was killed, he hinted at some serious regrets, bad choices he had made. All he wanted, he had said, was to let her know how much he loved her, to give her everything she deserved. Why couldn’t he see that she wasn’t interested in things?
“Hey, you tried, and that’s what counts. It wasn’t your job or your boat, so you didn’t have to do anything.”
He turned to face her. “I really wanted to catch this guy. I thought I’d be able to put a stop to all this. Now he’s still out there.”
“I appreciate that. But quit being so hard on yourself.” She gave him a gentle shove. “You had a total knee replacement, what, a year ago?”
“Eighteen months.”
“Okay, eighteen months. If you’re expecting to be able to do everything you did before, you’re being unrealistic.”
She glanced over at her boat, where Bobby was still hard at work, then turned her attention back to Blake.
“Don’t worry. We’ll catch the creep sooner or later.” She tried to infuse her tone with confidence she didn’t feel. “Cedar Key isn’t that big, and people watch out for each other. It’s just a matter of time till someone sees something.”
“You’re probably right.” He gave her a half smile, then tilted his head toward her boat. “Do you have a charter this morning?”
“Yeah, nine o’clock.”
“Are you going to be able to get everything cleaned up in time?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have a choice. Usually my customers stay up on deck. But if someone needs to use the head, or just get out of the sun, they’ve got to be able to walk through the cabin without picking up black powder or traversing an obstacle course.”
“How about letting me help you?”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I know. But when I’m up, I’m up. I don’t go back to sleep. So the way I look at it, I can go back to my boat and twiddle my thumbs, waiting for the sun to come up. Or I can take Brinks for a walk through the deserted streets of Cedar Key, waiting for the sun to come up. Or I can spend the next couple of hours helping a pretty charter captain clean up her boat and not even think about how long it’ll be till the sun comes up.”
Allison smiled as a little of the weight began to lift. “Well, when you put it that way...”
“I’ll even take you to breakfast afterward.”
“I should take you to breakfast.”
“Before you make any promises, you’d better wait and see if I’m worth it.”
Oh, he would definitely be worth it. She had no doubt. Seeing the mess in her boat was like a kick in the gut, especially knowing what she still had to deal with at home. If Blake did nothing more than lend moral support, he’d be worth the cost of a meal at Ken’s. But something told her he’d do a lot more than that. His injury hadn’t taken away his ambition.
She leaned back against one of the pilings and crossed her arms. Finally, Bobby emerged from the cabin with his kit.
“Sorry to leave you with a mess.”
“No problem. I think we’ve got it under control.”
When she smiled over at Blake, the warmth in his eyes created a flutter in her stomach.
Yeah, they had it under control. Within the hour, everything would be back in its place and all surfaces sparkling clean. Then she would enjoy that anticipated leisurely breakfast. In the company of Blake.
It was shaping up to be not such a bad morning after all.
* * *
Blake watched Bobby walk to his patrol car, then followed Allison onto her boat. Even with stuff strewn everywhere, it was obvious Tranquility was well maintained. With a good-size galley and dining area and berths fore and aft, she would make a comfortable live-aboard.
Allison bent to pick up some towels the intruder had tossed onto the floor. “I’m not sure where to begin.”
“How about if we start with cleaning the galley countertop so we’ve got a clean surface to work with.”
“That sounds like a plan.” She pulled some paper towels from the roll mounted in the galley. “So, are there any inside secrets to cleaning this up?”
“I don’t know how inside it is, but once the loose powder is wiped up, warm, soapy water works pretty well. Not that I know firsthand.”
“No, I’m sure your experience is with making the mess instead of cleaning it up.”
“Not me. I was undercover narcotics. Drug buys and sting operations. No playing with crime scene kits.”
She grinned up at him. “Okay. You’re off the hook.”
While she wiped down the countertop with dry paper towels, he ran water into the sink and added a squirt of dish detergent. Soon the mottled gray-and-white surface shined. Over the next forty minutes, he tackled the teak cabinets and other areas, and she set out returning everything to its proper place.
Finally, she stepped from the front berth into the dining area and closed the door. “Well, that’s the last of it. I appreciate your help. I was feeling so overwhelmed, it would have taken me three times as long to do it by myself.”
“No problem. I enjoyed it.” The past hour had left him with an odd sense of contentment that he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He reached up to rest his hands in the companionway opening.
Her eyes widened, and he jerked his arm down. But it was too late. She had already seen his bloodied elbow and forearm.
“You did get hurt.”
“Just a little scrape. No big deal.”
His minimizing his injuries obviously hadn’t allayed her worries. Her eyes were still wide, and furrows marked the space between her brows.
“You fell. What about your knee?”
“My knee’s all right. As soon as I realized I was going down, I made sure I landed on my left side.”
She reached past him to remove a first-aid kit from a cabinet.
He eyed her with suspicion. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to take care of that.” She tilted her head toward his arm. “It’s going to hurt like the dickens tomorrow.”
What was she talking about? It already hurt like the dickens. Besides the sting of scraped skin, his elbow felt bruised to the bone. He was lucky it wasn’t broken.
“You’re making a big deal out of nothing. I fell, got a little boo-boo. No big deal.” He averted his gaze, embarrassment washing over him anew at having to say it out loud.
She took his hand and squeezed. “Hey, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
“What do you mean?” Even as the question spilled from his mouth, he knew exactly what she meant. She could already read him like a book. It was kind of scary.
“All you guys have these preconceived notions of what makes a real man. Then when something happens and you can’t live up to those impossible standards, it totally messes with your psyche.” She pl
aced the first-aid kit on the counter, opened it and began laying out scissors, gauze and antibiotic ointment, continuing to speak as she worked.
“You were injured in the line of duty. That makes you a hero in my book. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Yeah, right. She’d change her tune in a hurry if she knew the whole story. He was no hero. Heroes brought down the bad guys without killing innocent children.
She carefully lifted his left hand and placed it against his chest, exposing the underside. “Now, let me clean this and get some ointment on it. It’s the least I can do after you went all Rambo on me and tried to tackle a possible killer.”
“This isn’t necessary.” He mumbled the words, and even he had to admit that his objections were losing their fire. He would let her do her nurturing. At least he had had the presence of mind to change into pants before she arrived, or she’d be doctoring his leg, too.
She soaked a hand towel and began cleaning his wounds. She was doing a much better job than he had. Although he had tried to pick all the small pieces of gravel out of his arm, seeing the underside of one’s elbow wasn’t exactly easy.
“So what happened the night you were injured? You said a drug buy went bad?” She asked the question without looking up from her work. She had finished cleaning his wounds and was applying liberal amounts of antibiotic ointment to the underside of his arm. The salve was soothing. Or maybe that was her touch.
“Yeah.”
“What happened?”
He drew in a deep breath. “We were all in position, getting ready to bust a big dealer. I showed up to make the buy, not realizing my cover had been blown. The perp came out with a semiautomatic. We returned fire and took him down.”
And a twelve-year-old kid had been in the wrong place at the wrong time and had paid for it with his life.
The familiar gut-wrenching guilt pressed down on him, threatening to smother him. No, he couldn’t think about it now, not with Allison there. He didn’t need to look up to know that she was studying him. And she would know there was more to the story.
But he couldn’t talk about it. With anyone.
Shattered Haven Page 5