Backrush

by Jana DeLeon

“Good point.” Luke looked down at the dog. “Sorry, big guy. No more weenies.”

  He could swear Gus gave him a woeful look.

  “How did your knee hold up to paddleboarding?” Pete asked.

  “No stiffness. No nerve pain.”

  Pete nodded. “That’s good. Just make sure you don’t overdo, and when you exert yourself, ice it for twenty minutes afterward.”

  “Yes, Doctor.”

  “I don’t know why I bother. You never listen to a thing unless it’s a direct order from a superior.”

  “Technically, you outrank me, don’t you?”

  “A doctor versus a SEAL is apples to oranges. Besides, everyone treats you guys like gods.”

  “I only play one on missions,” Luke said. “You’re the actual life-or-death guy.”

  “Then maybe you should listen to me once in a while.”

  Luke grinned. “I hear everything you say.”

  Pete snorted. “You just ignore it.”

  “You just requested I listen. You didn’t say anything about doing what you said. But stop your worrying. I iced the knee. I always do after a workout. Trust me, no one wants it back to normal more than me.”

  Pete frowned but didn’t say anything.

  “Look,” Luke said, “I know that’s never going to happen. Normal, that is. But sometimes I have this fantasy thought that if I can get it close enough, they’ll reconsider.”

  “They can’t take the chance. Every member of your team has to be 100 percent and as the team leader, you have to be 200 percent. There’s no margin for error when other men’s lives are on the line.”

  Luke sighed. “You think I don’t know that? That I’d put my men at risk just to sate my own ego? I wouldn’t do that, man. And I know what I’m looking at. I’ve read more about this type of injury than probably an entire medical school. I know the score. I’m just not ready to admit that there’s never an exception.”

  Pete nodded. “I get that. And I don’t blame you. If something happened that caused me to have to give up being a doctor, I don’t know what I’d do. And even though I’d have options, they wouldn’t be what I wanted. Everything else would feel less.”

  “Exactly. I know they’d love for me to be an instructor, but I don’t know that I can do it—train other men to do the job that I want to do. It’s probably selfish of me, but whatever. I’m not going to make excuses for how I feel about it. The entire situation sucks. I’ve been sitting on this sandbar for weeks now, and I’m no closer to an answer than I was the day I left Virginia.”

  “Well, if you ever want to talk things out…go over your options, you know I’m happy to help.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “You have a lot to offer, Luke. Your experience is something that can’t be learned from a textbook, and if you can transfer that knowledge to the men in training, you make them better…safer.”

  Luke nodded. He appreciated Pete’s words, and his friend was right, at least about part of it. Experience was ten times better than training and with every mission, Luke honed his skills and became a better soldier. But how could he convey that to others when a lot of it was instincts that you developed by being in the heat of the action?

  “So, have you hit on that good-looking neighbor yet?” Pete asked.

  The change of subject was so abrupt that Luke didn’t have time to prepare. “What? No.”

  Pete narrowed his eyes at him, then laughed. “You have! You old dog. And?”

  “And nothing. We’re just friends.”

  “Man, that’s sad. Did they remove anything else when they extracted that bullet?”

  “Good common sense, maybe. Look, I made a move in that direction but she’s the one who put on the brakes. She’s got troubles and she’s not interested in additional complications.”

  “What kind of troubles could a chef possibly have? Ran out of oregano?”

  “No. She had serious trouble back in New York.” He told Pete about the run-in with Melody at the pizza joint and what he’d discovered with his subsequent internet search.

  “Wow,” Pete said when he finished. “That sucks. I guess I can’t blame her for not wanting to get involved with anyone. Sounds like her boyfriend took her for a real ride.”

  “And I’m guessing it’s not over. The FBI doesn’t just let people walk away. Not if they think they can squeeze anything out of them.”

  “You think she’s going to testify when he goes to trial?”

  “Probably, although I’m not sure she knows all that much.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because the FBI would never have let her leave if she was a key witness. And they don’t have anyone on her here.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “You think I wouldn’t have noticed? There’s not exactly a lot of places to hide out here. I think I would have seen someone camping behind the dunes or following us on the one main road the island has. It sounds like the FBI has plenty on Patterson without her, but you know how it works. As long as they have her on the line, they can keep going back to that source as long as they need to.”

  “Even if it isn’t yielding anything?”

  Luke shrugged. “The Feds don’t like to let a lead go, even if it’s a dead-end one.”

  Pete studied him for a moment and frowned, but he didn’t ask why Luke held that opinion about federal law enforcement. Luke was glad his friend had such a high level of discretion. He’d rather discuss his knee than explain his feelings about Feds.

  “Have you asked her about it?” Pete asked.

  “No. She’s never mentioned it. Only that her restaurant closed and she didn’t want to talk about it. I don’t figure it’s my place to bring it up and honestly, I can’t blame her for not wanting to go over it again. She’s probably here trying to get past it all.”

  Pete nodded. “I imagine the entire thing is mortifying. Especially since it played out in the media. And you know how they’ll gloss over facts to go straight for the drama.”

  “Yeah. I can’t even imagine how it was for her living in the city after all that went down. Losing her business and all the speculation about her character. And it doesn’t sound like she had anyone helping her out, except her aunt, who was here. It must have been hell.”

  “Then it sounds like she can definitely use a friend. So I guess it’s a good thing you’re going to be one.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Alayna strolled out of the Island Surf Shop with a smile. Mark had been as accommodating as Bea had said he would be and had equipped her with the perfect paddleboard. Even better, it was barely used, but that had gotten her a 30 percent discount over new pricing. Because the board wouldn’t fit in her car and she didn’t have a luggage rack, Mark had offered to deliver it when he closed up the shop for the night. Since he wore a wedding band and she’d spotted a picture behind the desk of him with a pretty redhead and a cute little girl who looked like a combination of both of them, she took his offer as pure island hospitality or good service. Maybe both.

  She crossed the street and headed for the bookstore, wondering once again what Bea wanted her advice on. She’d tried to get more out of her aunt the night before, but Bea had remained close-lipped on the matter, insisting that she needed to see it to understand the question. Maybe Bea was going to finally do something trendy, like add a coffee bar to the store. She had a simple machine on a table next to the front desk so that customers could have a cup while they searched the shelves, but Alayna had been pushing as long as she could remember for her aunt to add an espresso machine and maybe a few baked goods, and charge for it. After the initial investment into the machine, the profit margin on fancy coffee drinks was really good.

  The store was quiet when Alayna entered, the bells over the door signaling her arrival. Her aunt was behind the counter, tapping on the computer and frowning. When she looked up and saw Alayna, her frown disappeared. Nelly, who was shelving some books near the desk, beamed when she saw Alay
na and hurried over to give her a huge hug.

  “Girl, you are prettier than ever,” Nelly said. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. I’ve missed afternoon ice cream cones with you.”

  “We haven’t gone for cones since I graduated from high school,” Alayna said.

  “Then I suppose we have a lot to make up for,” Nelly said. “I’ll expect you here at least once a week for cone day. Bea can give you my schedule.”

  Alayna smiled. “How are you, Nelly? And Harold?”

  “I’m the same,” Nelly said. “He’s as ornery as ever.”

  “He has to live with you,” Bea said. “What do you expect?”

  “What are you talking about?” Nelly asked. “I’m a walking ball of love and light.”

  “Lord help,” Bea said.

  “Anyway,” Nelly said, “we’re doing just fine. How about you?”

  “You look like you’re in a good mood,” Bea observed.

  “That’s because I just bought a paddleboard at a 30 percent discount,” Alayna said.

  Bea broke out into a smile. “Music to my ears. I told you Mark would take care of you. Where’s the board?”

  “He’s delivering it tonight after he closes the shop,” Alayna said.

  Bea nodded. “He’s such a nice young man. Such a shame everything that he’s gone through.”

  “What happened to him?” Alayna asked.

  Mark had seemed upbeat and excited about his shop and her interest in paddleboarding. If he had troubles, she certainly hadn’t seen any sign of them.

  “That pretty young wife of his died of breast cancer a year ago,” Nelly said. “She was only twenty-eight years old. Their daughter, Lily, was only four.”

  Alayna’s chest tightened and her heart broke for the store owner and his young daughter. “That’s awful.”

  “He was a wreck for a long time but of course, he put on a good front for Lily,” Bea said. “And he needed his business to stay afloat, so he couldn’t afford to wallow much. We all chipped in to help, of course. Babysitting, taking him meals. Not me. You know I don’t do babies or meals, but I minded his store for him for a bit and got Nelly to cover for me here.”

  “Since I’m not allergic to a stove, I took some meals,” Nelly said. “It was a really hard time for a while.”

  Alayna shook her head. “I can’t imagine. He seems so positive and happy. I never would have known…”

  “Oh, he’s better now,” Nelly said. “Not recovered completely, but then I don’t think one ever does recover completely from something like that.”

  “No. I guess they don’t,” Alayna agreed.

  “But he’s a good businessman and a great father,” Bea said. “It was a benefit for the island when he decided to open his shop here. He and Lily live in an apartment above the shop. Before Beth died, they had a house on the mainland, but he figured this was a better option. Saves money and he has a sitter who comes in during business hours to keep Lily, but he’s right downstairs if they need anything.”

  “He probably feels better living here after all the support the islanders gave him,” Alayna said.

  Bea nodded. “We take care of our own.”

  The bells above the door jangled, and Nelly gave her arm a squeeze before going up to greet the customers.

  “So I’m dying to know what it is you want my advice on,” Alayna said. “I’m really hoping you’re finally going to put in that coffee station I keep trying to push on you.”

  “No. I’m still not interested in handling anything to do with food. You know me. I can’t boil water without there being an issue. Just last week, I caught pizza rolls on fire in my toaster oven.”

  Alayna stared. “You didn’t tell me that!”

  Bea waved a hand in dismissal. “What were you going to do about it? The fire extinguisher took care of it and now I have a bit more space on my countertop, although I guess I should find something to cover the scorch mark.”

  “You’re going to be the death of me,” Alayna said. “Pizza rolls don’t catch fire, you know. When was the last time you cleaned the bottom of the oven?”

  “That’s not relevant.”

  “Uh-huh.” Alayna shook her head.

  “Anyway, this isn’t about my sketchy kitchen appliances.”

  “Or questionable cooking and cleaning skills.”

  “That either,” Bea said. “Come upstairs with me.”

  Bea motioned to Nelly and the other woman nodded as Bea headed for the back of the store. Alayna fell in step next to her, and when they reached the stairs, Bea unlocked the small gate at the bottom that she’d installed to keep the younger patrons from bounding up. As far as Alayna knew, the space above the bookstore had always been office space leased out to an attorney. She’d only been there once before and had entered the offices through the stairs at the back of the building where there was a larger parking lot, not the inside staircase located in the bookstore. Briefly, she wondered if Bea thought Alayna needed legal representation. She hoped her aunt hadn’t been worried about that. Her attorney in New York was handling everything. Alayna thought she’d made that clear.

  When they reached the top of the stairs, Bea unlocked the double doors and pushed them open and Alayna could see that clearly things had changed. The office that had once contained rows of filing cabinets, shelves full of law books, and a copy machine that never seemed to stop running was now quiet and completely empty.

  “What happened to the attorney?” Alayna asked.

  “He bought a building on the mainland a couple months ago,” Bea said. “He added a partner to handle real estate law and they needed more space than I had here. And it will be more convenient for clients to not have to make a trip out to the island. This space was fine when he was small and tended mostly to stuff for locals, but it wouldn’t do for expansion.”

  “Have you listed it again?”

  “No. I keep thinking I need to get to it. It’s not doing anyone any good just sitting here, but then every time I start to write up the listing, I never quite finish it.”

  “Are you thinking about expanding the bookstore?”

  “Not exactly.” She gave Alayna a hard look. “I think this island could use a fine dining establishment. An intimate place with stellar food. And I know the perfect person to make that happen.”

  “Me?” Alayna shook her head. “I don’t know that I ever want to own my own place again. And even if I did, I don’t have the capital to do it.”

  “I do, and I can’t think of a better investment.”

  “Bea, I can’t take your money. You’ve already done so much—too much—and you have to think about retirement.”

  Bea waved a hand in dismissal. “You remember that old uncle of mine?”

  “The one who kept a pet pig in his house and fired buckshot at anyone who pulled into his driveway?”

  “Yeah, well, the old coot kicked it a couple years ago and he left me everything. I figured I’d be bulldozing that shack and eating bacon for a month, but that miser saved every dime he could. I used what I inherited to buy a property that I flipped, then bought another and flipped again, and well, I just sold off a storage facility last month. Made a good profit on it. I need to roll that money over into something. I can’t think of someone better than you. Would have done it before but you insisted on doing it on your own.”

  Alayna held in a sigh. And look how that had turned out. If she’d borrowed money from Bea and not Warren, then she’d still have a restaurant. Maybe. Well, probably not. Warren’s crimes had ruined her reputation to the point that the restaurant probably wouldn’t have made it regardless. And then Bea’s money would have been lost along with her own, so in the big scheme of things, not letting Bea invest had been the right decision.

  Just like it was now.

  “I just can’t—” Alayna started.

  Bea waved a hand in dismissal. “Knowing how your pride is, we could do it all aboveboard. I’d invest for a percentage interest. Then
you’d be helping me with my retirement.”

  Alayna stared at her aunt, overwhelmed. “I don’t know what to say. Your offer is incredible, but I can’t allow you to take that risk with your money. If you’d invested in my restaurant in New York, it would have all been lost. Instead, you’ve managed to turn what you inherited into more. I don’t want to be the one who ends your winning streak.”

  “What risk? Jesus, girl, you served me a meal last night unlike any I’ve had in years and then told me it was no big deal to make. If that was no big deal, then I sure as hell want to see what you come up with when you’re putting in some effort.”

  “But fine dining? On the island?”

  “It’s high time we offer something besides fried seafood, burgers, and pizza. Sometimes adults want a nice night out where there’s table linens instead of paper. And it wouldn’t be just the islanders who’d come. Once word gets out, all the mainlanders will be clamoring for reservations. I meant it when I said you had a gift.”

  “I don’t think I’m ready. I don’t know that I ever will be.”

  “That’s fear talking. And after all you’ve been through, I understand. But you’re not just a chef. You’re an artist. Can you honestly tell me you’d be happy whipping up someone else’s recipes for the rest of your life? Following someone else’s orders on offerings, presentation, decor, and pricing?”

  Alayna frowned. Bea had hit on the very things that had her hesitating every time she thought about contacting local restaurants about a job. Could she follow someone else’s menu—just cook the food and never question or ask for change?

  Bea gave her arm a squeeze. “Anyway, you don’t have to decide today. I paid this building off years ago. It’s not costing me a dime for this space to sit here while you think about it. But the storage sale profit just needs to be reinvested by year-end so I can avoid a huge tax bill. So either you get the benefit of the money or the IRS does.”

  “You’re playing dirty.”

  Bea grinned. “Whatever works. Give it some thought. Take all the time you need. But I’m right about this. It could be a great thing for you, me, and everyone else.”