The Girl in the Sea

by L. L. Akers

  The Girl in the Sea

  Find Me, Keep Me

  Lisa akers

  Contents

  Introduction

  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

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  52. Epilogue

  Also by Lisa akers

  The Girl in Red

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  About the Author

  Afterword

  Introduction

  Praise for The Let Me Go Series

  "L.L. Akers' debut book is a well-written and emotional book." -Bibliobelles.com

  "Breathtakingly beautiful." -Not Everyone's Mama Book Blog

  "Riveting and gut-wrenching, a captivating read. Full of emotion." -BookwormBrandee.blogspot.ca

  "I was mind blown. The ending of the book was absolutely perfect." -MetInEleven.blogspot.sg/

  "There's no way Let Me Go can be excused as a typical NA book... I absolutely love this type of book." -ReadingIsMyTreasure.Blogspot.com

  "An emotional journey not to be missed." -BooksLiveForever.com

  "Every word of this book begs attention, every sentence squeezing out emotion." -MySeryniti.com

  "A gripping tale... This book packs quite a punch." -BookyThoughtsAndMe.com

  "A rollercoaster of emotions." -AdventuresInReading

  The Girl in the Sea (book 3 in The Let Me Go Trilogy) is a suspenseful and emotional Psychological Suspense drama.

  Click here to read Book One (best read in order).

  The Girl in the Sea: Find Me, Keep Me

  When will someone finally find her and keep her?

  Olivia has found someone. He's everything she secretly dreams of--but he's strictly an online-only friend. While he tries to remain hidden behind his throbbing pierced-heart avatar and swoon-worthy screen-name, she's at last ready to put her rocky past behind her. If she can convince him to step out from behind the curtain, maybe then she could finally find--and keep--her own happily ever after.

  When she invites her anonymous heartthrob to her sister's wedding on the beautiful, beachy, sub-tropical haven of Bald Head Island, he says no; he's not yet ready to reveal his true identity. Instead, along with an unexpected squall that blows in, Grayson--the mysterious brother of the groom--arrives. Olivia is both enamored by and wary of Grayson. He's a real flesh and blood man, after all. So, when her own heart beats out a warning tempo, she takes heed.

  Danger finds her anyway, as the beach is slammed with murderous hurricane winds, and the two are thrust together. She just might be willing to take a risk after all, if she can unmask the mystery of the man by forcing him to confront his own inner storms and secrets.

  “Human misery must somewhere stop. There is no wind that always blows a storm.”

  ~Euripides

  Chapter One

  Emma listened to Dusty sing in the shower. A smirk snuck away from her bad mood and slid over her face.

  She peeked around the open bathroom door. He stood under the steaming water, his face turned up while soap bubbles slid down his achingly sexy back.

  Her heart squeezed as she watched him move his hips from side to side, in tune with the old classic song, “My Girl,” which he was coloring up with his own words as he often did with every song he sang. She didn’t know if he just couldn’t remember the actual words, or if he liked the challenge of making up his own as he went along.

  Amused, she listened as he changed the word ‘girl’ to ‘pearl.’ She’d recently started a new show, in which she was the cartoon voice-over for a snappy, snarky pearl character, under the sea. Dusty had dropped by her studio last week and watched her perform.

  Afterwards, he’d stood outside the glass wall, waiting for her with tears shimmering in his eyes. When Emma had rushed out to ask if everything was okay, worried he’d had bad news to deliver, he was choked up. What he’d finally said had touched her.

  He’d told her it was the perfect part for her, as that was what she was… his pearl.

  She’d laughed it off and told him she wasn’t a pearl. A pearl was traditionally considered the gemstone for innocence. They both knew her innocence had been stolen away long before she met him.

  But he’d insisted she was wrong. With four words, he’d wrapped up her entire life and finally made her feel the past was really the past—and that maybe there was a silver lining to having endured what she had.

  He’d said, “No grit…no pearl.”

  She’d thought about those words for the past week. Not that she could forget them, as Dusty seemed to know every song in the universe that had the word, “pearl” in it, and he was in a very happy mood lately, so he sang all the time.

  But she’d googled pearls, and found the old myth that a pearl is made from a single grain of sand… followed by years and years of irritation to the home it had somehow fallen into, until the grain of sand grows and is polished into a pearl.

  It made sense… no grit, no pearl.

  She’d withstood a lifetime of grit before she was even a legal adult. And maybe she could finally accept—with his constant encouragement and unfaltering love—that she did end up a pearl.

  Dusty turned to open the shower door and reached for a towel. As he pulled it off the rack, he saw her. She flushed under his stare, and was silently amused by her reaction—he was the one that was naked, after all.

  Leaning against the door with a smile on her face, caught up in her thoughts and his song, she realized it probably looked suspiciously like an invitation to him.

  He stopped singing and waggled his eyebrows.

  “Hi. I didn’t see you there. Come on in. There’s plenty more hot water for you,” he said.

  She quickly scooped up the uniform he’d taken off the night before, and tossed it into the hamper. She turned and hurried out of the bathroom, her thoughts going back to her mental checklist of all that needed to be done in the next few days.

  “I can’t right now,” she called out over her shoulder. “I’ve only got a few minutes to get out of here. I need to get to Gabby’s house and help the twins get the food ready before your brother gets there.”

  She stepped into the laundry nook and pulled his clean uniforms from the dryer, shoving them into a laundry bag. I’ll ask Olivia to help me iron these, she thought.

  Dusty wrapped the towel around his waist and followed her. He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

  Oh shit. Here comes the guilt. It had been days—a week?—since she’d let him touch her
. Not on purpose; she’d simply been frantic. Snappy and tense for the past month.

  She tried to blame it on pre-wedding jitters. But she knew it was more than that.

  She focused on the clothes again and filled the bag, tied a simple knot on top, and headed for the door, intent on putting it in the car so she wouldn’t forget. It was nuts that the police department had cut their uniform budget. Now the officers had to wash and press their own, only long enough to fund a new addition to their shooting range. There had been a vote and it was unanimous—everybody wanted a new gun range. Emma wondered how many other wives or significant others were wishing they’d been there to vote.

  Dusty stepped in front of her. “Emma, calm down. Take a breath. I haven’t seen you relax in weeks.”

  She pushed her hair out of her face. “I can’t. I’ve still got so much to do. I have to get your uniforms ironed, get Rickey’s clothes caught up, get us packed… and… get Olivia to do my final fitting… re-check reservations… make sure all of you get your final fittings… and…” She huffed. “I’ve just got a thousand things to do before the wedding.”

  Dusty reached out and uncurled Emma’s fingers from around the bag, gently taking it away from her.

  “Hey… Chill! Just think…in three days we’ll be relaxing on the beach at Bald Head Island. You can lie out on the sand and I’ll be your pool-boy, bringing you whatever you need to relax. We’ll get everything done and we’ll get there, so slow down, babe.”

  Dusty kissed her fingers.

  “We both know Olivia will take care of everyone’s final fitting without you holding her hand. She and Gabby will help you with anything you need. And I’ll take care of these uniforms on my way to the station for that quick meeting I have. The guys found a drycleaner that will press them for next to nothing. Will that help?”

  She blew out a breath and her shoulders lowered. “No. I offered, so I’ll do them. I’m taking them with me to Gabby’s. I just can’t seem to get caught up. My mind’s going a thousand miles a minute.”

  She ran her fingers through her long hair. “I know I’m awful—are you sure you want to keep me?” her voice hitched on the last word.

  Geez. Why am I so damn emotional lately? she wondered. Hoping Dusty didn’t hear the hitch, she cleared her throat, blinking away the wetness that had sprung to her eyes.

  “Hey. C’mere you…” Dusty dropped the bag and picked Emma up. She didn’t resist. Even with his chest damp and cooling down, his touch still melted her. She wrapped her legs around him and dropped her head onto his shoulder. She breathed in his clean scent. His body against hers chased away the tension and she was suddenly wonderfully limp. He carried her to the bedroom, where he playfully fell onto the bed with her tucked under him, as he brushed kisses up and down her neck.

  He reached under her neck, cradling her head in his hand, and lifted her face to his. He parted her mouth and kissed her slowly.

  My body is a traitor—doesn’t it know there’s no time for this? she thought, as her hips rose up to meet his.

  “For the hundredth time, yes, I want to keep you! I want to look into those beautiful blue eyes of yours and say I do. I want to watch the wrinkles slowly frame them as we squint at the same sunset over and over, year after

  year. I’m going to marry you, silly girl,” he said as she stared back into his piercing gray eyes.

  She could see the gold flecks, shining larger and brighter than usual. He didn’t break his stare; he met her eyes unblinkingly… as though he had nothing to hide.

  She cursed herself for her insecurities, but it still seemed like a fuzzy fairy tale—him wanting her, out of all the women he could have. Why? And what if he suddenly wakes up and changes his mind about having me for a wife? What if he realizes I’d settle for just having him... married or not? She loved him that much.

  As if seeing the unspoken questions still in her eyes, Dusty rolled to his side and propped his head up.

  He took a deep breath and plastered on a serious look that she saw right through; but she didn’t crack a smile; she didn’t want to hurt his ego.

  “So dagnamit, woman, don’t question me again… you will be my wife by the end of the week, even if I have to cuff you to get you there. I’ve waited long enough.”

  Emma’s face flushed with the reminder of the cuffs. Usually neither of them brought up that subject out loud, out of the bounds of their love-making… another wave of guilt washed over her. She’d ignored his needs for the last few weeks, but her head was spinning with so much to take care of before the wedding.

  She couldn’t even hide her thoughts from this man who knew her so well, she realized, as he said, “And no, I’m not dropping hints about sex. This is about us getting hitched. I mean it, Emma. This is it this time. No more false starts or changing the date. I’m tired of living alone. I want to sing in the shower—here—every single day… with you. I want to be with you and Rickey all the time. I want to be your husband.”

  He stood up and held out a hand. She grabbed it and pulled herself off the bed.

  “I told you to move in months ago… begged you to move in… so don’t give me that. You’re living alone by choice,” she reminded him.

  He wrapped his arms around her once again, pulling her to his chest. “And you know why I haven’t. That’s not a good example to set for the boy, and we don’t want him thinking we were living in sin, right? Now, let’s get going. Rickey will be worried, and my big brother will be heckling us if we’re late,” he said as he slapped her bottom.

  Emma leaned back and put her finger on his nose, pushing it playfully. “You, sir, are such an old soul. Everybody lives together nowadays.”

  Dusty stepped out of the bedroom and grabbed the laundry bag and headed toward the front door.

  “Not me! I’m keeping you a lawful and honest woman until our wedding day, little lady.” He turned once again and winked at Emma as she blushed.

  “Then you might want to put some clothes on before walking outside!” she said, laughing around her words.

  He stopped in his tracks and held his hand out, letting the bag drop to the floor at the front door. “Oh,” he answered. He laughed at himself.

  Her heart gave a little flip. Dusty was an incredible man. After all she’d been through before him, he still treated her like a lady. He wasn’t about to cut off his nose to spite his face… he and Emma were already very intimate and hadn’t stopped, but he’d take it to his grave before telling a soul. He was very discreet. He wouldn’t even risk taking a shower there unless Rickey wasn’t home, and they were in a hurry to get somewhere, like today.

  He’d given her back her honor, and was adamant about protecting it, especially to her son. He was going to make a wonderful husband and father.

  She watched as he turned around and strutted back toward her, exaggerating his steps and swaying his head side to side. As he passed her, he paused. He gave a little wiggle and the towel ‘accidently’ dropped to the floor. He gasped and covered his mouth with his hand in mock embarrassment and then hurried away with his head held high.

  Chapter Two

  Dusty sat on the edge of his seat, his chin in his hands, elbows on knees. Not only was he in a hurry to get out of there but he was a little uncomfortable working on this new team; he was regretting volunteering.

  It wasn’t the operation or the hopeful upcoming sting that had him worried. It was the detective in charge. Dusty had tried to avoid any personal comments, but the damn detective seemed to think it was okay to rib him in front of the guys.

  He gritted his teeth. It’s not okay.

  Dusty had all the respect in the world for the guy. He’d told him about the job to begin with. They grew up together for goodness sake. But work was work… play was play. He’d have to talk to him outside the station about it—later.

  “What say you, Officer Rowan?”

  Dusty shook his head. “I’m sorry. What?”

  “Look alive, soldier!”

&nb
sp; Dusty rolled his eyes. They weren’t soldiers for shit’s sake. They were cops. Not even funny…

  He slid back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. What was the question?”

  The detective scoffed. “No question. Just poking at you. I saw you daydreaming—probably about your bride-to-be?”

  Dusty didn’t answer. He didn’t appreciate being asked something so personal in front of the group. It didn’t help that he was leaving for a week either, right when things were starting to get hot on their operation. Couldn’t help it, though. He’d waited over a year to marry Emma. Nothing was going to keep him from it now.

  The detective gave Dusty a half-smile and waved his hand at him. “Aww, no need to answer that. I know you need to get out of here. I’ll wrap it up with this reminder to everyone.”

  He addressed the small group of men—four officers and two computer geeks, not including himself.

  “If you think you’ve located a potential, try to get up close to check for tattoos. Typically, a crown or dollar sign—or picture of a bag of money—will mean prostitute. A bar code, or initials could be the mark of a sex slave. But all are interchangeable. Anyone under eighteen years old that you suspect is selling is a victim. Doesn’t matter what they say. Put them on the list and we’ll take a look.”

  He turned toward the computer geeks, lowering his head and peering out from under his eyebrows. “You guys won’t be seeing these potential victims up close and personal. For you…it’s computer only. Same thing I’m doing—for now. Get good copies of any pictures you find that may fit. Blow up images of any tattoos, and pass them to one of the officers on the team. They handle the streets, we handle the screens.”

  He addressed the whole room again. “On a final note, as you heard earlier, we think the operation might be working from right here, in this town.” He pointed down with one finger, emphasizing his point. “And rumor is they’re hitting the social media scene hard, looking for stock.”