Sabrina faced her again. “We’re very sorry for upsetting you.”
After thanking her, Lincoln led Sabrina outside, taking a deep breath of fresh air. Why would anyone want to shop for food at Castillo’s? He agreed it did have a certain amount of charm, being so old and close to the beach, but the risk of food poisoning was a significant deterrent.
“I think we should have gotten a can of sardines. They might have been worth some money.”
He smiled. “Or a roast-beef-and-maggot sandwich.”
She made a gagging sound. “How does a place like that make it here?”
Muscle Beach wasn’t what it used to be. Transients walked the sidewalk along the wide expanse of sand, the ocean washing to shore in the distance.
“Must not be anything else nearby.” Convenience had its price.
“Come on.” She crossed the street they should have turned on to get to their rental. “Let’s walk on the beach for a while.”
What was she doing? Setting him up for more psychotherapy? He followed her across the street anyway and walked with her along the storefronts that faced the beach. Island music played from inside an open-front restaurant. Some tourist laughed inside, starting the day early. Hats and summer clothes hung from racks outside a shop. There weren’t many people out today. A few people walked on the sidewalk—a couple holding hands, an older man with a cane and, farther up, a homeless man pushing a cart full of junk.
“Not the most romantic beach I’ve been to,” Sabrina said.
Did she want it to be romantic? He wondered why that made him recoil. All she’d brought to the surface about Miranda not being everything he’d thought returned. Had she been with him because of who his father was? Because of money? Sweet Miranda. No. She had some good qualities. He wasn’t that poor of a judge of character. But he had to agree the money and fame may have played at least some kind of a role.
When he’d first met her, she’d said she wanted all the things he did. Camping, fishing, a nice but not huge house. He’d never had a chance to take her camping or fishing, but when they’d started to look for houses, he hadn’t liked her choices. Every one of them had been too big. They’d had their first argument over it. He couldn’t stand it that Sabrina might be right.
“Grain of sand for your thoughts,” Sabrina said.
Not again. He didn’t respond. She stopped at another gift shop that had more hats for sale. Plucking one off its hook, she put it on her head. Red hair sprang out from underneath it, and her sparkling green eyes lit with playfulness.
The sight of her softened his angst.
“It’s a penny,” he said.
A slight gust of wind shook the hat, and she put her hand on top of it to keep it from flying off. She laughed a little. “Sand. Piece of the moon...”
He grinned and slipped a hand to her back, pulling her against him so he could dip his head beneath the rim of the hat and kiss her. Catching himself this time, he straightened and stepped back.
“I don’t know what made me do that,” he said.
Her now quite wide eyes blinked into coherency. “I liked it.” She put the hat back on the rack. He started walking down the sidewalk, hearing her jog to catch up.
Did she really like it that he’d kissed her? Was she beginning to change her mind about him? “I thought you had me figured for a cheater.”
It took her a second to catch on to why he’d said that. He wasn’t sure he understood it himself.
“I believe you would have done the right thing had Rayna not seen you and caught you exploring other, less-committing possibilities.”
Less committing. “What’s wrong with letting things happen naturally? Why hold back?”
And she did hold back. He’d recognized that about her.
“I had a boyfriend who naturally climbed into bed with me while he was still married.”
She was talking about Chet. Her experience with him bothered her more than she admitted or was aware.
“You held back before that happened,” he said. “Maybe the men you get involved with take that for disinterest.”
His rationale struck her dead center, he saw, because it was accurate. She held back until it was too late. By the time a guy felt he knew her, she revealed the real her. How could that ever work?
He turned onto a narrow street. Their rental was just a block up ahead.
“Were you thinking of Miranda earlier?” she asked; for some mysterious reason she must need to know.
“Yes,” he answered. “Sitting in a car doing nothing leaves little else to do but think. I think of her a lot.”
He sensed her dislike of that by the nature of her fidgeting hands. “What were you thinking?”
“How much longer are you going to pry into my personal life?” If she didn’t ease up, he was going to lose patience.
“You need to let her go so you can move on with your life and be happy again. That’s all I’m going to say.” She got in the car and faced forward, looking through the windshield. “And I don’t know why I’m so curious. Sorry.”
Her apology defused him. “I am happy,” he said, inside feeling the untruth.
“I meant with another woman. Find someone you love and get married and have kids and live in a charming house happily ever after. That’s what I mean.”
Everything he thought he’d have with Miranda. Dreams like that were irreplaceable. New ones had to form, and none had for him, not yet. He glanced over at Sabrina as he moved around the hood of the rental. Until she’d come along. As soon as that thought hit him, he forced it out of his head. No dream could form with her.
Why not?
Why was he resisting it so hard with her?
Over the top of the rental he spotted a man standing on the side of the street they’d just walked up. He’d looked up pictures of the missing janitor and the woman. The man looked like Sajal Kapoor.
Abandoning the door handle, he went back around the rental and walked toward the man. He saw him and pivoted, starting to run away.
“Mr. Kapoor?” he shouted. “Wait! We need to talk to you!” He ran after the man, veering out onto the street to avoid a pedestrian.
Sajal vanished around the corner. Lincoln cleared the corner seconds later. He spotted Sajal running around people down the sidewalk. Lincoln sprinted faster. Sajal ran onto the street where Castillo’s Market was. When Lincoln followed, he felt something whiz past his head and then heard it hit the brick building. He looked back and saw a dark green Jeep Grand Cherokee on the street and a gunman aiming a weapon out the window.
Lincoln ducked as another bullet flew by. Then he saw Sabrina swing the rental car into the turn. She rammed into the Jeep, sending it swerving toward the hotel.
“Get in!” she yelled, slowing along the street.
He opened the back door and dived in. She gave the car full gas, ramming into the Jeep once more as it straightened its path on the street. Beside them, the gunman was about to fire again.
Lincoln pulled out his pistol and rolled the back window down enough to shoot. Two shots had the gunman ducking out of sight and the driver slamming on his brakes.
Sabrina sailed by and spun into a tight turn. Lincoln’s head hit the back door. Sitting up, he looked for the Jeep and saw that it wasn’t following.
Who was that? Tristan’s men? Were they following Sajal or him and Sabrina? It had to be Sajal. Lincoln had been careful to be sure he and Sabrina weren’t followed. Now Tristan would know they’d been here. And he’d know Lincoln had tried to contact Sajal.
* * *
Back at the RV, Lincoln watched Sabrina go into the kitchen and put her hands on the sink, looking through the small window there. A soft rain had begun. No one was barbecuing tonight. They would be stuck in the confined space of this RV. All her probing about
Miranda had taken its toll on both of them.
There was a friction between them, born of sexual desire, a constant yearning to satisfy it. As careful as Sabrina was about the men she allowed herself to get close to, she felt threatened by Miranda and Lincoln’s feelings for her. The more she questioned him, the more confused he became. Why did it bother him so much to talk about Miranda?
He moved over to Sabrina, drawn there by conflicting emotions that tugged him both to her and cautioned him to keep his distance. Why keep his distance? What about Sabrina should make him stay away? His strong desire to explore the chemistry between them? The nettling instinct that it would be good with her? Good enough for something serious? He was afraid so.
Sabrina turned to face him then, her hands on the counter edge, her eyes firing sexual invitation but her body resistant. She was fighting this, too.
Moving away from him, she went to the sofa and sat. “Is it hot in here?” She fanned her face.
He followed her, standing in front of her. “Yes, but not because of the temperature.”
Did he have to be so calm when he was being blatantly honest? “Oh, well, that explains it.”
“I’m going to ask you something.”
A loaded question? Should she thank him for the warning?
“Do you want to have a relationship with me?” he asked.
He really wanted to know. That touched her. Was he making progress? “Maybe.” Then she shook her head. “No.” Forcing a smile, she grunted a laugh. “No.”
He was half relieved and for a minute started to think she had a point, that he may have commitment issues. The way she laughed said she didn’t mean it. A woman like Sabrina wanting a relationship with him heated his blood. He’d always thought she was beautiful. Attraction wasn’t the problem. It was how far that attraction would lead that was.
He reprimanded himself for thinking that way. What was wrong with being with her romantically? It was becoming more and more difficult to resist the desire. Why not give in? At least a little?
“It’s hard to say where this would go if we let nature have its way,” he said.
“I’ve always found that nature needs some guidance.”
“Or a leash.” Holding out his hand, he said, “Let’s put it to the test.”
“What?”
“Let’s give nature some guidance and see if it’s any different.”
When she continued to wear a blank look, he said, “Up until now, nature has had no guidance.”
Breathing a laugh, she gave him her hand and stood at his coaxing. Her awkwardness warmed him. Her boldness to play along with him did far more.
Bringing her against him, he put his arms around her. She slid her hands up his chest and looped her arms around his neck. She was tall enough to fit him well. Soft in all the right places. He felt her against his chest and tried to make his member cooperate.
“I’m going to kiss you. This is a test.”
“Guiding nature. Got it.”
He pressed his mouth to her still-smiling one, keeping his eyes open. She kept hers open, too. Rain tapped on the outside of the RV, picking up strength. It was cool inside, and he could smell the rain.
Moving his mouth over hers, he traced her lips with his tongue, lightly, gently. His heart beat faster, but he was still in control. Encouraged, he kissed her deeper.
Her eyes sank shut. Was it because she’d succumbed to nature or had she done that deliberately?
He closed his eyes with her and tasted her expertly. He’d kissed a lot of women and considered himself adept enough to get the job done well.
Deciding to caress her, he glided his hands over her rear.
She jerked back and opened her eyes. “I thought this was only going to be a kiss.”
“Nature hasn’t taken over yet.”
She studied him, partially offended. “No?” Pressing her body to his, she rose up and claimed his mouth.
He felt that, all right. Her command of this kiss heated him up. With his hands still on her rear, he pressed her more firmly to him. A sound came from her that sent him further toward nature.
He kissed her hard. She answered him.
Kneading her rear, he grew near to finding a bed and instead lassoed in his control and kissed her neck, holding her head in his hand.
Hearing her ragged breathing made him put his mouth on hers again. He kissed her softly. The urgency began to build. Where before the urgency had begun before a kiss, now it gathered slowly.
She pulled back, gazing up at him with half-closed eyes. She stepped back.
“Nature lost that time,” she said.
And he didn’t know whether to believe her or not. Had she maintained control the entire time or had she been close to forgetting her reasons for rejecting him? Even more disconcerting, why did he consider this a rejection?
Chapter 12
Isadora’s heart finally stopped racing when she rode her bike down the street that would lead her to the field where Candra had said the party would be. If her parents found out what she was doing she’d be in so much trouble. Well, if her mom found out. She didn’t know where her dad was. That conversation she’d heard bothered her. Was her dad okay? Her mom was really worried, too. Isadora had asked her about it, and her mother had said she couldn’t tell her anything specific, that her dad would be okay, he was doing what he had to do. It was essentially what she’d heard him say that night he and her mother had talked.
It was a little cool tonight. Isadora wore a hooded sweatshirt and hiking boots. She pedaled onto a dirt road and spotted the bonfire. She heard voices. Teenagers laughing and talking loudly. The sound of a car approaching made her twist to look back. A car slowed on the road.
For a moment she thought she should ride away from here. If the party was broken up by police, she’d be in even more trouble than if she were just caught sneaking out to come here. But the car picked up speed and drove past the dirt road.
She breathed deep a few times in relief. Nearing the bonfire, she stopped the bike and climbed off, walking with it a few feet before setting it down next to some others. About twenty teenagers huddled around the warmth of the fire. Flames lapped at the night air, reaching three or four feet high and flickering light on the faces of gatherers.
Isadora spotted Candra among the throng. Rubio stood behind her, his arms around her. There was a boy beside them. Blond hair, trim body, sort of tall. He had his fingers in the front pocket of his jeans, thumbs hanging out. His head lifted, and he saw her.
Candra noticed and turned. She smiled wide.
“You made it!” she exclaimed when Isadora came to stand beside them.
“Yeah. It was easier than I thought. My mom must sleep like a rock.”
Rubio lifted a bottle of beer and swigged, one of his arms still around Candra.
“This is Darius,” Candra said.
Very adultlike, Darius removed one of his hands from his pocket and offered it to her. She took it for a shake.
“Hi,” she said.
“Hey.” His deep voice was nice enough, but she detected a slur and his eyes were a little bloodshot.
Rubio moved with Candra so that Isadora stood next to him. She began to feel it was a mistake coming here. The fire was awesome, though. She watched the other teenagers drinking beer and having a good time. Most of them appeared older than Candra and her.
“I’ve seen you around school,” Darius said.
Had he? She hadn’t seen him. There were a lot of kids in her school. Plus, she didn’t pay much attention to the older boys.
“You’re a pretty nice-looking girl.”
Her Indian complexion was smooth and the color of creamy mocha coffee. Her mom always told her she had pretty brown eyes.
“I like the way you dr
ess, too,” he said.
He sure wasn’t afraid to say it outright. “Thank you.” She didn’t think she dressed any different than the other girls. Sometimes she wore hats or scarves. And she wasn’t popular, not by any stretch. Her dark skin tone set her apart from a lot of the other kids. Some just didn’t accept her as easily as others, and Isadora wasn’t exactly outgoing in school. She did well in her studies and had a few friends, but she didn’t put much importance on being recognized by everyone. She was more interested in the subjects she learned. Well, most subjects. She didn’t like physical education or art.
Removing his other hand from his pocket, he bent for a bottle of beer he’d set down on the ground. Alcohol intrigued her in a dark sort of way. What did it taste like? Why did kids like to drink it?
Seeing her watch him, he asked, “Do you want one?”
She glanced at Candra, who’d heard and gave her a nod. Then she showed her the beer she now held. Candra was trying beer, too.
She turned back to Darius. “Okay.”
He grinned, real cute-like. Putting his bottle of beer down, he went to a cooler to grab her one. Nervous about trying something new that her parents had always warned her about, she rubbed her hands on her jeans. At least the beer would take care of her dry mouth.
Darius returned, twisting the cap off and handing her the bottle. The bitter smell wafted upward, assaulting her nose. She barely stopped a grimace. Darius drank some of his beer as though he’d drunk many before this. A practiced beer drinker. Isadora wasn’t impressed. Was she supposed to be?
She looked over at Candra, who daintily sipped her beer and flirted with Rubio. She seemed to try too hard for approval. If that was why she’d tried the beer, Isadora didn’t think that was a good enough reason. She didn’t want to drink the beer she held, but it was too late to turn back now. Lifting the bottle, she met Darius’s entertained eyes and took a sip.
She could not stop a grimace this time. “Ew!” She handed him the bottle. “That’s horrible.”
His esteem drained away as he took the bottle. “You’re going to be one of those fruity drinkers, huh?” His eyes went down her body and back up as though the idea appealed to him in a purely male way. He finished his beer and tossed it to a trash can sitting near the fire. He made it in with a loud clatter. There must have already been a ton of bottles in there.
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