Unforgettable Heroes II Boxed Set

by Elizabeth Bevarly

  “Uncle Mike?” I said.

  The big ape did a little dance.

  They were back! Like my half-woman, half-fish costume, I was also wavering between two states of being. Sure I was glad to see my favorite relatives, and their return must mean good news for Aunt Gwen. But I’d started to feel just right in flip flops. Comfortable showing some shoulder. Happy in my role as guardian of The Gull.

  Maybe my extended vacation was over and it was time to get my wool coat out of storage and take up my post at the glossy Chicago hotel?

  Mike and Carol pulled off their ape heads and picked up their drinks. We clinked glasses and toasted without even saying anything, just happy to see each other.

  “We have a lot to tell you,” Aunt Carol said. “And something important to ask, too.”

  “After the party,” Uncle Mike added. “We’ve got to catch up, but I want to have fun. Can’t believe what Skip’s done with the old pirate emporium.”

  The party—aided and abetted by a kickass DJ and plentiful libations—made its official last call at two a.m. after which Maria and LeeAnn staggered back to The Gull where rooms waited. Rita’s nephew Ralph—disproving the working theory about his general uselessness—arrived in time to drive her home. Other guests, in bedraggled costumes that didn’t quite stand up to dancing, wandered off.

  Only Skip and I were left. Alone. Mike and Carol, tired from their trip, made it to midnight and headed to their owner’s suite at The Gull. If I’d known they were coming, I’d have aired out the two months of unused musty smell. But I figured they’d be so happy to be home, maybe they wouldn’t mind.

  “We’ll clean up tomorrow,” Skip said, his dazed expression touching on every surface of his bar. He looked tired but happy. And he should be. Judging from the crowd, the money he’d sunk into the place on blind faith was going to pay off over time.

  “No argument from me.” I had my tail pinned up and my hair down. Emotionally, I was a seagull riding the waves. Up, down. Up, down. Going where? Staying? I didn’t know.

  “If you were wondering where to go now that the party’s over,” Skip said. “I’m hoping you’ll stay right here.” He looked closely at me and put his bare arms around me.

  If Skip ever gave up the bar, he could probably become a mind reader and join Maria’s group of financial prophets.

  Or maybe I was just easy to read.

  “My bachelor pad is nicer than the walk-in cooler,” he added, sweetening the deal.

  “And there’s no hurricane,” I said.

  “And you don’t have to babysit The Gull tonight.”

  My fins drooped. “I’ll miss The Gull.”

  “Not if you don’t leave,” he said.

  I glanced around the bar. Skip was born in Barefoot Key. His family owned a local business. He would stay here probably forever, never considering going anywhere else.

  And me? I could move to Chicago, toss on my suit and cater to strangers.

  Or.

  “I want you to stay,” Skip said.

  “Tonight?”

  “For a start.”

  “And then?”

  “Tell you what. Give me a chance to get you out of the mermaid costume, and you’ll forget you ever thought about walking the plank.”

  “You’re on, pirate.”

  ****

  When morning rolled around and I watched the sun slowly light the sea through the tiny window of Skip’s bar-apartment, I’d made my decision. I stood naked at the window, not wanting to squeeze back into the mermaid costume, my only clothes available. I watched a gull swoop and land on the early morning gulf.

  I heard a slight rustle and Skip wrapped his naked body all around me.

  “I hope you’re not plotting your escape route,” he said, nuzzling my neck with his scratchy morning beard.

  “I’d have to borrow a fishing boat from your dad’s fleet. You could be my captain.”

  He shook his head.

  “Okay, pirate if you prefer that title.”

  Skip sighed, his breath brushing my bare shoulder. “I should probably tell you something I’ve been hiding for almost all my life.”

  The gull took off, swooped low, and dropped a load of crap on a beach chair someone had left out on the sand.

  I sucked in a breath. “Afraid to ask,” I admitted.

  “Because my dad took over his fishing charter from his dad, everyone always expected I would do the same.”

  I nodded. I’d wondered about that when I heard he bought the bar.

  “But I can’t,” he continued.

  “Is this because of your dad’s drinking?”

  “Nope.” Stubble scraped my ear as he shook his head. “Fact is,” he paused and I counted three full breaths. “I can’t be a fisherman because… I get seasick.”

  I wanted to laugh with relief. Seasick? This was the big family secret?

  “Really,” he said, filling in my silence. “Major motion sickness. Hose-off-the-side-of-the-boat puking. Neverending.”

  I turned into his arms and kissed him.

  “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “Because I want you to decide what you want. You don’t have to do anything just because everyone always expected you to. Or because you’re really savvy.”

  This was the sweetest thing Skip had said to me in the six years I’d known him. He didn’t know that my decision was made already.

  “I don’t get seasick,” I said.

  He chuckled. “You have no idea how lucky you are.”

  With Skip naked and squeezed up against me, I actually did know I was very, very lucky.

  “Maybe I’m crazy to give up the fancy-pants hotel opportunity in Chicago and move to Barefoot Key,” I said. “But there are some pretty compelling reasons to stay here.”

  “Such as?” he asked, pulling me a little tighter.

  “For one, I like the challenge of managing the Barefoot Key Revitalization Fund.”

  “And?”

  “The wardrobe. I’m really getting used to bare toes and tank tops.”

  Skip kissed me on the lips like he owned me.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  “You tell me,” I teased.

  “If you tried to leave, I’d put on my pirate costume and come after you.”

  “That’s the best offer I’ve ever had.”

  Skip walked me over to his bed. “I can do even better than that.”

  ****

  That afternoon, showered and wearing fresh shorts and a tank top, I faced my aunt and uncle over a patio table. They looked nervous, but excited, a déjà vu to two months ago when they asked me to take over The Gull while they went home to take care of Carol’s mother.

  “How is Aunt Gwen?”

  “We got the charges dropped,” Aunt Carol said. “Again.”

  “This time,” Uncle Mike added. “Afraid the neighboring vineyards might be less tolerant of her grape-stealing next time.”

  “Well,” I said, going for a cheerful tone. I still had happy hormones from my morning with Skip beaming sunshine all over me. “At least the harvest is over for the year. How much trouble can she get into now?”

  Carol rolled her eyes. “She had big plans for a holiday light display. Probably enough to either blow out power for the whole street or earn her a civil lawsuit.”

  Mike sat back in the aluminum patio chair and cast a wistful glance over the motel. LeeAnn rolled her cleaning cart along the upstairs corridor, rumbling over the concrete cracks. I figured she must be having a good morning because she smiled and waved cheerfully. On another morning, she would be just as likely to give us all the finger. In a nice way, of course.

  Tulip, delighted to have her original owners back, laid her head on Mike’s knee and looked at him with pure adoration. Perhaps I hadn’t paid as much attention to her as I could have.

  “Forgot how beautiful it was in Michigan,” Uncle Mike said.

  Not what I thought he was going to say.

 
“Trees changed colors, the lake water was such a deep blue. Big hearty trees, not like the scrubby pines down here.” He shook his head. “Took me back to when I was a kid. Even saw a few early snowflakes.”

  Carol nodded. I waited. I thought they’d run back to Florida as fast as they could, escaping the north before winter settled in.

  “I’ll just say it,” Carol said. “Savvy, my crazy mother needs a full-time keeper, but she won’t move down here.”

  Oh, shit. They wanted me to do crazy Aunt Gwen duty? I hadn’t told them I wanted to stay here in Barefoot Key, and I had no idea what they were planning.

  “Do you need my help?” I asked neutrally, wanting to be a champion niece but hoping they would say no.

  “Do we ever,” Mike said emphatically. “How would you feel about scrapping your Chicago job and taking over for us permanently?”

  “With Aunt Gwen?”

  Carol and Mike stared at me and then burst out laughing. Carol shook her head. “I wouldn’t wish that old bat on anyone.”

  “We mean here,” Mike said. “The Gull. If you’ll take it off our hands. We want to move home. Retire north instead of south like normal people.”

  “Take over The Gull?”

  “Take it,” Carol said. “The whole thing. You can have it.”

  “Have it?”

  Fighting for understanding, I glanced over at Skip’s bar. He was shirtless, sweeping off the sand from the beach entrance. He caught my eye, waved, and started over. Maybe I looked desperate.

  “It’s all yours,” Mike reiterated. “We want to give it to you, no strings attached.”

  “But…you can’t just give away a motel,” I protested.

  “Sure we can. It’s ours. We paid it off years ago and put away money to retire on. Don’t need to buy a house since we’ll have to be on site with Gwen to keep her on the sunny side of the law. Really,” he said. “We want to give it to you.”

  I glanced around The Gull, seeing it with fresh eyes. What if it were mine?

  “We were planning to leave it to you when we kicked the bucket anyway,” Carol said. “But that’s silly. Why not transfer it now when you can really make something out of it?”

  Skip stepped onto the concrete patio and accepted a shameless display of affection from Tulip before pulling up a chair touching mine.

  “Looks like I missed something big,” he observed.

  “We’re giving Savvy The Gull. Retiring north to take care of Carol’s mother,” Mike said.

  Skip’s eyebrows flew up, and he turned a shocked face to mine.

  “Really,” I said.

  “The place looks better than ever. You’ve done a great job running it, even though you were busy rescuing the whole town,” Carol said, smiling. “And I love your new look,” she added, indicating my outfit and bare feet. A far cry from my former buttoned and covered up state.

  “I didn’t exactly save the whole town,” I said.

  “Not what we heard. And we heard a lot at the party last night,” Mike said.

  “People were doing a lot of drinking, but it’s true. Savvy isn’t just another pretty face,” Skip agreed. “She figured out the scheme and flushed out the swindlers.”

  Maria’s cleaning cart rolled nearby and she paused, leaning on it and watching our little group under a patio umbrella. Carol scooted her chair closer to mine. “What do you think, honey? Are you happy here? You sure look it to me, but this has to be your decision. Do you want to stay in Barefoot and put down some Florida roots?”

  I smiled. “Skip asked me the same thing this morning.”

  Carol’s expectant look magnified. “Skip asked you a question, did he?”

  “I knew it!” Maria exclaimed. “Just like in my dream.”

  “And I said yes. Looks like staying in Barefoot Key is the savvy thing for me to do,” I said.

  Skip slipped an arm around me, my aunt and uncle raised a glass, and Tulip settled happily on my bare toes in the sunshine.

  THE END

  About Amie Denman

  Amie Denman lives in a small town in her native Ohio with her husband and sons. When she’s not reading or writing, she enjoys walking and running outside. The helpless victim of a lifetime of curiosity, she’s been known to chase fire trucks on her bicycle just to see what’s going on. Amie believes that everything is fun: especially roller coasters, wedding cake, and falling in love.

  Books by Amie Denman

  Blue Bottle Beach

  Will Work for Love

  Her Lucky Prize

  Her Lucky Catch

  He’s On Her Trail

  For information about upcoming releases and appearances, please visit Amie’s Website:

  www.amiedenman.com

  NICK OF TIME

  Climax, Virginia Mystery Series

  Bobbye Terry

  To that one man who waits for his chance to satisfy a woman’s dreams.

  New violence arrives to the town of Climax, lurking beneath the conventions and quirks of a down-home southern lifestyle. In the middle of the chaos, Sheriff’s Assistant Emily Franklin falls in love with newcomer Nick Troy, and the two embark on a treacherous journey to discover who is hiding behind an evil web of crime. Amid kidnappings, trafficking and murder, will the lovers’ happily ever after turn into a drearily dead down under?

  PROLOGUE

  “Easier than trapping the Easter Bunny.”

  Caja stood in the forest, on a dank mat of leaves, right next to his prize. Execution, flawless.

  The dark skinned woman, long black hair glistening in the few remaining sun rays of the day, struggled in the trap dangling from the hickory tree. Her shadow cast notched, distorted images across the rotting vegetation of the swampy woodland soil.

  “Tengo que escapar,” she screeched, her voice echoing through the trees. “The Saints save me.”

  “No Saints, lady, and no escaping either.”

  At the sound of footfalls shifting leaves on the forest floor, Caja glanced in the distance. Monstruo sprinted toward them. Panting heavily, the guy halted when he saw her. Leering at the woman, he approached the snared prey.

  “Good work.” Leaning over to the netting, Monstruo stuck his hand through it and grabbed her breast. She thrashed to escape his hand, whimpering, but he squeezed down and kissed the air. “Good set of jugs. What a pity.”

  “Where’s her old man?” Caja stared off in the distance.

  “Tied up in the back of that abandoned excuse for a house.” Monstruo grinned as he licked his lips. “Let’s cut her down and take her back there, have some fun.” His laughter echoed through the forest, maniacal and icily haunting.

  Caja shuddered. This one didn’t have a single civil nerve ending. “What’re you gonna do?”

  Monstruo wrapped his finger around a strand of her hair. “Right now, dip my stick.”

  “Let me go, I have a child at home.” The woman struggled again against her bindings.

  Caja’s eyes flew open. “Oh for Christ’s sake, she’s gotta kid somewhere.”

  “He ain’t got her.”

  Caja shifted his feet. “I thought we just wanted to get them out of the picture. Then go get a beer.”

  Monstruo frowned at him. “We’re getting them out of the picture. After a little fun.” He grinned at the woman. “This won’t take that long. The night is young.” He laughed again. “Then, little lady, you can have your man. We’ll help you cement your relationship.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  The door of the house squeaked open a couple of inches, the safety chain still latched. Bright blue eyes peered through the crack. “I see by your truck you’re in construction, I don’t need any repair. Too late anyway. Feel free to visit me tomorrow at the Sheriff’s Office.” She slammed the door shut.

  Scowling, Nick Troy turned to Grady. “That’s the oddest welcome I’ve ever had. Do you think Taylor’s sister hates him?”

  “Try again, boss. Maybe Taylor got his wires crossed. Wouldn’t be the first t
ime.”

  Nick knocked on the door. “Please open up, we’re not soliciting.” The door inched open one more time. He stared at the woman, only seeing her bright blue eyes glaring into his. “Look, we’re supposed to be here. You are Emily Franklin, aren’t you?”

  She blinked. “If I am?”

  “We work with your brother.” He smirked. “Taylor told us we could stay here while we’re on the project.” He fished a card out of his pocket and poked it through the door.

  She snatched it with two fingers and drew it through the tiny opening.

  At the sound of the latch coming undone, he sighed in relief. For a minute he’d thought the barrel of a shotgun was next.

  “I…I’m sorry. Taylor didn’t tell me anything about your coming. There’s been a scam going on here in the community, and since you drove down here for more than mile on a private road, I just…” She placed a hand on one hip and swung the door open. “Never mind, come inside. Guess I’ll need to freshen up a room for you.”

  The woman was splotched red from her upper chest all the way up her neck. However, the reddish brown hair was what caused Nick’s gut to constrict. A redhead. Jeeze. He was a sucker for the hot ones.

  Grady stepped forward. “My friend’s been struck mute, and he doesn’t have any manners. Name’s Grady Allison. Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He elbowed Nick. “This here is Nick Troy, Taylor’s right-hand man.”

  She smiled broadly and sighed. “Nice to meet you, Grady. As you already know, I’m Emily Franklin, Taylor’s ill-informed little sister. I’m happy to know one of my guests is from the South.”

  Nick ground his teeth. “I’ve lived in the South for ten years.”

  “Sorry.” She giggled like a little girl. “You still sound like you’re from California.” Her eyes flew open. “Not that it’s a bad thing. Some of my best friends are from states outside the South. Carolina Mann was raised in New York City. Can’t get any less like Dixie. And her husband’s from there, too. They settled here. We’re friendly.”