Going Under (Wildfire Lake Book 2)

by Skye Jordan

  Maybe that was where I went wrong—falling asleep with him. Waking up with him. The only time I’ve ever slept with a hookup was when I was so drunk, I passed out. Even then, I managed to get out of their rooms before they woke.

  I’m too fucking old to be sneaking out of men’s rooms.

  The thought hits me out of nowhere, and it’s loud enough to distract me from my work. I don’t consider myself old, but I’m not twenty-three anymore either. I imagine myself sailing into some lively port where I don’t know anyone and heading to the bar for companionship. Sleeping with a stranger, just to bail and retreat back to my boat where I’m alone.

  I’ve always craved my solitude. Now, the idea creates unease. I discover I don’t feel that pressing need to find space anymore. But I also discover the idea of being alone doesn’t diminish the burning desire to sail and travel and experience all I can experience in the short life I’ve been given. I won’t physically be able to do this the rest of my life. I need to do it now, while I’m young and fit with a fire in my belly.

  “Violet?”

  The almost whisper freezes my hands, and I become intensely aware of my surroundings. Did I just hear that? Or was that some bizarre figment of my imagination?

  I glance at my phone and find it’s already after four o’clock. All the girls are out of school by now.

  “Joe,” I yell to one of the construction workers. “Turn off the music for a minute.”

  He gets off his ladder, reaches for his phone, which is connected to mobile speakers, and taps the screen. I hold up my index finger, silently telling him it’ll just be a second.

  When I hear nothing but the dribble of rain off the roof, I look at Joe. “Did you hear—?”

  “Violet?”

  Jazz’s voice sends a lightning bolt of terror straight down my spine. I’m on my feet and out the door before I can make sense out of this. All I can think about is a five-year-old on the docks without supervision.

  “Jazz?” I yell even as I jog toward the dock. It’s stopped raining, and I find Jazz wandering the dock, soaking wet. The water here is well over her head and cold enough to cause instant hypothermia in a girl her size.

  “Jesus fucking Christ.” I run onto the dock, and Jazz turns in a circle, finally facing me. I don’t want to scare her, but she’s just scared the bejesus out of me, and I’m amped. I crouch in front of her and take her hands. They’re freezing. “Jazz, honey, what are you doing out here?”

  Her tiny body is shivering, teeth chattering. I pull off my hoodie, warm from my body and pull it over her head, dragging her arms through.

  “Violet was playing hide-and-seek with me, and I can’t find her. I looked everywhere. I thought she might have come here.”

  Another strike of panic hits. I push to my feet and drag my phone from my pocket while scanning the lake for any disturbance. I dial Violet’s number, and I swear my heart climbs toward my throat a little more with every ring. Tears of terror sting my eyes by the time I hear Violet’s sweet voice on the other end of the line. “Hi, Kat. I miss you.”

  I’m so relieved, my muscles turn to butter, and I drop the phone. I crouch to pick it up, but I’m shaking, and I end up covering my face with both hands. Hot tears flood my eyes. A hammer pounds in my chest, and I can’t push to my feet.

  Holy. Fuck.

  Holy. Fucking. Christ.

  I’ve never been so scared. Not even when I thought I was going to drown in that cyclone.

  I take several deep breaths before picking up the phone where Violet is saying, “Kat? Are you there?”

  “Yeah.” I force myself to pull it together. “Who’s home with you right now?”

  “Jazz, Poppy, and Isabel, why?”

  Isabel.

  Goddammit.

  “Okay, thanks, honey. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  By the time I disconnect, Jazz is standing beside me, patting my back in an adorable miniature impression of a parent. “It’s okay, Kat. Don’t be sad.”

  I half laugh, half sob and wrap her in my arms. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I send the prayer out to whoever or whatever is out there—the universe, angels, God. I don’t care. I’m just so grateful, I can barely breathe.

  When I pull my shit together, I pick Jazz up and start toward her house. “How did you leave your house, honey? The front door?”

  “No. I was looking for Violet in the backyard.”

  I think of the fencing surrounding the yard. Jazz isn’t tall enough to reach the gate latch. “How did you get out of the backyard?”

  “There’s a loose board by the gate.”

  Jesus. This is the perfect fucking storm. A persistent five-year-old, a deep, cold lake, and a neglectful babysitter.

  She chatters about school, her teacher, her friends. I soak in every word, even more shaken in the aftermath now that my mind has time to conjure everything that could have gone wrong and led to a tragedy here today.

  I enter through the front door, which isn’t locked, and by the time I reach the living room where Isabel is sprawled on the sofa, her face in her phone, I’m livid.

  I put Jazz down just as Poppy and Violet come down the stairs. Their eyes are wide, darting between me and Jazz.

  “What’s going on?” Violet asks.

  By now, Isabel has righted herself and is actually scowling at me. “Hey, you can’t just come in here.”

  “Girls, I need to talk to Isabel privately. Wait in your rooms, please. I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

  I don’t wait for the girls to obey before I gesture the self-absorbed teenager into the guest room where I shared an unforgettable night with Ben. As she walks through the doorway, I snatch her phone from her hand and close the door behind us.

  “Hey, that’s mine.” She lunges for her phone. She’s at least my weight, and she’s got a couple of inches on me too, but if this kid thinks she’s going to push me around, she’s got a steep learning curve coming.

  “You’re not getting this back until we talk. Try to take it again, and I’ll call the cops and tell them you attacked me. Feel like spending the night in juvie, Isabel?”

  She backs down, but she’s pissed. “What happened? And what business is it of yours?”

  “You didn’t do your job, that’s what happened. And it’s my business when a kid wanders into danger on my property.”

  It might not technically be my property, but I certainly have ownership in it.

  She crosses her arms and hikes her chin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “While your face was in your phone, Violet and Jazz were playing hide-and-seek, and Violet hid so well that Jazz wandered into the backyard looking for her, then down to the docks, all by herself.”

  This is the first time I realize Jazz walked along a public street alone, and a fresh wave of panic burns straight through me. “That is exactly how children get abducted, Isabel. This is how children die.”

  I’m having absolutely no mercy on this girl. She’s old enough to know better. Old enough to take responsibility for her mistakes. Old enough to learn a hard lesson.

  “That’s not my fault,” Isabel says.

  I take a step toward her, get in her face, and raise my voice. “That’s entirely your fault. You are being paid to keep those girls safe, not to fuck around with your friends over Snapchat.”

  The curse, my tone, or my aggressive move jolts her a little. “I wasn’t—”

  “Don’t you dare lie to me. I’m not an idiot. I know exactly what you were doing.”

  The surliness starts to slide out of her expression. She swallows and takes a half step back. I take a full step forward. I want this to be a severe emotional event for this kid. I want her to be so traumatized that she never allows harm to come to any other kid that is ever entrusted to her, including her own.

  “How do you think your mom would feel if you didn’t come home tonight?”

  She takes another step back, a big one. “I don’t know what you mean.�
��

  “I’m talking about what could have happened to Jazz today if I hadn’t found her before some sicko did. Children disappear every day in this country. It doesn’t just happen in the movies. It happens when a careless babysitter is so self-absorbed, she allows a little girl to wander right into danger on her own. How would you have felt if I’d found Jazz floating facedown in that lake? How would it feel living every day for the rest of your life knowing it was your fault?”

  Tears fill Isabel’s dark eyes. “I’m sorry,” she yells, sniffling but still defiant. “I didn’t know she left the house.”

  “It’s your fucking job to know,” I yell louder, getting right in her face, and Isabel cringes. “How do you feel right now? Scared? Afraid I could hurt you?” I have her back against the door now, and she’s still got defiance lighting her eyes. “Times how you feel right now by a thousand, and you’ll know how scared Jazz would have been if someone took her. How terrified she would have been if she fell into the water and couldn’t get out.”

  “Stop,” Isabel finally yells, hands over her face. “Stop. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  I wait for the tears and the sobs. When they come, I finally feel like the kid heard me. Finally feel like she’s taking this seriously. But I never want her around these girls again.

  “Get out,” I tell her. “Get out, and don’t you dare ever come here again.”

  She drops her hands and looks at me with round wet eyes. “What? You’re not their mother. You can’t tell me—”

  “One of those kids was in danger on my fucking property. That makes this my fucking business. The only person who doesn’t have a say in this whole fucking thing is you. You forfeited that by neglecting the children you were supposed to be caring for. Now get the fuck out.”

  “Give me my phone.”

  “Send your parents to the marina. I’ll give it to them personally, along with an accurate accounting of what happened here today.”

  Isabel grabs her keys and backpack, and she’s out of the house in twenty seconds flat.

  Now I’ve got to go have a much softer, quieter, sweeter talk with the girls. I brace my hands on the doorjamb, exhale, and lower my head. I’m still so angry, so traumatized, I’m shaking.

  I start toward the stairs and look up to find all three girls huddled on one step. Their eyes are wide, their posture frightened. Ah, fuck. I should have foreseen this.

  “Hey, girls,” I say in as normal a voice as I can find. “I’m sorry you had to hear all—”

  Violet lunges off the stairs and runs straight toward me. The other two are right behind her. Before I know what’s happening, all three are clinging to me, their faces pressed against my body.

  Tears sting my eyes as I drop into a crouch and pull them all into a hug.

  “I’m sorry,” Violet says in a shaky voice. “I just thought Jazz gave up looking, and I started playing Apples to Apples with Poppy.”

  “I’m sorry I left the house,” Jazz says.

  “I’m sorry you’re mad,” Poppy says.

  That makes me huff a laugh. “I’m not mad at any of you.”

  I drop to a seat on the floor, and they crowd around me. “I want to explain this. Taking care of children is one of the most important jobs in the world. And when someone doesn’t do a good job of it, bad things can happen. I don’t want anything bad happening to any of you. Ever. Isabel is just too immature to be doing such an important job, and I’ll never stand by and do nothing if I think you’re going to be hurt in any way. It’s important to stand up for what’s right when you see something bad happening. I don’t always think raising your voice is the right way to handle things, but sometimes it has to happen to get the message through.”

  Violet’s gaze is pinned to mine. “So, you’re not mad?”

  “Not with any of you.”

  “And not with Daddy?” she asks.

  “No, honey, not your daddy either.” I give them another squeeze. “Are we good?”

  “Yeah,” they say in a chorus.

  “Who’s got homework?”

  “Me,” they say together again.

  “You too, Jazz?” I ask.

  “Handwriting.”

  “Okay. Jazz, you get changed into dry clothes, and all of you bring your things to the kitchen table. Once you’re started, I’m going to fix that fence.”

  14

  Ben

  I drive by the entrance to the marina on my way home and look for Kat's truck. It’s parked where it usually is, right up next to her shop. I ache to see her, kiss her, touch her. That’s how I know I have to stay away, because I want her too badly, and she won’t be sticking around.

  And after hearing all about her escapades as a kid and her dreams for the future, I sure as shit don’t want to be the guy who holds her back. I don’t really want to get my heart broken again either.

  Yeah, staying away is still the right thing to do. For both of us.

  My heart is sinking into my stomach as I reach overhead and tap the garage door opener on the visor. Movement from the left side of the house catches my eye, and I stop in the driveway, trying to figure out if I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing.

  Yep, that’s Kat manhandling my fence.

  She’s wearing one of her old pairs of jeans, the ones she wears when she’s working, and just a tank top even though it’s about fifty degrees outside. Her hair is up in a messy knot on the top of her head. She’s wearing gloves, and she’s got what looks like my toolbox at her feet.

  “What the hell happened now?” Coming home every day feels like an episode in the misadventures of the Lathams’. I’m never sure what I’ll find. And I’m not sure if I should be excited or frustrated to see Kat, because her muscles are rolling beneath her skin and her neck is exposed and…

  “Stop thinking about it, idiot.”

  Frustrated. Definitely.

  I climb from the car and make my way across the lawn. Her face is flushed and she’s breathing hard, her chest rolling with the motion. And when she meets my gaze, I realize she’s pissed. Openly, obviously pissed. And Kat pissed is something to take seriously.

  “I’m sure there’s a story behind this,” I say, “but by the look on your face, I’m not sure I want to know what it is.”

  “Look, you’re going to be angry,” she says. “I already know that, and it’s fine, whatever. But this is all new to me, and I probably should have handled it differently, but I went with my gut, which I’ve discovered turns all full-on mama-bear mode when it involves these girls—”

  “Whoa, whoa.” I put both my hands out. “Slow down, baby.”

  I didn’t mean to call her that, I’m not even sure where it came from. Scratch that, I know exactly where it came from. I can still remember my hands tangled in her hair while she was taking me throat-deep. “Fuck, baby, that’s so good.”

  But she either doesn’t notice the slip or it doesn’t bother her, because she doesn’t react to it. I find myself thinking—again—what an idiot I am, because of course she wouldn’t care. Sex is sex to her. She probably hasn’t even thought twice about me in the last six days, ten hours, and forty minutes since she left my bed.

  She picks up a hammer. “Let me just finish this.”

  Watching her wield her muscles to do…whatever she’s doing with the fence…is a stunning sight. Who am I to argue?

  Something moves in the window behind Kat, and I find all three girls looking out. They smile and wave. When Kat looks up, their eyes go big and they duck away like they’re hiding from her.

  I expected her to laugh, but she doesn’t. “Damn. I hope that fades with time.”

  “Hope what fades?”

  She moves in front of the gate and opens and closes it several times, making sure the latch catches. She pulls the too-big gloves off and crouches to put the tools back in my box.

  “Do you want to come in?” I ask, unsure what’s going on.

  “No. I think this conversation would
be better to have out here. I’ve learned exactly how sneaky those three can be.”

  “Shit,” I say, half laughing, “What did they do?” I realize I didn’t see Isabel’s car and look around for it now. “Where is Isabel?”

  “Uh, yeah, about that.” She’s contrite, something I could never have imagined on my own. “Just, will you hear me out before you blow up?”

  “I rarely blow up. I can’t remember the last time I did.”

  “This one might stick in your memory. I sort of, kind of, I mean, I overstepped. But, man, it really felt like the right thing to do in the moment. And I was just beside myself with anger and fear and—”

  I step toward her and take her biceps. “Kat.” When she stops and focuses, I say, “It’s okay. Just tell me.”

  She explains how she was working in the market and came out to find Jazz on the dock, alone. From that moment on, my muscles coil tighter with every sentence that comes out of her mouth.

  “I mean”—she’s not looking me in the eye, and her hands are busy gesturing—“when I heard her voice, I recognized it right away, you know? And I swear I felt a bug crawl up my spine.”

  This isn’t the confident KT I know. This is a vulnerable side she clearly doesn’t know what to do with.

  “Then I went out, and she’s standing there all alone, small and bewildered and innocent, and I instantly start running disaster scenarios in my head before I even reach her. My mind is spinning a mile a minute because, sure, she may be a great swimmer, but add in hypothermia, and it doesn’t matter how good a swimmer you are.

  “Then she told me how she ended up there, and I swear my heart detonated. I was so freaked out about her being so near that cold water unsupervised that I didn’t even think about the whole other layer of danger she was in by walking that far by herself.

  “When I get here, Isabel’s all ‘It’s not my fault’ and ‘You’re not their mother,’ and I went off. I mean, I didn’t lose it, exactly. Everything I said and did was deliberate, and I can’t honestly say I’m sorry, which might make me a bad person, but I don’t even care if it does. I’m going to have nightmares about Jazz in that lake for months.”