by Mark Stone
Death on Shorewatch Bay
Lifeguards of Shorewatch Bay Book 1
Mark Stone
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
1
I pulled at the torp and ran down from the tower. Even after all these years, my heart still thumped like thunder against my ribcage anytime I got the chance to rescue somebody.
The beach was crowded today, filled to beyond what reasonable capacity would be with college kids looking to recapture spring break during the summertime, tourists who envisioned dreams coming true on sandy beaches, and locals who somehow still hadn’t learned that this was the busiest time of the year. That was to say that there were a million dots bouncing around in front of me, a million bikini- and trunks-clad dots all trying to have the time of their lives and flaunting that desire in front of the very real danger that existed on this and every beach in the world. Each one of those dots was a soul, and every one of them was in my charge.
The soul that most caught my attention right now looked to be a young woman bobbing helplessly a few hundred feet offshore. The tide wasn’t strong today, but judging from her face, arms, and shoulders, she was a petite thing, and the waves can be deceptive if you don’t know what you’re doing.
With eyes on the woman, I hit the sand hard, running from Tower 15, my tower, as quickly as my feet would carry me. We work by the 10/20 rule here on Hollywood Beach, and even though here in Florida, we’re a million miles away from that other Hollywood, we still take our jobs every bit as seriously as if we spent our days rescuing starlets and film moguls.
Ten seconds. That’s how long I had to react from the instant I saw the woman bobbing in the ocean. I saved about five of them with my quick reaction time, and that was a good thing because given how far out she was, I might need a second or two over the twenty the rule gave me to actually reach her.
Not that I wasn’t giving it my all. With the torp in my left hand beaming bright orange against the sun, I cut a line through the throngs of people on the beach, my gaze and my focus trained entirely and solely on the life I needed to save. This was who I was. Being a lifeguard, helping the people who needed it the most, and making sure this place of dreams didn’t turn into a realm of nightmares was my life’s work. It wasn’t a job for some snot-nosed teenager, like so many movies would ask you to believe. It wasn’t a breeze of an occupation, and I wasn’t sitting up in my tower fawning over women in bikinis and popping beers all day. This was real. This was life or death, and right now, I was the only person in the whole of the world who could keep this woman alive.
Making as much of a straight line toward the woman as possible, given the amount of people on the beach and the way none of them seemed to understand what I was doing or the urgency of it, I jumped over a couple making out on a beach towel and took a hard left at an umbrella and ice chest surrounded by at least a dozen kids and their parents.
Finally, and blissfully, I hit the water. It’s hard for me to explain the way I feel when I’m submerged in the ocean. I have to imagine it’s what Shakespeare felt when he wrote all those plays or what Picasso felt when he picked up a paintbrush. Not that I’m saying I’m anything like the two of them. They were artists, and I’m a tactician. I always have been. I never cared about how I looked out there, never cared about the way anyone saw me. The only thing that mattered to me was the save and making sure I did it as well as I could.
Diving into the salt of the ocean, I felt at home. I was weightless there, both in body and spirit. None of the crap that held me back in life could touch me out in the Atlantic. This was where I truly belonged, and if I were as good as I thought I was, as good as I needed to be, this woman would live to see another day.
Going under always leaves you cold at first. Adjusting to the water is always a shock to the body. Still, mine had seen more time with the sea than most would ever dream of. I knew my way around here, and even with my eyes closed, I knew I’d be able to get to this woman.
I moved quickly, the torp in my hand as I guided my body toward my intended destination. Feet moving, hips swaying, and arms pushing forward, I had always been a good swimmer. In fact, when I was younger, there was real talk of my going to the Olympics. Life doesn’t always happen the way you think it should, though.
My dreams of the Olympic gold died on a night I rarely allow myself to think about, and ever since then, there was never a doubt about what I needed to do or who I needed to be.
I heard the woman ahead. Lifting my head, I opened my eyes to see her. She was bobbing, trying to tread water, but she was exhausted. Her eyes met mine, and in that instant, I saw something inside them that I recognized, something that pulled the much needed air in my lungs right out.
This woman gave up.
“No!” I screamed as she fell under. “Dammit!”
Diving back under, I opened my eyes. The salt stung them, and they screamed to be closed, but I denied them. This was important. It was, as so often happened out here, a moment of truth.
Catching sight of her, I swam down and scooped her into my arms. Swimming back up to the surface, I wrapped my right arm around her and turned her head to the side in an attempt to let any swallowed water drain as best it could.
If she had been conscious, I would have told her to grab onto the torpedo buoy while I pulled her back to shore. She wasn’t, though, and since I had no way of being sure she’d keep ahold of the torp, I had to hold her with my right arm until I got her to safety.
As I swam back to shore and made it to the beach, I saw that people had finally taken notice of what was going on. That happened a lot. I swear, someone could be struggling for an hour, thrashing and treading water, and not one person would notice. The second one of us springs into action, though, all the attention moves to us.
Running back out to the shore with the woman in my arms, I laid her down and checked for breathing.
Damn. Nothing.
A crowd had formed around me. Looking up, I barked, “Back up! Give us some room!”
They did as I asked. In situations like this, people are usually scared senseless. If I’d have told them to hop on one leg while dancing a jig, they probably would have attempted it.
Taking a deep breath, I started chest compressions.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.
Then, tilting her head back, I pressed her lips to mine and performed mouth to mouth. Pulling back, I started the compressions again.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Sev—
Suddenly, she sputtered, coughing up water and turning on her side. Everyone around us started to cheer, but I just stayed there with her as she coughed, as she shook.
“Danny,” a familiar voice said from above me. Looking up, I saw one of my co-workers and good friends, Riley. He had his shades on and there was a big smile stretching
across his face. He was Tower 9. So, for him to be all the way over here, this must have made a bigger splash than I figured. “Damn, Danny. Look at you, saving the day.”
“Doing my job, Riley,” I said, half breathless.
“Yeah,” he muttered. Then pushing his glasses down the bridge of his nose, he asked, “You have no idea who this woman is, do you? You don’t know who you just saved?”
I looked down at her again, her eyes open and looking up at me with a mix of fear, shame, and gratitude in them.
“You’re going to be okay,” I whispered, taking her hand in mine and squeezing it. Then, looking back up at Riley, I admitted, “I do not. Should I?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Either way, this is about to get very interesting.”
2
“I don’t know what you’re grinning about. It’s really not that big of a deal,” I said, looking over at Riley as we walked into the lifeguard station to pick up our things at the end of the day. While I really didn’t fit the bill of the tanned, blond surfer dude that most people think of when the term ‘lifeguard’ is used, Riley absolutely did. He grew up in California, closer to that other Hollywood than the one we resided in now, and you could definitely tell it from the look of him. Feathered blond hair, a bright smile, and a tattoo of the infinity symbol on his right bicep, he’s the kind of guy I would have normally rolled my eyes at. In fact, we didn’t get along for a long time after he started here in Hollywood Beach. He struck me as the type of guy who was full of himself, the sort of man who thought he was God’s gift to women and Florida’s gift to swimmers.
I never thought he’d fit in here on Shorewatch, the squad of lifeguards who patrolled this beach. And the thing was, I might have been a little wrong. After butting heads for almost six months, a funny thing happened. We worked together on a save one day. I stopped seeing him as a pampered pretty boy and he stopped seeing me as a hard ass. Now we just see each other as friends. In fact, I learned Riley wasn’t the vapid person I thought he was. He was deep and had even finished a law degree before deciding it wasn’t for him and getting into the business of saving lives as opposed to defending them.
“She’s the mayor’s daughter, Danny. How is that not a big deal?” Riley asked, shaking his head as we walked toward the lockers. “She’s basically Hollywood royalty.”
“Hollywood, Florida royalty?” I asked, furrowing my brow. “I don’t think there’s any such thing. She’s just like any other person we save. There’s no difference.”
“Oh, there’s definitely a difference,” Riley said, opening his locker and pulling out his duffle bag. “I can assure you, Danny Chase, that there is a big difference. I mean, not for the work. You saved her just like you’d save the next person in the water, but the next person doesn’t have the ear of someone who can literally give us all raises. Plus, it doesn’t hurt that she’s gorgeous.”
“What?” I asked, shaking my head and ignoring the ‘gorgeous’ comment. It might have been true, but it was also completely beside the point. What someone looked like didn’t matter when you were on the job, even if that person was wearing a bikini. “I’m not even sure that’s in the mayor’s job description, but if it is, I doubt one afternoon is going to be enough to convince him to give everybody raises.”
“You don’t know that,” Riley stated flatly. “Something like drowning is a traumatic experience. Who's to say Gina doesn’t go back to Daddy, crying her silver spoon-fed eyes out and telling him how the marine safety personnel on the beaches here are both underpaid and underappreciated?” He shrugged. “I mean, she did give you a hug and tell you that she was never going to forget you.”
“They all say that,” I replied, pulling out my own duffle bag and stuffing my water bottle, food containers, and sunglasses into it. “If all the people who promised to never forget me actually didn’t, I’d have the biggest funeral the world’s ever seen.”
“Maybe you will. You’re not dead yet. Who knows?” Riley asked.
“Whatever you say, Riley. I’m just saying I doubt that the mayor’s daughter is going to run back to her father using words like ‘underappreciated’ and ‘underpaid’. Even if she did, I don’t think he’d listen.” I shook my head. “Nothing is going to come from this.”
“Oh, ye of little faith,” Riley said.
“I actually have a lot of faith,” I replied, unzipping my duffle and stuffing my empty water bottle in it. “I just don’t usually put it on other people.”
“Except for me, right?” Riley asked, shooting me a smile that would have pissed me off when he first got here but now just reminded me that the man was somewhat of an overgrown teenage boy—all heart and libido, with very little thought to reality or maturity.
“At least he’d have it in somebody,” another familiar voice said from behind me. Turning, I saw a face that would stop traffic in any neighborhood. And that wasn’t even taking into consideration the fact that the face was connected to a perfect bathing suit-clad body, and best of all, a mind that had kept me guessing for years now.
“Jules, I sense that you have something to add to the conversation,” I said, slinging the duffle bag over my shoulder and grinning at the woman. Of all the lifeguards on Hollywood Beach, I liked to think I was the best, and there were probably a lot of people who would tell you that I was. The rest of the people, though, would undoubtedly give the title to the woman standing in front of me, and not just because of who her father was.
“I always have something to add. You’re just not always in the mood to hear it,” she replied, tilting her head to the side so that her dark bangs hung to one end of her forehead.
“This one can be a little bit fickle when it comes to moods,” Riley said, slamming his hands down on my shoulders and giving them a squeeze. “He’s a delicate rose, you know.”
“Never seen a rose with this much peach fuzz,” Jules said, letting her thumb trace my left cheek.
“I’m a grown man. Grown men don’t have peach fuzz. This is a five o’clock shadow, and since it’s almost seven now,” I said, looking at the clock on the wall behind Jules, “I’d say it’s a little late.” I shrugged. “Speaking of the time, I should probably get going.”
“Yeah, about that. You can’t,” Jules said lightly, straightening her head (and her bangs). “Miller wants to see you in his office. Guess you did something bad.”
“Or something good,” Riley said, his hands still on my shoulders. “Did you hear that my guy here saved Gina Russell from drowning today?”
“I sure didn’t, but then again, that name doesn’t mean anything to me,” Jules said.
“Gina is Mayor Russell’s daughter,” Riley explained.
Jules shook her head. “I’m not talking about politics with you. I could literally spend my time watching grass grow, and it would be more productive,” the woman said with her hands on her hips.
“It’s not about politics. It’s about cash money. My man here is gonna get us all raises,” Riley said, squeezing my shoulders again.
“Stop doing that,” I said, shrugging away from his grip. “Nobody’s getting any raises. I’m telling you, nothing is going to come from this.”
“There’s that go get ‘em attitude that’s going to get the job done,” Riley said.
“Shut up and go home,” I said, smiling at my friend. “You’re here at six tomorrow, and you need rest.”
“How is it that you know my schedule better than I do?” Riley asked.
“Don’t take it too hard. I know everyone’s schedule better than they do,” I said, nodding at my friend and walking toward Miller’s office. As I went, I noticed that Jules came along with me. “Everything okay?” I asked.
“Nate is shipping out next weekend,” Jules said, sighing loudly and letting her face tighten up. “We’re having a kind of party for him before he leaves and—”
“No,” I said quickly without breaking stride.
“Danny, would you please just listen to me for a second?” Jul
es asked, shaking her head.
“As long as you’re not going to ask me to go to that party,” I said, settling in front of Miller’s door.
“You know how important you are to him,” she said, her shoulders slumping as she spoke. “You’re best friends.”
“We’re not best friends, Jules,” I said without giving her even a second to continue. “We haven’t been best friends, or even civil, in a long time. You know that.”
“Of course, I know that,” Jules argued, throwing her hands into the air. “What I don’t know is why. What happened, Danny?”
“He’s your brother, Jules. If you want to know why Nate and I aren’t friends anymore, then you should ask him,” I said.
“I tried,” she answered. “I’ve tried a hundred times. He won’t even talk to me about it. He’s a stubborn jackass. You know that.”
“I do know that, but you know I’m not much better,” I replied.
“He’s going overseas, Danny. He won’t be back for months,” Jules said, her voice shaking. “If he even comes back at all.”
“Don’t put that on me,” I said, taking a deep breath.
“I’m not,” she said. “I’m not putting it on anyone. He’s doing what he feels he has to. I just wish he didn’t have to go over there thinking the best friend he ever had hates him. That’s all.”
“Jules,” I started, sighing, “I just can’t—”
“Think about it,” she said, touching my arm and cutting me off. “I’m not asking you to say yes right now. I just want you to think about it. And you know, say yes later.” She laughed hard and batted her beautiful brown eyes at me.
