by Lucy Quinn
“No, I’m saying falling asleep on the couch isn’t exactly my preference,” he corrected far too cheerfully for so early in the morning. “As far as sleeping with you”—he grinned at her—“I couldn’t say. Yet.”
That earned him a raised eyebrow. “Yet, eh? You’re pretty sure of yourself for a guy who just told me that sleeping with me ‘wasn’t as awful as some.’” She poked him in the ribs and took advantage of his distraction to bounce to her feet. Her body immediately took up protesting the contorted position she’d slept in the night before, and she winced, shifting and stretching to work out some of the kinks.
“Hmm, is this you playing hard to get?” Dylan asked, rising to join her. He was still grinning as he stepped closer. “Because I seem to remember somebody kissing me on Christmas morning. Or did I imagine all that?” He wrapped his arms around her, and she only put up a token struggle before leaning into his embrace.
“No, you didn’t imagine it,” she said, rising to kiss him gently on the lips. “And if you play your cards right, there’s a whole lot more where that came from.”
“I am very good at cards,” he whispered, kissing her back. “Terrible at bluffing, though. And I tend to go all-in a lot.”
“Oh, do you?” she murmured back. Her aches and pains suddenly vanished, and all she could think about was Dylan holding her close, his stubble tickling her chin, his lashes all but brushing hers as he leaned in for another kiss.
This time they held the kiss longer, their lips parting, tongues darting out to touch. Cookie felt a thrill race through her, electrifying her entire body. “Everybody’s out, you said?” she asked softly against his mouth.
He nodded, and she felt as much as saw the motion. “Everyone except—”
Something crashed in the other room, and Cookie jerked away from him, now wide awake for completely different reasons. “Mom!” she shouted, turning and bolting for the kitchen where she thought the sound had originated. “Mom, are you okay?” She covered the distance in a flash, dashing through the dining room and shoving open the swinging door into the kitchen.
Rain was crouched down, picking something up off the floor. A metal baking tray lay beside her.
“Oh, good morning, dear,” Rain chirped, glancing up to grin at her where she stood in the doorway. “Sleep well?” Her gaze shifted just past her daughter as Cookie felt Dylan’s warmth slide up behind her. “I’m guessing I already know the answer to that.”
“Everything okay in here?” Dylan asked over her shoulder. “We heard a crash.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” Rain replied, waving a hand. “I just dropped some cookies, is all. Nothing to worry about.”
Cookie stepped into the room, adrenaline still racing through her, and squatted down beside her mother to help pick up the broken cookies. “You had me worried,” she said quietly.
“I’m sorry.” She could tell that Rain meant it, too. “It’s just some cookies. I’ll make more.” She reached out and patted Cookie’s hand. “We’re okay, dear,” she promised. “It’s all okay.”
Cookie knew her mother was right. But so much had happened to them lately that, with this latest incident, it was all a little overwhelming. A part of her wondered if life here on Secret Seal Isle would always be like this. But then she remembered what Hunter had said. How much more crime could there be in a tiny little place like this? They’d already cleaned up so much of it, surely they were due for a long stretch of peace and quiet now.
“Um, Rain?” Dylan’s voice snapped Cookie back to the present as he reached past her and lifted a cookie fragment from the floor. “What kind of cookies were these, exactly?”
Rain giggled, and for the first time Cookie stopped and actually looked at the broken treats she’d been collecting. The first one was round, but a broken edge along one side indicated that it had snapped off of a larger shape—it had a smaller, raised circle of dark frosting at its center but was otherwise bare. Another one was narrower, with a rounded end and a circle at the other side. She studied the cookies, and her eyes narrowed as she mentally traced the shapes. Then she gasped.
“Mother! What are you doing?” A part of her wanted to drop the cookies back onto the floor, but she refused to be scandalized by something as simple as some obscene baked goods.
“Oh, they’re for Winter’s shop,” Rain said. “She asked me to bake something for her to sell there, and I thought this might go over well.” She chuckled. “Sweets and sex, what could go better?”
Dylan was studying the cookie he’d rescued, which matched Cookie’s second one. He lined them up, eyeing the shape. “It’s a little small, isn’t it?” he asked critically, and Cookie snorted.
“That’s what she said,” Cookie retorted before she could stop herself, then her eyes widened as she realized what she’d just said. And to whom. “I mean, not that I’d know that myself,” she stammered, feeling her face flush. “Or that I’d believe that or anything. Just—”
Two sets of chuckles stopped her. She wasn’t surprised at the fact that Rain was openly laughing, but twisting around she saw that Dylan was as well.
“It’s okay,” he promised her. “I think I’m secure enough in my masculinity to handle a dig or two. At least as long as you’re only operating on hearsay. If it was firsthand knowledge, that might be different.” He winked at her, and her whole face felt like it was on fire.
She wondered if it would be feasible to set up some kind of trapdoor right beneath her, so that she could just drop down through the floor and not have to face him again.
“Isn’t she adorable when she blushes?” Rain asked Dylan, who nodded. Then she leaned forward and hugged Cookie. “That was a good one, dear,” she whispered into Cookie’s ear. “Always keep him on his toes, yeah?”
Cookie had to laugh. Her embarrassment was washed away by a sudden wave of affection for her mother, the funny, wild, earthy, often tactless woman who nonetheless loved her dearly and had always protected her fiercely. “I will, Mom,” she promised, squeezing Rain back.
“You will what?” Dylan asked, one eyebrow raised.
“Oh, nothing,” Cookie said, and she and her mother shared a laugh. “Now help us pick up the rest of these, and stop taking them as a personal slight.” She smirked at him. “Although if you wanted to model for more realistic ones at some later point, I’m sure that could be arranged.”
He smirked right back at her. “Oh, it could, could it? Well, in that case maybe we—” A chirp from his pocket interrupted him, and he frowned, pulling his phone out to glance at it. “Huh.”
“Everything okay?” Cookie could tell at once that his mood had changed. He didn’t look angry or upset, though. More surprised and even a little sad.
“I think so,” he replied, rising to his feet. “I need to go take care of something, though.” He leaned back down to give her a quick kiss. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be back soon.” And he headed for the door, the forgotten cookie still in his hand.
“Are you going to eat that?” Rain called after him, and Dylan responded by grinning and taking a big bite.
“Not my usual sort of thing,” he admitted as he left, “but it tastes good. My compliments to the chef.”
“We may need to talk about this,” Cookie shouted at him, but he just laughed and waved. Then he was gone. She turned back to find her mother studying her, a satisfied smile on her face.
“That boy is good for you.” Rain sighed happily. “I’m glad.”
“Yeah,” Cookie agreed, aware that she was grinning and couldn’t seem to stop. “Me too.” Then she laughed, hugging her mother quickly, and went back to helping her scoop up broken body parts from their kitchen floor.
23
An hour or so later, Cookie was just toweling her hair dry after a luxuriously long, hot shower when the inn’s landline rang. She heard her mother answer it, and then a second later Rain shouted up the stairs, “Cookie, it’s for you!”
Since they had only the one phone down in the
front hall, Cookie frowned, shrugged on her shirt, and buttoning it as she went, hurried downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. Rain had left the phone receiver sitting on the table, and she scooped it up, trying not to breathe too heavily as she answered, “Yes?”
“Deputy James?” an unfamiliar voice asked. “This is Commander Pierce, U.S. Coast Guard. Sorry to bother you, but your name was on the bottom of this APB for a Brad Werner?”
“That’s right,” Cookie answered quickly. Hunter must have given her name on the form, which made sense since she was the local contact, and if the search took a while, he’d be back in Philly before anything happened. Still, if this commander was already calling her… “Did you find him?”
Her caller chuckled. “Oh, yes, ma’am. Bit of a story there, actually. We’re headed toward you now and can be there in a couple hours. You want him on the island or in Hancock?”
“Hancock,” Cookie answered immediately. “I’ll meet you on the dock. Thank you, Commander.” She hung up and grabbed her boots from the hall closet. “Mom, I’m heading out for a bit!” she shouted, causing Rain’s head to pop up in the kitchen doorway.
“Everything okay?” her mother asked, and Cookie grinned at her.
“You know,” she answered, “I think everything’s going to be just fine.”
Ice-cold wind stung Cookie’s cheeks as she stood waiting on the Hancock dock for the Coast Guard cutter that was pulling up. She’d just barely made it onto the ferry on time, but fortunately Captain Bob had spotted her running down the pier and had waited for her. The advantage of being a local, she supposed. She’d gotten over to Hancock with about ten minutes to spare, and had opted for pacing the sheriff department’s dedicated pier rather than heading to the station first. Since Commander Pierce had beaten his estimate by eight minutes, she was glad she’d waited.
“Deputy James?” a man called out from the boat’s prow as it docked. “I’m Commander Pierce.” He fit his voice, tall and lean with a weather-beaten face and sharp gray eyes, but the grin he offered her made him look practically boyish. “Believe I’ve got something here for you.” He hauled forward a man who’d been slumped on a bench beside him, an orange-haired man whose hands were zip tied behind his back. “Hello, Brad,” Cookie said. She recognized him at once from the morning he’d grabbed Scarlett at the inn. “Nice to see you again.” He didn’t say anything in reply, just glared at her. Which only made her chuckle.
“How’d you find him?” she asked Pierce as he walked his prisoner down off the boat and onto the pier toward Cookie. “We thought he’d be long gone by now.”
“Probably would’ve been,” the Coast Guard commander agreed. “Except apparently his fancy speedboat ran out of gas maybe fifty miles before he got to open ocean. Left him high and dry.” He chuckled. “Luckily for our friend here, a fisherman happened along, saw his distress, and offered to give him a ride back to shore.”
Cookie tilted her head. “So someone saw him when he got back and called it in?” she asked, but she already knew that couldn’t be right. They’d have called her, not the Coast Guard.
Sure enough, Pierce shook his head. “Not exactly.” He shook Brad lightly, like a parent scolding a wayward child. “Seems your boy wasn’t too happy with that idea and wanted to gas up his boat and continue on his way instead. Fisherman said no, he had to get back to his nets and traps, best he could do was a quick ride in. So Brad pulled a gun on him.”
Thinking about the crusty old salts who fished this region, Cookie smiled. “I’m guessing that didn’t turn out too well for him.”
“Evidently not,” the commander agreed. “Next thing I knew, I got a call from a fisherman asking me to come get some trash off his fishing boat. When I got there, I found this guy”—he shook Brad again—“tied to the railing. I asked how that happened, especially since the fisherman handed me this one’s pistol, and just got a shrug in reply.”
“He had a freaking bazooka, that’s what happened,” Brad burst out, apparently too incensed to stay quiet any longer. “Thing would’ve taken me and half the deck out, but he didn’t care. Said he’d rather go down with his boat then let me hijack him. Crazy old coot!”
Cookie looked at Pierce, who just shrugged. “I saw no sign of a bazooka, or any other illegal weaponry,” he said, enunciating each word crisply. “All I observed was a law-abiding citizen aiding in capturing a wanted fugitive.” He grinned and winked at her.
Cookie grinned back. Pierce was clearly an old hand at dealing with the local characters, and she appreciated that. “Well, thank you for bringing this to me,” she told him formally, reaching out and grabbing Brad by the shoulder. “I officially take custody of this fugitive and release you from any responsibility for guarding him from this point forward.” She offered him her hand. “Thanks, Commander. This is a huge weight off my mind.”
“My pleasure, ma’am,” he replied, accepting the handshake. “Happy to be of service.” He saluted, then turned and hopped back onto the cutter. “You need anything else, you let us know, you hear?” He waved as the boat began to reverse away from the dock.
“Will do,” she shouted and returned the wave as the Coast Guard vessel pulled away. Then she turned toward her newly acquired prisoner and grinned at him.
“Brad,” she told him sweetly, though judging by the way he flinched her anger came through loud and clear. “We’ve got a nice little cell all ready for you, and all the rest of your crew are just waiting for you to join them.” She checked to be sure his bonds were good and tight then marched him ahead of her down the pier and toward the sheriff’s station, where Hunter and Scarlett were waiting.
“Well, that went well,” Scarlett declared as the three of them pulled up in front of the inn. Sitting in the back seat of Hunter’s rented Mustang, Cookie had to agree.
“Advantages of a small town, I guess,” Hunter offered, his tone conciliatory. “You can get stuff done a lot faster than in the big city, sometimes.”
After Scarlett had given her statement, and Brad and his crew had refused to make a statement, the local prosecutor filed charges and the men had been arraigned. All five of them were charged with kidnapping, attempted murder, embezzlement, and a whole string of other crimes. They were safely locked up while they awaited trial.
Everyone expected the crew was going to go to prison for a long, long time.
“I feel,” Scarlett added as they hopped out of Hunter’s Mustang, “like I just got rid of a big ball of stress I didn’t even realize I was carrying.” She shook her head. “It all happened so fast, I’m not even sure it’s sunk in yet, really.”
“It will,” Cookie assured her best friend, giving her a quick one-armed hug as they headed for the front porch. “The stack of evidence against them is piling up like crazy. It’s really an open and shut case. In fact, I’d be surprised if they didn’t take a plea deal. Either way, they won’t be free for a long, long time.”
“Charlie’s right,” Hunter agreed. “They’d better get used to wearing orange.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a half hug. “You did well answering all those questions, Scar.”
“Thanks,” she said as she pulled away and nudged Cookie. “Looks like something else is going well, too,” she teased, inclining her head toward the porch swing and the figure already seated there.
“Hey!” Cookie called, brightening at the sight of Dylan.
Smiling at her but not rising from his seat, Dylan said, “Rain told me you were on your way back, so I thought I’d just sit out here and wait.”
“Well, it’s a nice way to come home,” she assured him, bounding up the stairs and practically throwing herself onto the swing beside him. She twisted around to give him a quick kiss, mindful of their audience, and heard Scarlett chuckle.
“You kids have fun,” her best friend suggested in a wicked voice as she turned and hurried inside.
But Hunter lingered.
“I just want to say,” he started, stridi
ng toward the swing, “that it was good working with you.” He held out his hand, and Dylan rose to take it. “I know you and I didn’t always see eye to eye,” Hunter continued, “but you’re a good man.”
“Thanks,” Dylan replied, shaking with him. “Same to you. And I want you to know that I totally respect the history you share with Cookie, and I’d never get in the way of your friendship.”
Hunter nodded gravely. “I’d tell you to take good care of her,” he said with his trademark smirk, “but I know she can take care of herself. And I already know you’ll be good to her.” He flashed a quick scowl. “Or I’ll be back.”
Dylan nodded. “Fair enough.”
They both stepped back, and Cookie sighed happily at the sight of her two favorite men finally burying the hatchet. Maybe they weren’t quite friends, but they clearly respected each other, and that was enough.
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Hunter said, turning toward the front door. “But I don’t know how you can want to sit out here in this cold, anyway.” He shook his head. “You locals are crazy.”
Once he was gone, Dylan settled back onto the swing and put his arm around Cookie. “You okay?” he asked.
“I’m good,” she replied, and she meant it. “You?” She pressed her hand to his cheek. “You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders.” Now that she was up close, she noticed his expression was unusually somber.
He sighed. “That phone call I got earlier? It was from Lester. He wanted me to come see him.”
Cookie didn’t say anything. She just waited for him to continue.
“He doesn’t know what’s going to happen to him now,” Dylan went on after a second, staring down at his hand, which Cookie had taken in her own. “He’s already confessed to Fleet’s death, after all. And he said he’s ready to go to prison or whatever the judge decides for his punishment.”
“I doubt it’ll come to that,” Cookie assured him. “It was an accident. I think he’ll probably just get house arrest and maybe some community service, like Stone did.”
