Oberon Boxed Set (Books 1-3) Welcome to Oberon

by P. G. Forte

  “Nick! Oh, thank God.” Siobhan descended on him in a rush of motion and color and noise, the dark, dark red of her hair clashing horribly with the neon orange of her utility vest. Her anger immediately incinerated the pleasant buzz he’d gotten from being with Scout. “Can you please explain to this Person,” she said, waving her arm, to indicate one of the officers who was standing by impassively. “That he cannot just impound all of my waivers? Christ, we should already be on our way back to the center with them. We need to get a count from them, and we need to begin tallying the data sheets. And we need to do it... ten minutes ago!”

  The officer was a younger guy named Henderson, and Nick had a couple of reasons for being very happy to see him, only one of which was his reputation for knowing when to keep his mouth shut.

  “Those waivers contain the names and addresses of almost everyone who’s been here this morning,” Henderson said quietly, ignoring Siobhan and addressing his remarks directly to Nick, who nodded in agreement.

  “Sorry, Siobhan. He’s right. You can make a quick count if you want to, but you’ll have to do it here. We need those sheets. And the data cards, too.” He turned away quickly from the frustration in her eyes, shutting out the rest of her protests, paying no attention when she stormed away again. “Henderson, just give her a few minutes, okay? Oh and, by the way,” he lowered his voice, and edged a little closer. “Let me have a cigarette, would you?”

  * * *

  “Can I make a suggestion?” Marsha asked.

  Nick heard the persuasive tone in her voice and paused in the act of lighting up. Shit. He really liked Marsha, but the woman was downright spooky at times. She and his cousin Lucy were just about the best friends Scout had in Oberon, so they’d seen quite a lot of them both the last couple of months. Marsha was probably the only person he knew who could look right through his dark glasses and into his eyes. And he hated like hell when she used this particular tone of voice. He was never quite certain, afterwards, whether he’d gone along with her suggestions because they’d made sense, or because she’d somehow mesmerized him into thinking they did.

  “Well?” he asked warily, turning reluctantly to face her. “What is it?”

  “The data cards. You know Siobhan’s gonna go completely over the edge if we don’t get them tallied and call the results in to the Coastal Commission by three o’ clock. You can’t possibly need them before then, right?”

  “Maybe.” He inhaled deeply. God, he loved the taste of tobacco smoke sliding down his throat. He exhaled, and that was pretty good, too. “What’s your point?”

  “If I could take Scout and the girls, and maybe another couple of people, and go back to the center – just down to the other side of the Marina – we could do what we need to do, and be done with everything before you can get finished here.” She smiled at him, looking right through his glasses like always, green eyes flashing in amusement, as if she knew just what he was thinking. “How about it, Nick?”

  “Did you move from this spot at all during the morning?” he asked, trying to meet her gaze without quite looking into her eyes, a neat trick which he couldn’t quite manage.

  “Uh-uh. Didn’t even got to the john.”

  “Anyone else that you know for sure hasn’t been down to the beach?”

  “Well, Erin’s been with me all morning.” She hesitated, and he thought her eyes wavered for just an instant. “And I think Sam’s been here for pretty much the whole time, as well,” she added, nodding toward the guy still hanging around near Kate and Mandy. At the moment, he was pulling a quarter out of Mandy’s ear, while she gaped up at him in wonder, admiration gleaming in her dark eyes. Mandy was one tough cookie, just like her mom. This guy must have put in one hell of an effort to win her over this fast. Nick couldn’t help but wonder why he’d bothered.

  “Sam, huh? Who is this guy, Marsha? I haven’t seen him around before.”

  “I don’t know, exactly,” Marsha answered a little too quietly. Nick glanced at her swiftly. She was watching Sam with a bewildered, slightly wistful expression on her face. “We just met today, but... I don’t know... something about him seems really familiar, somehow.”

  “Uh-huh. But you’re sure he’s been here all morning?” Nick persisted.

  Marsha’s gaze was steady when she met his eyes this time. “He wasn’t working at the table with me, like Erin was, so I can’t be absolutely certain about every minute. But yeah, he’s definitely been here all morning.”

  “Okay.” Nick nodded, satisfied. For now. “As soon as Scout gets back you can go. But one of the officers goes with you, and none of you leaves the center until I say so. Got it?”

  “Works for me.” Marsha grinned.

  “Good,” he said, taking a last drag from his cigarette, and grinding the stub out beneath his toe. “It’d better. Now, let’s go meet your new friend.”

  “Uh, Nick?” Marsha laid her hand gently on his arm, an odd little smile played about her lips.

  “Mmm?”

  “Did you know that during last year’s Cleanup, about 200,000 of those things were picked up, statewide?” she asked, as her eyes flicked down to the ground at his feet.

  He followed her gaze. “What? 200,000 cigarette butts?”

  “Uh, yeah... and uh, I only mention it now because ... well, the whole point of today is to, you know, pick things up?”

  “Ah, shit,” he growled as he snatched the butt back up off the ground. No trash pails around, he noticed. Well that figured. He sighed resignedly and slipped it into his shirt pocket. “You just really had to bust my balls about this right now, didn’t you?”

  She smiled that maddening all-knowing smile, her eyes piercing right through the glasses again. “Hey, you know, it’s like the nuns used to tell you back in grade school… just think of the stars in your crown.”

  “Yeah. Funny. ‘Cept you and I didn’t go to grade school together.” He glared at her. “So how would you know anything about that?”

  Marsha’s face assumed an expression of impossible innocence. “Oh, well... they’re all pretty much the same, don’t you think so?”

  “Do I?” he laughed sharply. This exchange had not improved his mood by one little bit. “I don’t know what I think, Marsha. So, why don’t I just let you tell me?”

  “Hey. Is everything okay here?” Scout asked, coming up behind him. She slipped her hand into his and smiled at him, and he was aware of some of the tightness leaving his chest.

  Her gaze flickered back and forth between their faces uncertainly. He managed a small smile as he answered. “Yeah. Sure. We’re great. Marsha was just saying maybe you want to go back to the center and help her with the tally? Get you and the girls outta here?”

  “Sure.” Scout shrugged casually and turned to glance over at the girls. “Good idea. They’ll be climbing the walls if they have to stay here much longer.”

  “I don’t know about that.” He frowned as he followed her gaze. “They look pretty damn happy to me.”

  “And you say it as if this were a bad thing now,” she marveled, turning back to look at him in amazement.

  He shrugged. “Nah, it’s great. I really like seeing them act so cautious around strangers.”

  “If it’s any consolation,” Marsha broke in, “They were very wary until I told them that Sam was a friend.”

  “A friend? Good thinking, Marsha. Didn’t you tell me you just met the guy today?” he snapped.

  “I know, but—”

  “And why’s he spending so much time with them, anyway?”

  “They were upset, Nick,” Scout reminded him, gently. “You know, after finding the body? I think he’s just trying to keep their minds off it.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, let’s go get you settled. Then I gotta get back to work.”

  He had already taken a step in their direction when Scout placed a hand on the front of his shoulder to stop him. “Wait. So, what’s the plan, anyway? You want to meet up at the center when you’re done
here?”

  Nick looked away, afraid he’d see resentment building in her eyes. Tension gripped his chest again as he answered her. “Look... I don’t know what to tell you, Scout. This is really important, okay? And I don’t know when I’ll get finished here. We might go really late, and... you’ll probably have to take them home yourself.”

  So many of his relationships had foundered on this very point, his inability to separate himself from his work, and everyone else’s inability to accept that. He couldn’t bear to lose her, too. Not now. Not again. Not for any reason, ever. But all the same, he couldn’t just—

  “Oh, okay. So, do you need me to leave you the car?” She sounded more reasonable than she could possibly be feeling. More reasonable than he had any right to expect. And for some reason, that made him feel even worse. “Or can you get a ride home with someone? Or what?”

  He chanced a look at her face. The wide, hazel eyes gazing back at him gave nothing away. “Well?”

  “You take the car,” he told her, at last. If she wanted to pretend that she was okay with everything, that was fine by him. See if he didn’t let her do just that. He didn’t have time for a scene now, anyway. He had a job to do.

  Back to Top

  * * * *

  Chapter Seven

  * * * *

  Marsha concentrated on the data cards ranged on the table in front of her. The cards everyone who participated in the Cleanup had been asked to fill out. The cards listing how many pieces of each kind of trash had been picked up today. The cards she had promised both Nick and Siobhan she’d have finished by three o’ clock.

  Keep dreaming.

  She personally thought chances were slim that anything picked up today would ever be identified as having been connected with the murder. Especially since the trash had all been deposited in dumpsters before the cards were even collected. But on the back of the cards, participants had been asked to list names and addresses, the area where they’d worked, and the names of everyone in their group. That information, she supposed, was the real reason the police were interested in the cards.

  They’d been working steadily for about twenty minutes now. She and Scout and Erin. And Gail and Larry, who had done this with her before, thank goodness. And Sam. Each of them adding the amounts from individual cards together, a half dozen or so at a time, to come up with a final total. The room was more subdued than it usually was during such occasions. Either the specter of violent death was casting a pall on everyone’s spirits, or it was the big cop stationed in the doorway who was doing it. There was little conversation, and hardly any sound other than the quiet scratch of pencils and the irregular clicking of fingers on calculator keys to be heard. The sandwiches, drinks and other snacks which Beach Hoppers had donated for their lunches had all been consumed, and from the lawn outside she could hear the shouts of Mandy and Kate and the excited barking of the dogs as they played on the grass.

  They really could have used a few more people working on this, she thought ruefully. Right now, three p.m. seemed a hopelessly over-optimistic goal. She’d counted on having Siobhan’s help, but her sister had stayed behind to deal with the crowd. As well as the wrap up, which couldn’t even begin until after the crowd was dispersed. And Camille, who was supposed to have been here before them, had not arrived.

  She glanced up at the cop who had positioned himself in such a way that he could keep one eye on the girls and the other on the rest of them. She wondered how he would respond if she asked him to give them a hand, but something in his posture made her decide not to even bother.

  She re-focused her attention on the cards in front of her, carefully working her way down the list from bags to bottles to buckets to caps. Stopping to wonder, as she did every year, why cigarette butts were listed under plastics. It really was amazing, too, how many of them turned up on almost every card. She smiled to herself, remembering Nick’s reaction when she’d made him pick his up. He’d been pretty ticked off, but she didn’t think what happened afterwards had been an intentional attempt, on his part, to embarrass her.

  That was probably just some instant karma smacking her upside the head.

  She sneaked a glance to her left, where Sam was busy with his own pile of cards. She wished she could know for sure what his take on the whole thing had been, but for some reason, she found him unusually difficult to fathom. And that was even before her thoughts were sidetracked, as kept happening, by some minute aspect of his appearance.

  This time it was the sight of his long, graceful fingers sliding down the columns that did it to her. God, he had great hands. He’d taken his jacket off. Just as she’d suspected, his arms and chest were impressively muscular. On one wrist two narrow silver bands, etched with what appeared to be Celtic symbols, framed a watch – also silver. On the other, he wore a heavy silver cuff of Navajo design, set, like his pendant was, with a large piece of turquoise. She found the juxtaposition of all that cool, sinuous metal against the corded strength of his forearms inexplicably exciting. In an ancient, tribal, mythic sort of way.

  What else would you expect from a wizard? She swallowed hard, and tried to slow the suddenly rapid pace of her breathing. It wasn’t as if he were particularly handsome, she told herself sternly. The planes of his face were a little too angular, and his nose too prominent – not to mention his eyebrows! And he was not, in any way, cute. No matter what definition you cared to use. And she’d always, always been attracted to cute. Cute and boyish, in fact, for the most part. And there again, no stretch of the imagination could place him within miles of that classification.

  But there was definitely something about him. No good trying to deny it. He was engrossingly male, for one thing. A fact all her hormones seemed very intent on bringing to her attention. But it was more than that. There was something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but which nagged at her all the same. Something... fascinating, somehow. Something that kept leading her to stare at him. She wondered if he felt it, too? But really, there was no point in even thinking such things.

  Not after that embarrassing scene in the parking lot.

  She almost squirmed in her seat, remembering how the air had become charged with tension – sudden and unmistakable – as the two men sized each other up. They were pretty well matched, she’d thought at the time, vaguely surprised at the unexpected darkness she sensed at work in both of them, as Nick fired off a round of not-too-subtle cop questions at Sam. Or maybe they were overprotective parent questions? Marsha wasn’t sure she could tell the difference, but the girls were groaning in embarrassment, and Scout was doing her best to hide a smile.

  Of course none of them had been aware of the intense, wary, guardedness that Marsha could feel emanating from both men.

  Oh, yeah, Marsha had thought, noting the look on Scout’s flushed face. Yeah, she’d probably find all that raging testosterone amusing and titillating, too. If not for the attendant chills of fear and fury that kept icing down her insides, in rippling waves of cold. She wasn’t sure what was bothering either of them but she wished like hell they’d cut it out. She was practically on the verge of nausea when some of the cold was blasted away by a hot flush of anticipatory embarrassment.

  Oh, no, he isn’t going to—? Oh, shit! Her throat had tightened in self-consciousness an instant before she heard Nick say, “So, I understand you’re going back to the center with Marsha to help tally the data cards?”

  Sam turned to look at her then, one eyebrow raised in an expression of blank and rather indignant surprise. “Excuse me? I’m going where with you?”

  “Marsha?” Nick’s voice was laced with exasperation, as he too turned to face her, his expression mirroring Sam’s. “What gives? I thought this was all set up already?”

  “Jeez, Nick. All I told you was that I needed a couple of people to help me. You’re the one who asked if I knew of anyone who’d been in the parking lot all day. I never said anything about Sam helping with the tally.” She knew her cheeks were flaming red.
Sam frowned at her speculatively, as his wariness spiked up several more notches. Great. Just great. She just loved having this effect on total strangers. Especially strangers with stunning smiles and gleaming eyes. And enough power dormant inside them to power a rocket ship to Mars.

  “No, that’s fine,” he answered slowly; his voice perfectly neutral, his eyes still sizing her up. “I’d be happy to help out. I just didn’t know what you needed.”

  “Well, good, then,” Nick muttered. “Glad that’s finally settled.” He shook his head and planted a quick kiss on Scout’s lips before heading off. “And remember,” he called back over his shoulder. “Nobody leaves until I get there.”

  Marsha had tried to apologize. “I’m really very sorry about this. I didn’t mean to drag you into anything. And if you’d rather not—”

  “It’s not a problem,” Sam had answered. She’d cringed at the impersonal tone in his voice. His eyes were as cold as space, now. And his smile was just a distant memory. “Like I told your friend, I’m happy to help.”

  “Right,” she’d sighed, not believing a word of it. “You did say that.”

  “Excuse me, Marsha?” Sam’s voice insinuated itself into Marsha’s thoughts. She came back to herself with a start, feeling the increasingly familiar flood of warmth in her cheeks. She really had to start getting a grip on that – it was childish and embarrassing. She closed her eyes for a moment and prayed for composure, before answering.

  “Yes?” she responded, with what she hoped was a polite smile. She couldn’t, however, bring herself to meet his gaze, merely sliding her eyes briefly up to his face, then back down to the cards in front of her.

  “I was wondering,” he began again, after another slight pause. “What numerical value do you suggest I assign to the entry too many?” His voice held the faintest trace of amusement.

  Marsha rolled her eyes. “Yeah, we get that sometimes.” She risked another glance at his face, and was relieved to see some of the humor had also crept back into his eyes. They really were beautiful eyes, she thought wistfully, forcing herself not to stare.