by Lucy Quinn
“I’m not telling you again, lady,” the guard called, only his voice was no longer above. Now it was in front and slightly below them, as he’d evidently decided to take matters into his own hands. Dylan tapped Cookie on the shoulder, gestured to himself and Hunter, and pointed toward the voice. Then he tapped her again and gestured back up. She nodded before all three of them erupted into motion.
Dylan ducked out from under one side of the gangplank and hurtled toward the guard like a bullet, going low and aiming for the man’s unprotected back. Hunter, meanwhile, emerged on the other side and lunged for the man’s head and shoulders, arms outstretched.
And Cookie turned, slid out of the shadowed space they’d been hiding in, raised the tranquilizer gun, and took aim at the guard who was now gaping down at them all.
“Hey,” Phil started to say just as Cookie’s first dart caught him in the shoulder. “What—” he managed before her second dart struck his chest and he tumbled backward. There was a dull thud as he hit the deck.
Cookie glanced back behind her, but Dylan and Hunter had already tackled the second guard to the ground and were now binding and gagging him.
“Good to go,” Dylan reported a second later, bobbing back to his feet. Hunter nodded and followed, leaving the trussed-up guard behind.
“Thanks, Mom,” Cookie called, and Rain waved. “You should get out of here now.”
“Like hell I will,” her mother said. “But I’ll back up a little, just to be safe.” She winked and blew Cookie a kiss before ducking back into the cab of Dylan’s truck. A second later, the pickup was reversing down the road, the thrum of its engine barely audible.
Dylan slid past Cookie and started up the gangplank. “Ready?” he asked her and Hunter.
“Ready,” she agreed, raising the tranq gun again. It had a short clip—six shots—so she had four left.
“Ready,” Hunter agreed, pulling the smoke grenade from under his poncho and hefting it.
Together the three of them headed up to the top deck. They paused long enough to tie and gag the unconscious Phil. Then Dylan gripped the door handle and turned to Hunter, who pulled the ring tab and cocked his arm in reply.
With a quick jerk, Dylan stepped to the side and yanked the door open. Hunter had a clear shot down the stairs, and the smoke grenade made a surprisingly deafening clatter as it hurtled downward. Then there was a loud pop and a hiss, followed by the sound of a sudden rainstorm erupting from inside. All three of them grinned.
The planned had worked.
Tugging the hoods of their ponchos up, they ducked inside and hot-footed it down the stairs, with Dylan in the lead. Just as he’d sketched out, most of the lower deck was a single big room, and Cookie was happy to see that no one was there. A door at the far end led into the kitchen, she knew. But she was focused on the closer door, which barred the way to the private dining room and likely housed her best friend.
Even as she sprinted for the door, it opened, and a man jumped through. But he was still blinking water out of his eyes and nearly slipped on the wet floor, arms flailing about for balance. While he was trying to stay upright, Cookie shot him twice in the chest at close range. He was unconscious before he hit the floor.
She ran past him and burst into the smaller dining room and found one very wet blonde, bound in a lone chair.
“Scar!” Cookie rushed to her friend’s side and yanked the gag out of her mouth. “You okay?”
Her best friend blinked up at her. “I’m fine,” she managed after a few seconds. “Hungry, tired, a bit scared, but fine.” Her mouth quirked into a whisper of a smile. “But if you’d told me we were having a wet T-shirt contest, I’d have dressed differently.”
“I’m wearing a poncho,” Cookie pointed out, knowing Scarlett was using humor to keep from breaking down. “I think you win.” She moved around behind the chair and yanked on the ropes holding her friend in place, but the water had made them too slick to untie. “Dylan!” she shouted instead.
He was through the door in an instant, scanning the room as he crossed to them. “You two okay?” he asked, producing a knife from an ankle sheath and flipping it over before offering it to her handle first.
“Better now,” she promised, grabbing the sturdy weapon and slicing cleanly through the ropes. After quickly handing the knife back to Dylan, she scooped Scarlett into a huge hug.
“Hunter’s cuffed the guard in the other room,” Dylan told them, “and I don’t see anybody else, but we should get out of here, just in case.”
“Hell, yes,” Scarlett agreed, pulling loose and giving Dylan a quick hug as well before leading the way toward the door. “I can’t get out of this place fast enough.”
Cookie followed her out.
Hunter was waiting for them in the main dining room, scanning the space for any other threats. “Glad you’re okay,” he told Scarlett once she’d reached him, giving her a quick one-armed hug. “We out?”
“Oh, we are most definitely out,” Cookie agreed. She led the way toward the stairs, her boyfriend, her best friend, and her partner right behind her.
When they emerged from below, she wasn’t at all surprised to see headlights waiting.
“Let’s blow this popsicle stand!” Rain shouted up at them, honking the horn, and Cookie broke into a smile as she headed down the gangplank toward her mother. Her four favorite people in the world were all safe and with her.
That was what she’d call a good day’s work.
21
Nightfall came early in January on Secret Seal Isle, and with it, drastic temperature drops. As much as Cookie wanted to jump into the truck and head for home to warm herself in front a fire with the people she loved, there was still work to do.
First they had to call Swan and half-threaten, half-cajole him into coming out to the Barge to take the men into custody. Swan wasn’t exactly thrilled with the idea of actually having to do his job twice in one day. “Why can’t you just bring them in yourself?” he whined at her over the phone. At least he was more coherent than he’d been back at the Salty Dog, which hopefully meant he had, in fact, taken the one orange-wigged kidnapper back to the station with him and had stopped imbibing for the day.
“Because we only have the one vehicle out here, and no room for all of us plus them,” Cookie replied, trying to keep her temper in check even though adrenaline was still zinging through her. “Please, Deputy Swan. We really need your help.”
“Well… if you need my help,” he said, his tone suddenly more amenable.
She doubted that too many people bothered to ask Swan for much of anything anymore. And even though he was still grumbling when he hung up, twenty minutes later he pulled up in his squad car.
He stepped out of the cruiser, adjusted his hat and his gun belt, and in a loud and deep voice declared, “All right, what seems to be the trouble here?”
“Practice that one in front of the mirror, do you?” Cookie heard her mother mutter, and she laughed before wiping the smirk off her face and approaching him.
Dylan and Hunter had spent the time waiting for Swan dragging the one guard out from below decks, and Phil down from up top, so they had all three men leaning against the front bumper of the truck.
“Right over here, Officer,” Cookie said in her best damsel-in-distress voice. “Thank you so much for this,” she added.
Scarlett hissed, “Not so thick, geez.”
Cookie ignored her, especially since Swan puffed out his chest, eating up her act.
“These the kidnappers?” he asked, still speaking in an exaggerated deep voice, swaggering over with his thumbs hooked in his belt like John Wayne.
“That’s them,” Cookie agreed. She motioned to Scarlett. “And this is their victim, back safe and sound.”
The deputy glanced up, and his jaw visibly dropped as he stared. It occurred to Cookie, belatedly, that the deputy was quite taken with her friend. Scarlett, who was on leave from her high-powered law firm, always turned heads when she walke
d into a room. She was tall and slender, had finely chiseled features, deliberately tousled dirty blond hair, and piercing green eyes.
Swan’s reaction was making it very hard for Cookie not to laugh, especially when Scarlett fluttered her eyelashes demurely and glanced down at her hands before peeking up again.
“Thank y’all so much, Sheriff,” she cooed, her accent suddenly pure Southern belle.
Cookie nearly choked. “Now who’s laying it on thick?” she whispered.
Her friend shot her a quick grin before falling back into character and reaching out to lay an elegant, long-fingered hand on Swan’s upper arm. “I was so terrified,” she explained breathily. “But just knowing y’all are here is pushing back the darkness so I can breathe again.”
Even with the only light coming from the two sets of headlights, Cookie had never seen the deputy turn quite so crimson.
“My pleasure, ma’am,” he managed between gulps, taking off his hat and sweeping into a deep bow like he was presenting himself to royalty. “Anything else I can do for you, you just let me know.”
“Oh, I surely will,” Scarlett replied, clasping both hands to her chest. “Thank you so much.” She stood there and watched as Swan—with help from Dylan and Hunter—hauled the three men into the squad car’s back seat, then waved as Swan slid back behind the wheel, gunned the engine, and pulled away, fishtailing a little on the loose dirt and sand.
“You never told me your last name was ‘O’Hara,’” Cookie quipped once the squad car took off down the road.
Scarlett shrugged, dropping the persona like an old coat. “Nothing beats Southern for ‘damsel in distress,’” she pointed out with a wicked grin. “Besides, it kept him from asking any other questions, didn’t it?”
“That it did,” Cookie had to agreed. She turned to the others. “We done here?”
Hunter and Rain both nodded, but Dylan held up a hand. “Not yet,” he said, looking disappointed. “But almost.” He pointed out toward the water, where a motorboat was headed for the pier. It had to be his friend Abel—Dylan had called him while they were waiting on Swan.
The motorboat docked, and Cookie helped wrestle the three hydrobikes back onboard. “Thanks, man,” Dylan told the owner once they were done. “Really appreciate it.”
“No worries,” his buddy replied. “Any time you want ’em, just say the word.” Then with a wave, he started the motorboat’s engine again and put it in reverse, pulling the boat back out into the open water.
“Now we’re done,” Dylan said. “Couldn’t just leave ’em sitting out here,” he explained apologetically as he headed for his truck and pointedly nudged Rain out of the way so he could take the wheel. She huffed a little but slid over into the middle and let him in. Cookie put Scarlett in the passenger side, and even though Dylan insistently tried to get her to ride up front where it was warm she chose to join Hunter and climb in back. Fortunately there were some blankets they were able to spread out and sit on.
It was a chilly drive, and they were both shivering by the time they pulled up at the inn.
“First things first,” Rain declared as they headed inside. “Let’s get y’all warmed up.” She turned and hugged Scarlett. “And you’re going to want a nice, hot bath, hm?”
“That sounds divine,” Scarlett agreed, and Cookie felt a pang of guilt. Here she was feeling cold and miserable, and all she’d done was sit in a truck bed for a few minutes, while her best friend had spent the last two days tied to a chair, held captive by a bunch of crazies.
Which reminded her of something. Sidling up beside Hunter as they entered the inn, she whispered, “Brad got away.”
His sharp nod told her that he’d already been stewing over that detail. “For now,” he corrected, and his voice was a gentle rumble. “We’ll get him, don’t worry. I’ll put out an APB in the morning, wanted for kidnapping and embezzlement. He won’t get far.”
A slight weight lifted off Cookie’s shoulders, though she was still kicking herself as they settled into the living room. They’d been so focused on rescuing Scarlett that she hadn’t even noticed that none of the trio they’d encountered had Brad’s telltale orange hair. Nor had they taken the time to question the guards about their boss’s whereabouts. What if he’d been there the whole time, but had slipped away while they were freeing Scarlett from her bonds? The very idea that he’d been within reach and had slipped away was enough to incense her anew.
She suddenly jumped in surprise as someone wrapped an arm around her.
“Hey, relax,” Dylan whispered in her ear. “It’s okay. We got her back safe and sound.” His words were like a balm, soothing away some of the anger and anxiety, and Cookie leaned back into his arm and his side. He radiated a welcoming heat, along with the distinctive mix of oil, wood, saltwater, and sweat she’d come to associate with him.
“I know,” she agreed, snuggling in deeper. “Thanks.” He’d promised they would, she realized. And he’d delivered on that promise. Not a lot of guys could say that.
Then, as if he’d heard her earlier thoughts, Dylan added, “We’ll get Brad, okay? But tomorrow.”
She laughed. “Stop reading my mind.”
“Why, is there something in there I won’t like?” he asked with a slow smile.
“No, but you might blush,” she answered, and Cookie laughed again as he did exactly that. Not all of the warmth racing through her now was from mere contact, or from the fire Hunter had just stoked in the living room fireplace. Seeing her former partner reminded Cookie to tone down the flirting a little, though. She knew that they’d reached a new understanding, and it looked like he and Dylan were actually getting along as well, so she didn’t want to strain that tenuous peace.
Rain emerged from the kitchen with a tray of steaming mugs and warm brownies and set them down on the coffee table. “Hot cocoa with a little something extra for kick,” she explained as she handed out drinks. “I figured we could all use it.”
Cookie couldn’t agree more. Although she did sniff the brownie Rain offered her to make sure it that wasn’t where the kick was. She was just settling back in against Dylan when Scarlett came downstairs, still toweling off her hair. She was wearing a thick bathrobe over her flannel PJs with fuzzy bunny slippers rounding out the ensemble, but she still managed to look like she’d stepped out of the pages of a magazine. How does she do that, Cookie wondered for the millionth time.
“Ooh, drinks!” she said, taking one of the two remaining mugs. Then she plopped herself down beside Hunter, who was on the couch opposite Cookie and Dylan. He smiled and reflexively put his arm around her, and she cuddled in against him. “My hero,” she murmured, smiling sleepily.
Cookie cocked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?” she asked teasingly. “He’s your hero? What about me? Or Dylan? Or Mom, for that matter? This rescue was a team effort, thank you very much.”
Scarlett wrinkled her nose. “What, you want me to come over there and get between the two of you?” she asked pointedly. “Is that it?”
“No thank you,” Dylan replied, gently tugging Cookie closer. “Much as I appreciate the offer, I’m a one-woman man.”
“You’d better be,” Cookie shot back, but she was smiling as she said it.
“Fine, then,” Scarlett told them. “Be all cute and lovey-dovey over there. But don’t begrudge me my hottie over here.” And she leaned into Hunter again, resting her head on his shoulder.
Cookie’s stalwart partner, the playah extraordinaire, looked like a deer in the headlights. He gazed down at Scarlett in wonder, clearly trying to figure out just how serious she was.
Her winking at him didn’t exactly help in any way. But it did make Cookie laugh.
Rain had taken a seat in one of the armchairs and had her feet up on the accompanying ottoman. She sipped happily from her own mug and sighed. “This is good.”
Cookie, having sampled the powerful brew her mother had brought them, had to agree. But she knew Rain wasn’t just talking about the hot co
coa. Rain meant all of them there, together, safe and warm and cozy.
It was very good indeed.
Which was why, when her eyelids began to feel heavy, she didn’t bother to fight it. Instead she just set down her empty mug, snuggled in against Dylan, sighed happily, and shut her eyes.
The strong, steady beat of his heart against her ear helped lull her into a deep, easy sleep.
22
When Cookie woke up, her first thought was that someone had stolen her pillow and replaced it with, if not a rock, something awfully firm. She patted it, and was rewarded with a deep rumbling against her head.
“Morning,” a delightfully gruff voice declared from somewhere just above her, and Cookie tilted her head up to see Dylan grinning down at her. “Sleep okay?”
“Huh?” Cookie propped herself up on her elbows to peer at him through the mass of her hair. She immediately realized two things: she had evidently fallen asleep on him for real last night—and it was last night, judging by the sunlight already peeking in through the windows; and the living room was awfully quiet, void of Hunter, Scarlett, and Rain..
“Morning yourself,” she managed, still blinking the sleep from her eyes. “What time is it? Where is everybody? And did I really just spend the entire night asleep on you?”
“It is”—he lifted his arm from where it had been holding her and consulted the diving watch on his wrist—“nine-thirty in the morning. Hunter took Scarlett down to the station. He said he needed to get her testimony and for her to ID the ones who’d participated in her kidnapping. Your mom is in the kitchen. She said something about making cookies for later.” He leaned down to kiss her on the forehead. “And yes, you spent the whole night using me for a pillow. Fortunately, I’ve had a lot worse.” His dimples winked at her.
“You’re saying it’s bad to sleep with me?” she retorted, sitting up and stretching. “I’ll remember that.”
