“I agree with him, Sonya.” Gramps leveled his concerned eyes on her.
“Me too,” Grams added. “Informing Garrett will add another person to help keep watch.”
Sonya stared at Peter. “You have an opinion?”
Peter unfolded his arms and leaned on the table. “If we can’t be armed, we might as well have someone watching our backs who is.”
The last thing Sonya wanted to do was call Garrett.
She sat on a rock having walked down to the beach after their late breakfast. The Double Dippin’, and both skiffs, sat dry with the tide out. Cliffs towered above her, and there was just enough of a breeze to keep the mosquitoes and noseeums from feasting on her. Wisps of hair worked free from her ponytail and she tried to secure them under her ball cap. Not that it did any good. The sun played a losing game of keep away with the ever present storm clouds. It was quiet. Most of the fishermen were probably taking advantage of the minus tide and catching up on sleep, which was exactly what she should be doing.
An eagle screeched overhead. She raised her face to the sky and watched, mesmerized, as the majestic bird soared high above her.
Had the eagle seen who’d cut the painter’s line to the skiff? What else had it seen?
She picked at the tear in the knee of her jeans. Why had someone decided to mess with her? So what if she was drifting and set netting. In the scheme of things, who really cared? Okay, someone did. Who?
Chuck Kendrick? He loved to cause trouble. She didn’t doubt that he got off on it. Other than corking him off the other day, she usually stayed clear of him. The man scared her, though she blustered her way through it every time she was within a few feet of him. If he knew she quaked around him there’d be no telling how far he’d take that tidbit of information.
Kendrick was her bogeyman. Corking him off the other day had been an accident. She sure as hell hadn’t planned it.
Could Aidan be pulling these pranks? That thought upset her more than thinking Kendrick had her in his sights. She’d loved Aidan, probably still did in some locked corner of her heart.
Don’t go there.
She’d dealt with all that. Aidan didn’t deserve her love. Would he mess with her? She didn’t like the idea of a man she’d shared herself with, wanting to cause her grief. She couldn’t have misjudged his character that much, could she?
Idiot. Black eye, remember. You hadn’t seen that coming.
No, she couldn’t discount Aidan, which meant she might have an enemy living right next door. She surveyed the Hartes’ camp across the creek. They’d shared this section of beach for a long time. Her dad and Earl had actually been friends until her mother had come into the picture. Both men had been enamored with Kyra the summer she’d hired on as a cannery worker, but Mikhail Savonski had won her heart.
A sharp pang of loss intruded—how she missed her parents and her sister. Two halves of one egg, she and Sasha had been inseparable. Sometimes she missed Sasha so much she couldn’t breathe. Losing her had been like losing a limb. She’d never be completely whole again.
As far as Sonya knew, she could have pissed off anyone out here. Most kept to themselves, others liked to mess it up. She’d definitely caught someone’s attention. Which brought her right back to contacting Garrett.
How did one go about contacting a fish cop anyway? They were always around when you didn’t want them, but when you needed them, poof, nowhere in sight. She’d be damned if she’d radio the Calypso. It wasn’t like you could have a private conversation on the VHF. If she got on the radio, every fishermen out in the bay would know she was contacting the trooper.
She’d have more trouble than she already had if she did that.
So that left her to hunt down Garrett. It wasn’t like she could sneak up on the Calypso without anyone noticing. Except someone had boarded the Double Dippin’ without anyone being aware.
Nope. She wasn’t about to seek Garrett out. Not going to happen. She’d have to take her chances. Be on her guard, and if Garrett happened across her path then she’d mention the problems they’d been having. Besides, they were on top of things. The chance of more mishaps, now that they were being vigilant, was unlikely.
So much for vigilance.
They’d fished the set net sites during the night tide, returning to camp in the wee hours of the morning. Sonya had anchored the Double Dippin’ in front of camp, right at the end of the running line. She hadn’t gotten any sleep because she’d felt the need to constantly check the boats every half hour. A lot of good that did.
Someone had still gotten by her.
The Fish and Game had closed fishing for the next twenty-four hours to increase salmon escapement up the river, which gave the fishermen a much needed rest before drifting tomorrow.
Not that her crew would get any.
Sonya clenched her fists and wanted to punch someone, preferably the asshole messing with them. They were down a skiff again, but this one hadn’t been cut adrift.
It was left tied to the running line and sinking to the bottom of the damn ocean.
She reached for the mic to radio the cabin, and then set it back on its clip. The first thing her crew was going to ask her was if she’d contacted Garrett. Of course, she hadn’t and she’d been fortunate not to have run into him.
Or unfortunate as the case now seemed to be.
There wasn’t anything anyone could do for the skiff. It was dead in the water until the tide went back out.
She picked the mic back up and changed to channel sixteen, the trooper’s station on the VHF.
“Calypso this is…” She stopped and then began again. “Come in Calypso.”
She waited and then there was a crackle followed by a burst of static. “Calypso here.” It wasn’t Garrett who’d answered the radio. “Please identify yourself.”
Damn. “Can we switch to channel fourteen?” she asked, hoping to get off the trooper channel. It would afford them some privacy as long as whoever was listening didn’t decide to change channels along with them.
“Roger that.”
Sonya changed channels. “Calypso?”
“Roger. Whom am I speaking to?”
“I need to talk to Hunt.” There was silence except for the occasional blips of static. Sonya waited and hoped, since she’d gone this far, that Garrett was actually on board.
“This is Hunt, over.”
The sound of his voice came across the radio as large as life, and her hand shook when she pressed the button to speak into the mic. “I need to meet with you.”
Another pause and then. “Sonya?”
Dang it. He had to go and say her name. As far as she knew, she was the only Sonya in Bristol Bay. “Can you meet with me?” she repeated.
“Where?”
Now, how to explain where to meet without letting every other ear listening know? “Your surfing haunt.”
“Roger. When?”
“An hour?”
“Roger.”
Hopefully, she and Garrett were the only ones who knew where he’d surfed after the first day of fishing. She ended the transmission and changed the VHF back to her normal channel. Now how to get to the old Diamond O Cannery? She couldn’t very well show up in the Double Dippin’. Talk about broadcasting. She glanced down at her wrinkled, slept-in clothes.
What was she going to wear?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Garrett handed the mic back to Skip. His day just got a hell of a lot more interesting.
“Sonya?” Judd asked. “As in Savonski?” He tore through a piece of jerky with his teeth. Breakfast onboard the Calypso was a no frills affair.
“The same.” Something must have happened for her to contact him. He doubted she wanted to finish what they’d started the last time they’d been together. Pity. He hadn’t had a peaceful night’s sleep since. “We need to take a detour.”
“We’re supposed to be investigating the drift boat fishing in closed waters upstream.” Skip’s brow creased in a frown as
he helped himself to another Oreo.
“I’m sure you and Judd can handle it.” Garrett knew Sonya wouldn’t be calling if she could help it. The woman wasn’t the kind to ask for help. “Something’s up.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I can feel it.”
“You want us to go with you before we head upstream?” Judd asked, speaking around the jerky in his mouth.
“No.” The last thing Sonya would want was a posse of troopers. He knew it had been hard enough on her to call for him, heard it in her voice. “Drop me off at the cannery. I’ll make my way with the jeep from there.”
“Do you think you could stop in at the General Store and say hello to Davida for me?” Judd looked hopeful.
“I’m sure Skip will wait five minutes for you to say hello.”
“It’ll take me more than five minutes to say hello to her. Get my drift?”
“We all get your drift.” Skip shook his head and helped himself to another Oreo. “Man, I miss my wife.”
Garrett found Sonya inside the abandoned Diamond O Cannery, gazing out at the bay through a broken windowpane. Thick wooden planks squeaked under his booted feet as he made his way to her.
She turned, and then grimaced as she looked him over. “Did you have to wear the uniform?”
“It’s who I am, Sonya. Who you called.” He soaked in the sight of her, from her ball cap, to her worn jeans, and the t-shirt with “Ofishially Wild” written across her full breasts. She’d tied a sweatshirt around her hips, accentuating her waist. One look and he wanted her with a hunger of a starving man. He was getting as bad as Skip. Any minute he’d be whining for his woman. Except he didn’t have one to call his own, but he sure wanted to put his name on this one.
Get a grip. He took a step back, keeping plenty of distance between them.
He’d given himself a pep talk in regard to how he’d handle this meeting with Sonya. It was business. He needed to remember his job and the huge conflict of interest that getting involved with her would be.
He had to keep his distance.
At least until fishing season was over.
She lived in Soldotna, he lived in Homer. That was a ninety minute drive. After their last meeting, he’d made a call to a buddy and had her investigated. He’d been shocked to find that Sonya Savonski, the headstrong, hell-bent on trouble, sexy woman captain, was a high school music teacher.
The sun slanted through the cracked windows, causing distorted shadows to dance inside the abandoned building. It was quiet, when one expected whistling wind, or the scurry of rodents.
“This place is clean for being abandoned,” he commented, taking in his surroundings.
“The villagers use it for drying salmon. Soon it’ll be hanging with curtains of fish fillets.” Sonya turned back to the window, as though keeping watch. She kept to the shadows instead of standing directly in front of the opening for anyone to see her as they drifted by.
“What’s up, Sonya?”
She took off her ball cap, folded it in her hands, and turned to her side so that she could keep an eye on him and the view. “We’ve had some trouble and my crew voted that we inform you.”
Her crew might have voted in the affirmative, but he knew she hadn’t. That shouldn’t bother him. Keeping a healthy distance from each other was a good thing, but not at the expense of her or her family’s safety.
He took a step toward her. Who was he fooling? He wanted to be so close to her that the lines of where she started and he began blurred. “What kind of trouble?”
She reformed the cap she’d been twisting in her hands. “Mischief stuff mostly.”
“Mostly?” He advanced another few steps. “Spit it out, Sonya. What’s going on?”
“Besides the hydraulics on the Double Dippin’, someone cut one of our skiffs loose yesterday.” She took a deep breath, and he realized that she wasn’t acting apprehensive over meeting him—at least not much—she was fighting to keep her anger in check. “Now, they’ve sunk one of the skiffs.” She crumpled her hat again and he knew she wished she could tear into the vandal who was causing her trouble.
He reached out and took the cap from her hands. “Keep this up and you’re going to need a new hat.” The scent of honeysuckle drifted to his nostrils. “Tell me everything that happened.”
She filled him in on where they’d found the slices in the hydraulic hoses, the search for the skiff, and the cut rope, and then the reason she’d finally contacted him.
The sunken skiff.
“Have you looked over the skiff yet?”
“No, it’s still on the bottom of the ocean. We’re waiting for the tide to go out, then we can get to it.”
He nodded. “I want to be there with you. I want to see the rope and hydraulic hoses.”
She scanned him from top to bottom. “Not dressed like that.”
“Sonya—”
“Nope.” She shook her head. “Don’t even attempt to argue. It’s hard enough I’m here with you now. Hanging with a fish cop isn’t going to help me. If the other fishermen see that I’ll have more trouble then I know what to do with.”
He tightened his jaw. It was a new experience to have someone ashamed to be seen with him because of his profession. “If you didn’t want my help, why’d you call me?”
“I don’t know.” She rubbed her hands over her face, and he wondered when she’d last slept?
“Yes, you do.” He knew she was frustrated, angry, and worried. Her whole body relayed emotions as though they were signs of an incoming storm. He dropped the ball cap to the floor and put his hands on her shoulders, instinctively rubbing at the tight knots he found. “Sonya. Breathe.”
She lifted her head, and their eyes met. Damn, he really should have stayed on the other side of the room. He saw her turbulent emotions change into something else.
Something far more dangerous.
He found it next to impossible to resist a woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her.
One moment, they were motionless, caught up in their physical awareness of each other. The next found them catapulted into each other’s arms.
He growled as his mouth met hers, grabbing her flush to him, he slammed their bodies against the wall of the building. His hands fought to free the tied sweatshirt around her waist, and then dove under her t-shirt to find skin.
“No…” Her teeth nipped at his jaw. “Can’t…” Her arms tightened around his shoulders. “Do this.” Then she climbed up his body and wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Oh, I think we damn well can.” His erection rode hard against the heat between her thighs. The seductive sound that escaped her almost had him dropping her to the floor and pounding his body into hers right then and there. Her body shuddered against his and suddenly he wanted time. Not stolen moments in some dusty, drafty, old building. An honest-to-God bed with no chance of interruptions.
He was going to regret this later tonight when he couldn’t sleep. “Sonya.” He nuzzled the side of her neck, and she arched against him. “Ah, shit, babe.” He groaned. “You got to stop moving like that.”
She bit his neck and tightened her legs around him. “Then stop moving against me like that.” She moaned, and he was helpless to resist taking her mouth again.
One moment Sonya was dead on her feet, so tired she couldn’t think straight. The next, she felt like she could supply electricity for the whole state of Alaska. Her skin sizzled, her body vibrated, and she wanted to suck dry every morsel of energy Garrett infused her with.
This was wrong.
She’d promised herself she wasn’t going to end up horizontal with him. Though, she hadn’t promise anything about being vertical. She’d never had sex against a wall before. Definitely something every woman needed to experience in her lifetime.
What was she thinking? Right, she wasn’t. She was very much into feeling at the moment. Boy, did she feel good. No, better than good. She felt down right freaking fantastic.
She moaned, he growled, his teeth
biting the cord of her neck. On a sigh of surrender, she angled her head to give him better access. She wanted to give him access to whatever he wanted as long as he continued to make her feel like this.
Garrett’s hands sneaked up her rib cage and under her bra. Yes, right there. Oh goodness gracious halleluiah. His hands were rough, magical.
Her hips cradled his pelvis and she took full advantage of introducing herself to the generous, unyielding ridge of his erection.
“Sonya, we have to put a stop to this.” Garrett thrust against her.
“Uh-huh, right. I know. A few more minutes.”
He croaked out a laugh. “Another minute and I’ll be inside you.”
“And that will be a bad thing, right?”
“So very bad.”
The way Garrett said “bad” didn’t make it sound bad at all. In fact, it sounded way too good, which naturally meant anything that good had to be bad.
She swore.
“Babe, I’m all for that,” he muttered, his words strained, “but one of us has to be responsible.”
“That’s going to have to be you. I’m past that point.”
He sucked in his breath and she realized she’d just given him carte blanche to do anything to her he wanted. He groaned and dropped his forehead to hers. She realized that being a cop, Garrett would have responsibility up the yin yang.
“Okay, this is what we are going to do.” He met her gaze. “I need you to lower your legs.”
“I don’t know if I can do that.” She really didn’t want to do that. A few more minutes of riding him like this and she’d feel a hell of a lot better.
“I’d love nothing better than to take you against this wall, but can you honestly say you wouldn’t regret it afterward?”
She was too tired to make these decisions. Why did he have to be so honorable? She didn’t want to think. She’d been doing too much thinking with all that had been happening. She wanted a moment of oblivion and having Garrett between her legs more than promised a trip.
“You sure know how to spoil a mood, Garrett.” She unhooked her legs from around his waist and made sure she rubbed down the length of him as she regained her balance.
Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel) Page 9
