Be Still My Heart: A Romantic Suspense

by Emily McIntire

  A small part of me wonders what things would be like here without Lincoln Porter. If maybe I would have pressed for warrants earlier, wouldn’t have put up with as much incompetence from the local police if he hadn’t snuck his way into my brain and weaved his way into every thought.

  What good detective wouldn’t demand to question a person of interest? Especially when all anyone can focus on when it comes to Paul Jensen is some screwed up myth about the lighthouse and the ghosts who haunt it.

  Ridiculous.

  My eyes scan the bullpen, my fingers tapping the counter of the front desk, waiting for Klepsky or Stoll to bring out the warrant so I can head to where I need to go.

  No more distractions.

  “Maybe I should go with him on the boat, instead.” Alex’s voice cuts through my thoughts, his brows drawn down in thought, his hand rubbing across his jaw.

  The smart thing to do would be to agree with him. After all, the last time I was alone with Lincoln, things didn’t exactly stay professional. But the suggestion pulls my insides tight, disappointment settling into my veins at the thought of not being able to get out on the water myself.

  And maybe a little bit of me wants to get some closure with Lincoln; make sure he knows what happened last night will never happen again.

  I sigh, placing my hand on Alex’s forearm. “That’s okay. I’ll go this time, and you can take next. Someone needs to head to the church and check things out anyway.”

  He leans in. “It doesn’t seem like you two get along.”

  I shrug, visions of how well we did get along flashing through my memory. “We don’t have to. I’ll be fine.”

  Alex’s jaw tics. “I don’t like it.”

  “It was your idea,” I hiss back, annoyance winding its way around my middle.

  “Well, that was before he said you two weren’t ‘working’ on his boat last night. I mean, what the fuck, carina?”

  Heat floods my cheeks, my gaze breaking away from his and landing on the uniformed blonde woman standing behind the desk, her eyes volleying between the two of us.

  “I couldn’t sleep last night,” I mutter. “We were just talking.” The lie tastes bitter as it rolls off my tongue, guilt worming its way through my chest.

  “Can you find Klepsky or Stoll?” I ask the blonde. “Tell them we’re still waiting for the lighthouse warrant, please?” I force a smile on my face, but she doesn’t reciprocate, and a heavy feeling slams into me from the way her eyes narrow into slits.

  What is with everyone in this town?

  “Warrant for where?”

  My heart skips as I spin around, coming face-to-face with Lincoln.

  “You’re still here?” Alex sighs as he takes him in.

  Lincoln gives a tight smile. “Not for you.” He turns to the blonde, and the way her face lights up makes my insides smart with something sour.

  “When Gabe gets here, can you tell him to call his wife, please, so she leaves me the fuck alone?” Lincoln asks.

  She smiles wide. “You got it, Linc.”

  Linc.

  A nickname.

  Nausea churns in my gut, and I’m stepping forward before my brain can connect with my feet. “Can you please do what I asked? We’re on a tight schedule.”

  Lincoln twists toward me and huffs out a laugh. “You’re not going to the lighthouse.”

  I tilt my head. “Umm… actually, I am.”

  “No.”

  Fire floods through me, the audacity of this man making blood rush into my cheeks. “I don’t remember asking your permission.”

  “The last thing I’m going to let you do is wave your badge around and storm into his life. He gets enough harassment around here,” Lincoln snaps.

  I snort, my hands going to my hips. “All the more reason. Maybe he’s killing them to make it stop.”

  The room goes quiet, and I swallow around the knot in my throat, realizing my words came out louder than intended. That I shouted them for everyone to hear.

  “Carina—”

  I twist toward Alex, my hand flinging out. “Don’t ‘carina’ me, Alex. I’m serious. What is with everyone in this town trying to keep us from solving this case? This is beyond ridiculous.”

  From the corner of my eye, I see Stoll and Klepsky saunter out of the back hallway, their footsteps hesitating as they take in the silent room.

  “I’m good at my job.” I point my finger at them. “I try to be great. But then here you are. Losing evidence, not even collecting it in some cases, and sitting on warrants for weeks while innocent women are getting murdered.”

  Alex’s hands come up to my shoulders, his touch itching like ants on my skin. I shrug him off, my chest heaving. I glance around to all the wide-eyed gazes in the room; every single person staring at me as if I’m the problem—until I meet Lincoln’s stare.

  And the asshole is smiling.

  My eyes narrow. “What?”

  He shrugs, his eyebrow quirking. “You done?”

  “I don’t know,” I huff. “Are you gonna keep trying to micromanage a case you aren’t even involved in?”

  He steps in close, his smirk widening. “Oh, killer, we both know I’m plenty involved.”

  His words sear through my core and settle between my thighs.

  “That’s not what I meant,” I hiss.

  He moves even closer, his eyes flaring.

  My stomach somersaults.

  “So what did you mean?” he asks.

  His eyes suck me in until I’m riding the waves of his stare, my heart screaming for something it can’t quite reach.

  A hand on my back makes me jump. “Carina.”

  Breaking my gaze away from Lincoln, I step back and lock my eyes on Alex instead.

  “You okay?” he questions.

  I wipe the strands of hair from my face, forcing down the emotion that’s stampeding through my insides.

  This town makes me feel crazy.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “Yeah... I’m fine.”

  “Listen,” Lincoln says, drawing my attention back. “I’ll take you to Mr. Jensen’s myself when we get back from being on the water.”

  My heart skips at his words. “You will?”

  He stares at me, the corner of his mouth lifting as if he’s in on a joke no one else knows. “If I’m there, he’s less liable to shoot you for trespassing.”

  I shake my head. “No, I’m going now. We’ve already waited long enough.”

  “I can go with you,” Alex pipes in.

  Lincoln’s gaze narrows as it slides past me to land on him. “Paul Jensen will not speak to you guys without me, and it’s a fucking toss up if he will even when I’m there. You—” he points at Alex. “Will only make the situation worse.”

  He steps into me, his hand coming up to rest under my chin, tilting my head until our eyes meet. The ache of his touch flares across my skin, itching like fresh tattoos. My fists clench, my palms stinging from where my fingernails press into them.

  “Trust me, killer,” he says. “Please.”

  I suck in a breath, my mouth parting. His eyes drop to my lips.

  My hand reaches up, fingers wrapping around his wrist as I nod.

  He might be a jerk, but something tugs on my psyche, making me feel as if trusting him is my best choice. So, I’ll go out on the water and see what we find, and then I’ll trust Lincoln to take me to the lightkeeper.

  And I won’t leave until I get some answers.

  Chapter 21

  My sister snickers for the fourth time since she stepped foot on my dock. The sound scrapes like sandpaper against my ears, and I drop the cage I’m cleaning to turn and glare at her.

  A grin breaks across her face as she rubs her son’s back. “What’s that look for?”

  “What are you laughing at?” I huff.

  Daisy grins. “Your misfortune.”

  Rolling my eyes, I get back to work clearing the Captain Morgan’s platform, ensuring there’s plenty of space for two people to stay
as far away from each other as possible.

  I might be stuck with Detective Sloane and the dirty thoughts I have about her on this trawl, but I’ll be damned if I make things harder on myself.

  Monet shakes out his yellow fur and hops up on a saltwater tank, staring out over the boat’s lip. I move to stack the clean trap on top of the others, securing them to the deck.

  “If by misfortune, you mean having to deal with your presence, then I’ll allow it.”

  Sighing, I snap the end of one bungee cord in place, shaking the cages at the bottom of the pile, and then haul myself off the boat.

  Wiping my hands clean, I take stock of the equipment left on the dock, noting that aside from the box of herring waiting to be used as bait, I’ve already loaded everything.

  My eyes skip past my sister, lasering in on my cabin, where I see Sloane and Alex locked in a heated discussion. He has one hand on the handle of her duffel bag, and I watch with my tongue between my teeth as he yanks her into him, wrapping his arm around her in a tight hug.

  The gesture should be innocuous enough between two friends, but I don’t miss the way his eyes linger on Sloane’s form when she walks past him, or how he always seems to want to step in and be her knight in shining armor.

  Or the way carina rolls off his tongue, like he expects it to soothe her, somehow. Maybe in the past, she’s let it.

  Not that it fucking matters. I definitely don’t want to be her anything, so if Alex is willing, I won’t stand in his way.

  Except, when they finally come down the dock, I do stand in his way. Literally.

  He moves to step onto the vessel, arms already outstretched as if to hoist Sloane over it himself, and I shift to the side, blocking his entry.

  Stumbling, he reaches out and grips the white trim of the boat before he slips and falls. “Is there a problem, Lincoln?”

  “Your name on that warrant, Detective?”

  His dark eyebrows draw in. “Excuse me?”

  “You’re not included in that warrant, so you’re not one of the people I’m letting on my boat today.”

  “Oh, hell.” Shoving back a step, he nods at Sloane. “You want to deal with this?”

  She pauses, one leg hiked over the rail. Her eyes flash to mine, and then to her partner. “I don’t know, Alex. Maybe it’s not safe for all of us to be on at once?”

  Daisy laughs, stuffing baby Charlie into my arms and walking over to where Sloane’s stuck in limbo. I let out an irritated sigh, immediately crooking my arms to accommodate his sleeping form, while my sister reaches up and helps Sloane over.

  “It’s perfectly safe,” Daisy says, gripping the metal with both hands. “Lincoln’s just territorial.”

  “Of more than just his boat, I’d say,” Alex mutters, his eyes narrowing into slits.

  Instead of coming to my defense, Daisy just nods. “Don’t blame him, though. Our dad was the same way. Worse, even. One time, when he was little, Lincoln stowed away with Gabe before a three-day trawl and hid out in the bottom cabin. Pops didn’t find them until that night, and boy was he mad when he did—went on a whole rant about respect and not touching another man’s belongings. I swear, they never went near his boat after that.”

  My throat burns at the memory, emotion clogging the airway.

  I wasn’t with Gabe that night.

  Although, I suppose it’s an easier story to remember that way.

  “I’m Daisy, by the way. We haven’t officially met.” She holds her hand out as Sloane catches her footing, pasting a wide smile on her face. “I mean, I’m assuming you did your research—at least, my husband seems to think you have, since he insisted on me not coming down and bothering you with introductions.”

  “Good looking out,” I grumble, moving to shove Charlie back into her arms as Sloane drops her palm. My sister takes him, still smiling, and steps back from the edge of the dock.

  Daisy hip checks me. “Shut up. Just because you’d rather skip meeting people at all doesn’t mean that’s how everyone else is.”

  “God, what a world that would be.”

  Bending down, I haul the crate of herring into my arms, lifting with my knees to load it onto the boat deck. Ignoring Alex’s repeated protests about not being allowed aboard, I push up onto the vessel and untie it, pushing off with one leg.

  “Be careful,” Alex calls, although I’m positive the words are only meant for the detective at my side.

  Monet swirls around Sloane’s feet, his tail wagging furiously, chin tipped up as he waits for her to acknowledge him.

  But I feel her eyes on me; when I glance over, she’s staring holes through my skull, studying me with a carefully neutral expression.

  It makes my gut sour.

  Once we’ve drifted past the no-wake zone, I crank the engine and head off in the direction of my most recent drops. They’re just beyond the coastline, overlooked by the rocky shore, and I kill the engine, release the birds as we idle between a set of buoys, and begin my work in silence.

  Or, at least, I try to.

  Sloane sits on one of the built-in benches, stroking between Monet’s brown eyes. “How old is your nephew?”

  Pushing the button on the hydraulic pump, watching to make sure it pulls my old pots up without issue, I don’t say anything.

  She tries again. “Daisy seems nice. How long has she been married to your best friend?”

  Too long, I think, recalling my initial shock years ago when they’d approached me to say they were seeing each other. How happy my parents had been, because Gabe was like a bonus son to them already.

  To me, it just felt like another loss.

  The trap reaches the side of the boat, and I unlatch it from the line, pulling it up. Turning, I move to set the cage on the platform, and Sloane lets out an exasperated sigh as she pushes to her feet.

  “Are you just gonna ignore me the whole trip?”

  Yanking open the cage door, I pause, squinting at her. “This isn’t a trip, Detective. It’s a job, and I do my best work in silence.”

  “I wouldn’t say your best work,” she argues, heat flashing in her eyes. It shoots straight down to my groin, making my cock jerk at the sultry undertone of her words.

  Clearing her throat, she gestures to the pliers in my hand. “Anyway, I just thought a little conversation might help pass the time.”

  I quirk an eyebrow. “Bored already?”

  “No!” Her face flushes. “God, Lincoln, I’m just trying to find some kind of common ground with you.”

  “Didn’t seem to be a problem last night.”

  She frowns, crossing her arms over her chest. “And that was a one-time thing. Right?”

  Chewing on the corner of my lip, I let my gaze drop slowly down her body, remembering each smooth curve of her flesh and how it felt warming beneath my touch.

  “Right.” I swallow.

  She stares in silence for a while, watching me measure and filter through the lobsters I can keep, and the ones I can’t. After about ten minutes of her perusal making my skin crawl, I heave a breath and drop my tools, leaning on the platform to glare at her.

  Pulling at the collar of her black sweater, she gives me a funny look. “What?”

  “Shouldn’t you be doing something? Putting those investigative skills to use?”

  Scanning the water, she shrugs. “I haven’t seen anything of interest yet.”

  The wind kicks up at the tail end of her sentence, carrying her words like a whisper over the gentle waves. An eerie feeling skitters along my skin, scattering goose bumps, and I walk over to the security light hanging from the cabin door, pointing it in a circle around us.

  I don’t see anything out of the ordinary; driftwood floating and scratching at the sides of the boat, a seal that didn’t make it home with the others. And the lighthouse off in the distance, dark and decrepit as usual, although every light in the main house burns bright.

  Still, the feeling doesn’t go away, and suddenly my nerve endings are on high ale
rt, the blood rushing between my ears. Tapping my finger on the steering column, I suck in a deep breath, releasing it slowly, trying to expel myself of the negative energy.

  Monet barks at something in the distance, but when I jerk forward, scrambling to shine the light on the danger, there’s nothing. Just an endless sea, stretching past the point of visibility, waiting to consume those who venture it.

  So why does it feel like we’re being watched?

  Spinning around, I make my way back over to where Sloane stands. Her gaze tracks my every movement, and I can’t help wondering if maybe it’s her that’s throwing me off.

  “That story about your dad…” she starts, letting her arms drop to her sides. Monet sniffs at her hand, and she pets his nose. “I’ve never heard you mention him.”

  “He’s dead. Left me a fucking mess of a business to deal with. What else is there to say?”

  Rolling her shoulders back, she tilts her head. “Just seems odd that he’s never come up in conversation.”

  “Why would that be odd?” I snap, my tone laced with frustration. “At what point would I have brought it up, Detective? Any of the number of times you’ve harassed me as a suspect? When you commandeered my home?”

  I take a step toward her, my body aching to be close to hers again, even if only for a second.

  She blinks up at me, eyes wide, but doesn’t budge when I press into her and obliterate her personal space. Almost like she wants it, too.

  One-time deal, my ass.

  “Should I have brought it up last night while I was balls deep in your tight little pussy? Or maybe after, when you fell asleep still dripping my cum?”

  Part of me expects her to back down, although I don’t know why. It’s not like that’s in her nature.

  In fact, she’s the exact opposite; sunshine that fights her way through the clouds, refusing to let them overshadow her. It’s why, when she had her little meltdown at the precinct, I found myself volunteering to go to the lighthouse with her myself.

  It’s this magnetic energy that on anyone else I’d steer clear of. But for some reason, with Sloane it feels… familiar.

  I just can’t figure out why.