by Nora Roberts
“Back off!”
He coughed. It was the only way his body could gather air. “What? What the hell?” He was too shocked for anger, too busy trying to breathe normally again to do anything but stare into her suddenly furious face.
“You think I want your hands on me?”
He managed the breath, rubbed gingerly at his stomach. “Yes.”
“Well, think again. Nobody juggles me with another woman.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“And don’t pull that innocent act. Maybe you think you can pretend you forget you’ve been hitting on me when you decide to hit on her, and vice versa, but that’s taking the absentminded professor act one step too far.”
“Who? What?”
She bunched both fists and nearly used them. Very nearly used them. “You’re not worth it.”
She turned on her heel and stalked into the women’s locker room.
She kicked the wall, just because it felt good, then limped to her locker. She was just about to strip off her sports bra when Mac swung in after her.
“You turn around and march straight out of here,” she ordered. “Otherwise I’m arresting you for lewd and lascivious behavior.”
He didn’t turn, he didn’t march. He stalked, seriously surprising her, until he stood toe-to-toe with her.
“I’m entitled to an explanation of what just went on in there.”
“You’re not entitled to anything from me. Now beat it.”
“If you think you can sashay in there, tease me half to death, punch me in the stomach—”
“It was an elbow jab. And I’ve never sashayed in my life.”
“You deliberately came on to me with the express purpose of slapping me back. I want to know why.”
“Because I don’t like cheats, I don’t like sneaks. And I don’t like men who try to see how many women they can sleep with at one time, especially when they’re trying to add me to the list.”
“I haven’t slept with anyone. I haven’t even gone out with anyone since I’ve been here.”
“Let’s add ‘I don’t like liars’ to that list.”
He took her firmly by the elbows, lifted her straight off her toes. “I don’t lie. And don’t even think about spitting any magic at me.”
She opened her mouth, shut it again. When she spoke, it was dead calm. “Take your hands off me.”
He set her on her feet, took a full step back. “I’ve made it clear I’m interested in you on a personal level. It happens that I’m not interested, at the moment, in anyone else on that same level. I haven’t juggled anyone. I don’t have the reflexes for it.”
“You bought a bottle of fancy wine and spent an evening snuggled up to Mia.”
“Where the hell do you get this?” Flustered, he dragged his hands through his hair. “I went to Mia’s for dinner, though that’s completely my business. She’s one of the main reasons I’m here. That’s a professional interest. However, I also happen to like her very much. I didn’t sleep with her, don’t intend to sleep with her.”
“Fine.” Because she’d started feeling like a fool even before he’d released her, she turned to her locker. “It’s your business, like you said.”
“You’re jealous.” He paused a moment, as if to gather his wits. Or his temper. “After I get over being seriously pissed off, I might find that flattering.”
She whirled back. “I’m not jealous.”
“Replay that little scene,” he suggested, jerking a thumb toward the gym. “See what you come up with. Now, I’m going to go soak my head. I suggest you do the same.”
He strode out, sending the swinging door slapping.
Eight
There was onething Ripley hated more than feeling guilty. It was feeling ashamed. It took her a while to get there, as her temper wasn’t of the flash-and-fade variety.
She wallowed in anger, enjoyed the way it bubbled and churned inside her and kept clear, rational thinking at bay.
She rode on that blissful annoyance most of the day, and it felt good. It felt just. The energy it gave her had her whipping through a backlog of paperwork at the station house and taking Zack’s turn at cleaning the premises. She did her patrol on foot, then, still raring to go, volunteered to take her brother’s cruise shift.
She drove all over the island, looking for trouble. Hoping for it.
When trouble didn’t cooperate, she spent an hour at home, beating the hell out of her punching bag.
Then common sense began to trickle through. She hated when that happened. That trickle opened a crack, and through the crack she was able to view her own behavior with distressing clarity.
She’d been stupid and that was hard to swallow. She’d been wrong and that was a bigger, nastier gulp. Feeling like an idiot made her depressed, so she skulked down to the kitchen when no one was around and ate three of Nell’s brownies.
She could hardly believe she’d worked herself up into that sort of astate over a man in the first place. Not that it had been jealousy, she thought, contemplating a fourth brownie. He was completely wrong about that. But she had overreacted, big time.
And she, she decided as the feeling of stupidity began to slide toward the first sticky edge of guilt, had treated him shabbily.
She’d teased him. She had no respect for women who used sex as a weapon, or a bribe. Or a reward, for that matter. But she’d used it as bait and punishment.
That shamed her.
Replaying her actions in the gym drove her to brownie number four.
Even if he had been interested in Mia, which she was now convinced he hadn’t been, he was a free agent. A couple of lip locks with her didn’t make them exclusive, or oblige him to fidelity.
Though she firmly believed that if you were nibbling on one cookie, you finished it off before you picked up another.
But that was neither here nor there.
The best thing to do, she thought, rubbing her now slightly unsettled stomach, was nothing. Stay out of his way, nip any personal connection in the bud, though it was probably a little late for the bud stage, she admitted.
They would just pretend nothing had ever happened—which, of course, it shouldn’t have.
She crept back up to her bedroom, closed herself in, and decided it would be wise to avoid all human contact for the next eight hours.
Sleep didn’t come easily, but she put that down to overdosing on chocolate and deemed it fair punishment for her crimes.
The dreams, when they came, seemed harsher than she deserved.
The winter beach was deserted. Solitude weighed like chains around her heart. The moon was full, ripely white so that its light washed over the shore and sea. It seemed you could all but count every grain of sand that glittered in that beam.
The sound of the surf drummed in her ears, a constant sound that reminded her she was alone. Would always be alone.
She flung up her hands, called out in pain, in fury. The wind answered, and spun those sparkling grains of sand. Faster. Faster.
Power sliced through her, a blade so cold it burned hot. The storm she called roared and built until it blocked the light of that pure white moon.
“Why do you do this?”
She turned in the torrent and looked at her lost sister. Golden hair shimmered, blue eyes were dark with sorrow.
“For justice.” She needed to believe that. “For you.”
“No.” The one who had been Air didn’t reach out but stood quiet, hands folded at her waist. “For vengeance. For hate. We were never meant to use what we are for blood.”
“He spilled yours first.”
“And should my weakness, my fears, excuse yours?”
“Weak?” Magic dark boiled inside her. “I am stronger now than ever I was. I have no fears.”
“You are alone. The one you loved sacrificed.”
And she could see, like a dream within the dream, the man who had held her heart. She watched him, watched again, as he was struck dow
n, taken from her and their children by the bitter edge of her own actions.
The tears that swam into her eyes burned like acid.
“He should have stayed away.”
“He loved you.”
“I am beyond love now.”
Air turned over her hands, hands that gleamed as white as that blinding moonlight. “There is no life without love, and no hope. I broke the first link between us, and lacked the courage to forge it back again. Now you break the second. Find your compassion, make your amends. The chain grows weak.”
“I would change nothing.”
“Our sister will be put to the test.” Urgently now, Air stepped closer. “Without us, she may fail. Then, our circle is broken once and forever. Our children’s children will pay. I have seen it.”
“You ask me to give up what I have tasted. What I can now call with athought ?” She flung out a hand and the great sea rose to rage against the shimmering wall of sand—a thousand voices, screaming. “I will not. Before I am done with this, every man, every woman, every child who cursed us, who hunted us like vermin, will writhe in agony.”
“Then you damn us,” Air said quietly. “And all who come after us. Look. And see what may be.”
The wall of sand dissolved. The furious sea reared back, froze for one throbbing moment. The moon so white, so pure, split and dripped cold blood. Across the black sky, lightning slashed and whipped, stabbed down toward the earth to smoke and to burn.
Flames erupted, fed by the wild and greedy wind, so that the dark was blinded with light.
The night became one long, terrified scream as the island was swallowed by the sea.
However upsetting thedream, Ripley could convince herself it was a result of guilt and chocolate. In the light of day she could shrug off the anxiety it had caused and expend her energy shoveling the latest snowfall.
By the time Zack joined her, she’d finished the steps and half the walk. “I’ll do the rest. Go in and get some coffee, some breakfast.”
“Couldn’t eat. I gorged on brownies last night, so I can use the exercise.”
“Hey.” He caught her by the chin, lifting her face for a long study. “You look tired.”
“Didn’t sleep very well.”
“What’s gnawing at you?”
“Nothing. I ate too many sweets, didn’t sleep well, and now I’m paying for it.”
“Baby, you’re talking to somebody who knows you. When you’ve got a problem you march through work—physical and mental drudgery—until you come out the other side. Spill it.”
“There’s nothing to spill.” She shuffled her feet, then finally just sighed. Her brother could simply stand and wait through an entire geological era for an answer. “Okay, I’m not ready to spill it. I’m working it out.”
“All right. If all this shoveling’s helping you with that, I’ll just leave you to it.”
He started back in. She didn’t just look tired, he thought. She looked unhappy. At least he could take her mind off that. He scooped up a handful of snow, smoothed it into a ball. What were big brothers for? And let it fly.
It hit the back of her head with a solidwhomp. He wasn’t leadoff pitcher for the island’s softball team without reason.
Ripley turned slowly, studied his cheerful grin. “So . . . want to play, do you?”
She grabbed up snow as she sidestepped. The instant he bent down for ammo, she fired straight between his eyes. She played third, and it was a brave or foolish runner who tried to steal home against her arm.
They pummeled each other, winging snowballs across the half-shoveled walk, slinging insults and taunts after them.
By the time Nell came to the door, the once pristine blanket over the lawn was bisected with messy paths, dented with furrows where bodies had temporarily fallen.
Lucy, with high, delighted barks, shot through the door like a bullet and dived into the action.
Amused, Nell hugged her arms against the chill and stepped out on the porch. “You children better come in and get cleaned up,” she called out. “Or you’ll be late for school.”
It was instinct more than plan that had brother and sister doing instant and identical pivots. The two snowballs hit Nell dead center. The resulting squeal had Ripley laughing so hard she had to drop to her knees, where Lucy leaped on her.
“Oops.” Zack swallowed the grin as he caught the dangerous glint in his wife’s eyes. “Sorry, honey. It was, you know, a reflex.”
“I’ll show you a reflex. It’s comforting to know the entire island police force will shoot the unarmed.” She sniffed, shot her chin into the air. “I want that walk cleared off, and you can clean off my car while you’re at it, if you can spare a moment from your hilarity.”
She sailed back inside, slammed the door.
“Ouch,” Ripley said, then dissolved into laughter again. “Looks like you may be bunking on the sofa tonight, hotshot.”
“She doesn’t hold a grudge.” But he winced, hunched his shoulders. “I’ll go take care of her car.”
“Got you whipped, doesn’t she?”
He merely burned her with a look. “I’ll kill you later.”
Still chuckling, Ripley hauled herself to her feet as her brother and Lucy plowed through the snow toward the back of the house. Nothing, she thought, like a good snow fight to put everything back on an even keel. As soon as she finished the walk, she would go inside and make nice to Nell.
Still, she’d counted on Nell’s having a little more sense of humor. What was a little snow between friends? Brushing herself off, Ripley picked up the shovel, then heard the pained howl, the wild barks.
Gripping the shovel like a bat, she raced around the side of the house. As she cleared the corner, she was greeted by a face full of snow. The shocked gasp caused her to swallow some of it, choke. As she spit it out, rubbed it off her face, she saw her brother, covered to his shoulders with snow.
And Nell, standing with a smug smile, and two empty buckets. She banged them together smartly to shake out any remaining snow. “That,” she said with a nod, “was reflex.”
“Boy.” Ripley tried to dig under her collar where snow was dribbling, cold and wet. “She’s good.”
She was ableto maintain the good, even mood through most of the day. She might’ve stayed there if Dennis Ripley hadn’t come shuffling into the station house.
“It’s my favorite delinquent.” As he rarely failed to entertain her, Ripley propped her feet on the desk and prepared to enjoy the show. “What’s up with you?”
“I’m supposed to apologize for causing trouble, and to thank you for taking me back to school, and blah blah.”
“Gosh, Den.” Ripley dabbed at an imaginary tear. “I’m touched.”
The corner of his mouth turned up. “Mom said I had to. I got two days ISS, I’m grounded for three weeks, and I have to write essays on responsibility and honesty.”
“Essays? That’s the worst, huh?”
“Yeah.” He plopped down in the chair across from her, sighed weightily. “I guess it was pretty stupid.”
“Guess it was.”
“No point in hooking school in the winter,” he added.
“No comment. How about the history test?”
“I passed.”
“No kidding? You are a jackass, Den.”
“Well, it wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. And Mom didn’t wear me out like I figured she would. Dad either. I just got the lecture.”
“Oh.” Ripley obliged him with a shudder and made him grin. “Not the lecture!”
“I can use most of it in the essays. I guess I learned my lesson, though.”
“Do tell.”
“Well, besides planning better so you don’t freeze your ears off in the woods when you ditch school, it’s less trouble to just do what you’re supposed to—mostly—in the first place.”
“Mostly,” she agreed. And because she loved him, she rose to make him a cup of instant hot chocolate.
&n
bsp; “And because you made me go in and say what I did, right out, I didn’t have to sweat it out, you know? Dad said how when you mess up, you have to face up to it, make it right. Then people respect you, and even more, you can, you know, respect yourself.”
She felt a twinge in her gut as she dumped chocolate powder in a mug. “Man,” she muttered.
“Everybody makes mistakes, but cowards hide from them. That’s a good one, doncha think, Aunt Rip? I can use that in the essay.”
“Yeah.” She cursed under her breath. “That’s a good one.”
If a twelve-year-old boycould face the music, Ripley told herself, then a thirty-year-old woman had to be able to do the same.
Maybe she’d rather be grounded, maybe she’d rather write the dreaded essay than knock on Mac’s door. But there was no option. Not with guilt, shame, and the example of a twelve-year-old crowding her.
She thought Mac might just slam the door in her face, and she couldn’t find it in herself to blame him if he did. Of course,if he did, then she could just write a polite note of apology. Which was almost like an essay when you thought about it.
Face-to-face had to be the first move, though. So she stood in front of his cottage door as the light dimmed with dusk, and prepared to eat crow.
He opened the door. He was wearing his glasses, and a sweatshirt that carried an emblem from Whatsamatta U and a picture of Bullwinkle. Under any other circumstances, it would have been amusing.
“Deputy Todd,” he said. Very coolly.
“Can I come in for a minute?” She swallowed the first stringy morsel of crow. “Please.”
He stepped back, gestured.
She could see he’d been working. A couple of the monitors were booted up. One of them had zigzagging lines that put her in mind of hospital equipment.
He had a fire going, and she could smell stale coffee.
“I’m interrupting,” she began.
“That’s all right. Let me take your coat.”
“No.” Defensively, she pulled it tighter. “This won’t take long, then I’ll get out of your hair. I want to apologize for the other day. I was wrong. Totally wrong, and completely out of line. There’s no excuse for what I did, what I said, or how I behaved.”
“Well, that about covers it.” He’d wanted to stay angry with her. He’d been very comfortable in that groove. “Accepted.”
She jammed her hands in her pockets. She didn’t like it when things were too
