Returning Tides

by Radclyffe

  Synopsis

  A devastating hurricane brings insurance investigator Ashley Walker back to Provincetown, the last place she wants to be. Not only must she deal with the dangerous consequences of the natural disaster, she has to fight her soul-shattering need for the woman she left behind.

  While Reese Conlon and Tory King deal with the challenges of a community in turmoil, a new threat emerges that proves to be even more deadly than the ravaging storm. A silent killer stalks the night, drawing ever closer to the one woman he believes to be his. Soon, no woman is safe, including Tory.

  The sixth in the Lambda Literary Award-winning Provincetown Tales.

  Returning Tides

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  eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.

  eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.

  Returning Tides

  © 2009 By Radclyffe. All Rights Reserved.

  ISBN 13: 978-1-60282-247-4

  This Electronic Book is published by

  Bold Strokes Books, Inc.,

  P.O. Box 249

  Valley Falls, New York 12185

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First Edition: November 2009

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.

  Credits

  Editors: Ruth Sternglantz and Stacia Seaman

  Production Design: Stacia Seaman

  Cover Art: Barb Kiwak (www.kiwak.com)

  Cover Design By Sheri (GraphicArtist2020@hotmail.com)

  By the Author

  Romances

  Innocent Hearts

  Love’s Melody Lost

  Love’s Tender Warriors

  Tomorrow’s Promise

  Love’s Masquerade

  shadowland

  Fated Love

  Turn Back Time

  Promising Hearts

  When Dreams Tremble

  The Lonely Hearts Club

  Night Call

  Secrets in the Stone

  The Provincetown Tales

  Safe Harbor

  Beyond the Breakwater

  Distant Shores, Silent Thunder

  Storms of Change

  Winds of Fortune

  Honor Series

  Above All, Honor

  Honor Bound

  Love & Honor

  Honor Guards

  Honor Reclaimed

  Honor Under Siege

  Word of Honor

  Justice Series

  A Matter of Trust (prequel)

  Shield of Justice

  In Pursuit of Justice

  Justice in the Shadows

  Justice Served

  Justice For All

  Erotic Interludes: Change of Pace

  (A Short Story Collection)

  Radical Encounters

  (A Erotic Short Story Collection)

  Stacia Seaman and Radclyffe, eds.

  Erotic Interludes 2: Stolen Moments

  Erotic Interludes 3: Lessons in Love

  Erotic Interludes 4: Extreme Passions

  Erotic Interludes 5: Road Games

  Romantic Interludes 1: Discovery

  Acknowledgments

  Writing about a beloved place is an unparalleled pleasure. The characters in this series never live and breathe for me more than they do when I am actually in Provincetown, walking the narrow streets, catching glimpses of sailboats in the harbor, and feeling the hot sun reflected off the sweeping dunes. I am ever so grateful to all the readers who give me a reason to continue to write these stories. Deepest thanks.

  Thanks also to first readers Connie, Eva, Jenny, Paula, and Tina; to editors Ruth Sternglantz and Stacia Seaman and the proofreaders who work so tirelessly making me look good; to artist Barb Kiwak for translating my half-described vision into the perfect cover painting; and to Sheri for a brilliant cover design. Deepest gratitude.

  And to Lee, for always being the final destination. Amo te.

  Radclyffe 2009

  Dedication

  For Lee

  On Every Shore

  The two figures on the deck were easily visible by the light of the three-quarter moon. From his spot on the deserted, storm-ravaged beach, he could make out the way their arms entwined and their mouths met in a long, passionate kiss. He watched her press herself against the other woman, pretending she was excited. Pretending she could be satisfied by someone like that. He knew better. He knew who she really wanted, what she really needed. He imagined her rubbing her hard-nippled breasts against him with the same abandon, her pelvis rocking on him, inviting him to fuck her. He heard her moans and whimpers, felt his cock gliding through hot swollen flesh. He heard her panting, begging, crying out for release. He smelled her excitement, tasted her arousal in the back of his throat. His cock twitched at the thought of her tightening around him as she came. Begging him to fuck her the way she needed to be fucked. Screaming when she came. Screaming for him.

  With shaking hands, he raised the Rigel 2500 night binocs. The images came into focus, so large and so clear he might have been standing on the deck with them. He could make out her eyelids fluttering as the interloper kissed her and fondled her breasts, long fingers plucking at her nipples through her partly open robe. Her face contorted with pleasure and she let her head fall back, offering her throat—a sacrifice to the unworthy. Her mouth opened in a silent sigh as the other woman kissed her neck and slid a hand inside her robe to cup her breast. Her lids lifted, her expression languid and ripe as she flattened her palms against the other woman’s chest and pushed her away, laughing. She tilted her head toward the glass doors behind them. He knew what she was saying. Saying to him.

  Take me to bed. I want you to fuck me. I want you to make me scream. Make me scream. Make me scream.

  “I will, soon,” he muttered as she disappeared inside and closed the blinds. His head pounded with a mixture of rage and resentment, the pain a muted echo of the insistent throbbing of the erection that strained against his pants. He gripped himself and squeezed so hard tears blurred his vision. “I’ll give you just what you deserve. I promise.”

  Chapter One

  At the sound of a knock on her office door just after nine a.m. on a crisp, sunny September morning, Acting Sheriff Reese Conlon happily shoved aside a pile of paperwork. In the past six months she’d gone from commanding Marines on the ground in Iraq to manning a chair for twelve hours a day. Even the recent hurricane had only given her an excuse to leave the office during the height of the catastrophe—she’d been back behind her desk coordinating the cleanup efforts ever since. The transition back to civilian life after having been deployed in wartime was harder than leaving active duty the first time, five years ago. Right about now, almost any interruption was welcome.

  “Come in,” Reese said, easing her nearly six-foot frame back in the swivel chair.

  The door opened and Carter Wayne, an ex-cop turned small-town attorney, walked in. She wasn’t wearing the designer suit Reese had seen her in a few days before at Provincetown City Hall. Today she was dressed in faded blue jeans, an open-collared, rust-colored silk shirt, and brown boots the same color as her dark chestnut hair. A wide belt with a flat silver buckle circled her sleekly muscled waist. Hazel eyes met Reese’s across the desk.

  “Sheriff.”

  “Carter,” Reese said, waving to one of the two wooden fold-up chairs in front of her desk. “Have a seat.” W
hen Carter sat down, Reese pushed back from the desk and crossed one ankle over her knee. “What can I do for you?”

  “How about a job?”

  “Lawyering starting to wear on you, huh?”

  Carter smiled. “I seem to recall you’ve been there yourself. Didn’t you do a stint as a JAG in the Corps?”

  “A short one. I still can’t quite remember what made me think I’d rather practice law than drag drunk recruits back to base on a Saturday night,” Reese said with a shake of her head. “Of course, military policing is different than civilian law enforcement. An MP has a fair amount of leeway to interpret the rules and regs. We go by the book here, even when it’s less expedient.”

  Reese watched Carter’s eyes as she spoke, but didn’t expect to see anything in them. Carter Wayne was an experienced undercover state police officer, at least she had been until her involvement with the daughter of a reputed mob boss cost Carter her career. Carter had come close to abandoning her duty while undercover investigating Boston crime boss Alfonse Pareto. She’d fallen in love with Pareto’s daughter, Rica Grechi, and run afoul of the FBI. Reese understood risking everything for the woman she loved. There was nothing she wouldn’t do, nothing she wouldn’t sacrifice, to protect Tory or their daughter. But she couldn’t have an officer serve under her who she couldn’t trust.

  “I served twelve years, five of them undercover. If I told you I never bent the rules, you wouldn’t believe me,” Carter said, meeting Reese’s deep blue eyes squarely. She’d expected Conlon to lay her past on the line. Carter had spent her entire life working with men and women who believed that the distinction between right and wrong was clear, and who were willing to risk their lives in the name of justice. She’d been one of them, although the years she’d spent undercover working drug and organized crime cases had dulled the blacks and whites to shades of gray more and more often recently. She’d never met anyone with a stronger code of ethics or greater sense of duty and responsibility than Reese Conlon. She half expected Reese to tell her she didn’t measure up, and maybe by Reese’s standards, she didn’t. But she’d been a good cop, was a good cop. “You can trust me to hold the line. You have my word.”

  “What I want,” Reese said, “is your promise that if anything comes up that might make you choose between honoring the badge and protecting your family, you tell me.”

  Carter stiffened. “Rica has nothing to do with this.”

  “Rica has everything to do with it. We both know who she is, and just because her father’s kept a low profile and stayed out of her life for the past six months doesn’t mean he’s going to continue.”

  “I won’t let him drag her back into his world,” Carter said. “And I won’t let him contaminate this one.”

  “And if he tries?”

  Carter set her jaw, knowing the answer would determine Reese’s decision. “If Rica were physically threatened, I’d do anything I had to do to protect her. Short of that, I’d deal with problems through channels.”

  “Meaning advise me,” Reese said flatly.

  “Right.” Carter sat forward. “Look, we live here. This is our community too. I want to do my part, and that isn’t filing paperwork for a living.”

  “Tell me about it.” Reese looked at her desk and winced. Carter laughed. “The hurricane has chewed this place up, and we’ve got more work than we can handle, and will have for half a year or more. I can use you.”

  Carter let out a breath. “Good. I’m ready to work.”

  Reese nodded. “There’s a bunch of paperwork—in your case, all of it a formality. Fill it out, and I’ll push it through.” She riffled through a stack of papers and pulled out the duty roster, giving it a quick look. “You’ll have the midnight-to-eight shift for the rest of the week. Starting tonight.”

  “Riding graveyard.” Carter grinned ruefully. “Always great to be the rookie.”

  “We both know you’re not, but—”

  Carter held up a hand. “Hey, I get it. I’m the new kid on the block. I don’t have a problem with that.”

  Reese stood and extended her hand across the desk. “Then welcome aboard, Officer Wayne.”

  Once Carter left to fill out the necessary forms in the front office, Reese went back to sorting through the incident reports from the previous shift, most of which were the ordinary run-of-the-mill occurrences common in any community—traffic accidents, drunk and disorderlies, assault and batteries, domestic complaints, thefts. The bulk of the work facing her department resulted from the hurricane that had devastated the entire Cape a week before. In its wake, the storm had left washed-out roads, untold property damage, injured and displaced civilians, and dozens of reports of thefts and suspicious fires, all of which needed to be investigated. Most of the Provincetown residents who had evacuated were just trickling back into town. As the community repopulated, Reese expected to receive more reports of vandalism and theft.

  She rubbed her eyes, her headache firmly in place even though it was only midmorning. She hadn’t slept much in the ten days leading up to and following the storm, and although she was resting better than she had been immediately after her return from Iraq, she was still dreaming. Still remembering. When she felt the edges of her consciousness start to darken and a tightness settle in her chest, she reached for the phone.

  “East End Health Clinic,” a melodious male voice answered.

  “Is she free?” Reese asked.

  “Is she ever?” Randy, the clinic’s receptionist, responded with a dramatic sigh.

  “Two minutes.”

  “I’ll be timing you.”

  Reese listened to the silence for a few seconds, and then the voice she’d been waiting to hear came on the line.

  “Hello, darling,” Dr. Tory King said. “This is a nice surprise.”

  “How’s your day going?” Reese asked.

  “The town may still be half empty, but we’ve got a full schedule. How about you?”

  “I’m drowning in paper.” Tory laughed, and Reese pictured her leaning against the front of her desk, the phone tucked between her shoulder and her ear, signing off on charts while they talked. She’d be wearing pressed jeans and a cotton shirt under her white lab coat. Her wavy, shoulder-length auburn hair would be loose, her sparkling eyes shifting between blue and green with her mood. Listening to her, remembering waking up beside her that morning, Reese’s disquiet along with the band of tension around her chest eased. She took a deep breath and let it out, feeling the memories of death and horror slide away.

  “What else is going on?” Tory asked gently.

  “I just hired Carter Wayne.”

  “Good. You can use the help, and Carter is a pro.”

  “Agreed. Did you hear from Kate? Are they on their way back?” Reese was thankful for more reasons than she could count that she’d reconnected with her mother after years of estrangement, and that they lived in the same town now. Kate and her partner Jean were not only family and wonderful friends, they provided childcare for Reese and Tory’s one-year-old daughter Reggie.

  “Apparently the extended family isn’t done spoiling Reggie quite yet. They’re leaving tomorrow and will be back midday.”

  “Good. I miss her,” Reese said. “Do you think she misses us?”

  “I think she would, if she weren’t with Kate and Jean. But she spends as much time with them as she does with us, so she feels safe and secure. I’m certain she’ll be very glad to see us.”

  “Same here. Well, I should let you go, I promised Randy—”

  “Are you okay?”

  Reese sighed, embarrassed that she had disrupted Tory’s always busy schedule because she couldn’t deal with her own ghosts. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Not at all, sweetheart. But you don’t usually call me in the middle of the day.”

  “I’m okay. I just needed to hear your voice.” And she knew if she shut Tory out the way she had done right after she’d returned, they’d both suffer. She’d promised she would try
to reach out when she needed help, even though it went against her every instinct.

  “I love you,” Tory said. “I’m done at seven. Dinner?”

  “I’ll give it my best shot.”

  Tory chuckled. “You’re an expert marksman, Reese. I consider that a sure thing.”

  *

  “So what do you think that’s all about?” Officer Allie Tremont whispered to her partner, Bri Parker.

  “Huh?”

  Allie was struck again how much Bri looked like a younger, slimmer version of Reese—thick, coal black hair cut long in the front and short around the ears, indigo eyes, and a break-your-heart smile. Aware that Bri was staring at her with a confused expression, Allie tilted her head slightly and Bri followed her gaze. “Check it out.”

  Carter Wayne leaned against the waist-high counter that separated the work area, where Bri’s desk and three others were pushed together, from the real heart of the department—the communications center presided over for the past twenty-five years by Gladys Martin, a civilian aide. Gladys screened incoming calls, relayed dispatch orders and information, and pretty much controlled everything else that kept the department running smoothly. Carter, a dozen years older and thirty pounds of muscle heavier than Bri, looked relaxed and casually self-confident as she rested an elbow on the counter and filled out forms. Bri knew as much of her story as anyone, but she didn’t really know her. Carter was a lot like Reese—a seasoned cop, about the same age, and they’d both reached the top by being tough, and by being the best. Carter was Reese’s equal in a way that Bri hoped to be one day. Secretly, she was a little bit jealous of Carter, even though she knew that was crazy. She couldn’t help the way she felt.