Returning Tides

by Radclyffe

  “Sorry,” Allie said sharply. “I thought you said come in.”

  “I did.” Galvanized by the frigid look in Allie’s eyes, Ash backed toward the bedroom. “I thought you were someone else.”

  “So I gathered.” Allie looked away, desperately wanting to flee, but not wanting to reveal her discomfort to Ash. She did not want Ash Walker to have the slightest inkling that she still had any power to affect her at all. She definitely didn’t want to betray the way her heart had tripped over itself when she’d first seen Ash step into the room naked. Even exhausted and ten pounds too thin, she was gorgeous, just as gorgeous as she had been the last time Allie had touched her. Long limbed and sleekly muscled, firm oval breasts tipped by small light brown nipples, concave abdomen with a shallow, round navel that she used to love to dip her tongue into. God, she didn’t want to think about that. Not now. Not ever ever again. Resurrecting her anger, she said tightly, “Since you’re expecting company, I won’t keep you.”

  “Just wait, Allie,” Ash said. “No one’s coming. It was just a misunderstanding.”

  “Yeah, that happens a lot with you.”

  “Just…wait. Jesus.” Ash bolted back to the bedroom, grabbed a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and hastily dressed. The entire time, she listened for the sound of the door opening and closing. She couldn’t believe how much Allie hated her. She half expected Allie to be gone, but when she returned to the living area, Allie was still there, just inside the door. The rush of relief was so strong and so unexpected, she swayed with a surge of dizziness.

  “You all right?” Allie asked almost begrudgingly.

  Embarrassed, Ash waved away Allie’s concern. “Yeah. Fine.”

  “When’s the last time you ate?”

  Ash blinked. “What?”

  “You fucking look like you’re going to fall over, Walker.” Allie stomped to the counter and jerked an apple out of the welcome basket the innkeepers had left. Pivoting sharply, she flung it across the room. “Eat that.”

  “Christ, Allie,” Ash exclaimed, catching the apple just before it hit her in the face. “Would you…” She took a breath and forced herself to speak softly. “Thanks.”

  Allie turned her back and looked out the door toward the plant-filled flagstone courtyard.

  “What are you doing here?” Ash knew better than to think Allie had come to see her for any personal reason.

  “Apparently Reese thinks you need an escort.”

  “What!” Ash swallowed the chunk of apple she was chewing so quickly she almost choked on it. Coughing, she cleared her throat. “Reese told me she wanted a list of places I plan to check out. And that she’d have someone provide records for me. You didn’t need to come over here in person.”

  “Believe me, it wasn’t my idea.” Allie looked back over her shoulder. “Reese ordered me to get together with you. I’m supposed to be your liaison, as in work with you on behalf of the department.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “For once, we agree.”

  Ash tossed the apple in the trash can and jammed her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “Look, let me get settled and I’ll stop by the station and talk to Reese again. I’ll leave you a list of the records I need you to pull. You won’t even have to see me.”

  For just a second, Allie thought she heard a whisper of sadness in Ash’s voice and she felt a quick pain around her heart. Just as quickly, she squashed the feeling. Ashley Walker was nothing to her now, and she wasn’t going to waste one single emotion on her. Ash could work herself into the ground for all she cared. Because she didn’t care.

  “Leave your list this afternoon,” Allie said, her hand on the doorknob. “I’d like nothing better than to never see you again, but I have orders, and until Reese changes her mind and tells me differently, I’m at least going to meet with you every day to go over your schedule. What time do you want to start tomorrow?”

  “Allie,” Ash said softly. “I’ll talk to Reese today. I’ll tell her—”

  “Don’t do me any favors,” Allie said harshly. “You’ll only make it worse.”

  Ash pushed her hand through her hair. “Okay. Okay. I’ll see you at eight tomorrow, then.”

  “Fine.” Allie pulled open the door.

  “Allie,” Ash called. “I’m sorry about this.”

  Allie turned back, her face a careful mask. “It’s too late to be sorry. It’s too late for anything at all.”

  Chapter Four

  He did not fear being discovered.

  Most of the houses on Bradford west of Atlantic showed signs of storm damage—blown-out windows, missing sections of roof, debris-filled yards, and downed trees. Many of the residents had not returned. Scattered sections of Commercial Street remained flooded and closed to anything except official vehicles. Power had yet to be restored to some residential enclaves, and streetlights were out all over town. No one paid any attention to a lone man dressed in generic work clothes moving purposefully down the street. Or into a yard. Or through an open garage or unhinged back door.

  He sat on the edge of her bed, ran his hand over the depression in her pillow where her face had pressed while she slept. He leaned over and took a deep breath. Her scent was primal female, light and airy with the teasing undercurrent of lush fertility. He slid his hand between the sheets and imagined her body splayed open, hungry for a touch. His touch.

  For a moment, he contemplated pulling back the covers and lying naked where her flesh had been, absorbing the warmth she’d left behind. Too risky. Too soon. The hunt was far too enjoyable to rush. Sighing, he rose, adjusted the heaviness in his pants, and moved to the closet. Her clothes shared space with those of the pretender. He barely resisted the urge to yank the carefully pressed shirts and trousers from the hangers and fling them to the floor. But he wasn’t ready to announce himself yet. He fingered the silky sleeve of a red shirt, lifted it to his mouth, ran it over his lips. The silk became her hair twining through his fingers, and closing his eyes, he saw his hand twisting in her lustrous locks—yanking her head back, exposing her vulnerable throat to his mouth, his lips, his teeth. He’d bite her, mark her, make sure the world understood she was his.

  But not yet. Not while the anticipation excited him, not while the fantasies of what was to come still satisfied him. Shuddering, he pulled the shirt from the hanger, wadded it up, and pushed it inside his clothes. He smoothed out the silk over his bare abdomen, carefully sliding one sleeve down the front of his pants where he could feel it like slick fingers stroking him every time he moved.

  Not yet. But soon.

  *

  Tory stuck her head into the examining room where her associate, Nita Burgoyne, was finishing with their last patient. Even after a twelve-hour day, Nita looked fresh and elegant in a sage shirt, slightly deeper green skirt, and low heels. Her coffee-colored skin glowed and her dark eyes sparkled with happiness. Tory smiled inwardly at how good love looked on her. “I’m going to head home, Nita. I’ve got the beeper if anything comes up.”

  Nita finished wrapping an Ace bandage around Joey Torres’s injured hand. “Go ahead. Joey and I are going to wait until Deo comes to pick us up.” She gave the handsome dark-haired youth a stern glance. “Because Joey isn’t ready to drive yet, right, Joey?”

  “Yes ma’am,” he said with an utterly charming grin. “Not until you say.”

  “How is Deo?” Tory asked. Deo Camara, Nita’s lover and Joey’s cousin, had been injured while trying to salvage a pier and boathouse from one of the many fires that had started the night of the hurricane.

  “She says she’s fine,” Nita said. “Of course, getting her to admit that anything hurts is a major undertaking.”

  Tory laughed. “Now there’s a familiar story. Good night, you two. Nita, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  After gathering some files she wanted to finish at home and grabbing her cane, Tory made her way through the empty clinic, turning out lights as she went. She rarely used her cane anymore, relying
on just her light ankle splint to support her damaged leg, and sometimes not even that. But she’d been on her feet constantly for the last ten days, and her leg was swollen and partially numb. She wasn’t so proud that she’d risk falling on her ass rather than use her cane for a few days.

  She left the lights on in the hall and the reception area for Nita and Joey, and pulled open the front door. Deo was just striding up the walk from the gravel parking lot in front of the single-story health clinic Tory had opened almost ten years before. Deo could have been Joey’s twin—same dark good looks, same devilish grin, same muscular body. Until Nita, she’d broken hearts all over town. But not any longer.

  “Hi, Deo. Nita is in the back with Joey. You can go on through. We’re done with patients for the day.”

  “Thanks, Tory.” Deo hurried to hold the door as Tory maneuvered through with her briefcase and armful of files. “I’m glad I caught you. I’ll be by to take care of your deck and the damage to your doors sometime this week.”

  Tory waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure you’ve got much bigger projects to see to. How’s the recovery going?”

  Deo grimaced. “I hate to say that a storm like this is great for business, but we’ve got more work than we know what to do with. Right now, we’re just trying to put Band-Aids on places to prevent further damage. Roofs, windows, that kind of thing.”

  “Well, like I said, our house is livable, so I don’t mind waiting.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate it.” Deo sketched a salute in the air. “See you soon, then.”

  “’Night.”

  Tory piled her things on the front seat of her Jeep and drove out of the parking lot with a sigh. Almost six thirty. With any luck, Reese really would be able to get home by seven. Then they could have a quick dinner and make love. Tory smiled, thinking about having a few uninterrupted hours with Reese.

  A brilliant sunset colored the sky above the harbor with swaths of pink and orange, bleeding into purple closer to the water. Despite the devastation to the town, the natural beauty of the sky and sea, the majesty of the sweeping dunes, remained eternal. The storm had arrived so suddenly and had wrought such fierce destruction so quickly, everyone was left in shock. Tory had seen tragedy upon tragedy in her years as a physician, had suffered the loss of her own dreams more than once, and still this event had shaken her. Had made her realize how quickly life can change, how all she cherished could be lost in a matter of hours. She’d been thinking about that a lot lately.

  She pulled into the driveway beside their house in the far east end of Provincetown. They’d been lucky. A tree had come down in the front yard, narrowly missing the house, although it had smashed the front steps. Some shingles had blown off, but the roof had held and the upper floors were dry. The major damage was on the harbor side of the house—the panes in the sliding glass doors on the rear deck had finally cracked under the onslaught of flying debris, and something heavy, or a number of heavy somethings, had smashed the door frame and demolished part of the railing. Still, their house was habitable. A great many people couldn’t say the same thing.

  She slowly climbed the stairs to the side door and, once inside, dumped her briefcase and files on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living-dining room and propped her cane against one of the bar stools. As she walked toward the damaged double glass doors leading out to the rear deck, hoping to catch a last glimpse of the sunset, she thought idly about what she’d make for supper. Something quick and easy. She didn’t want to waste a minute of her alone time with Reese.

  Frowning, she noticed the deck doors were open an inch or two. She couldn’t think why, unless Reese had been home during the day. That seemed unlikely, and even then, they hadn’t been using the doors for the last few days because they were worried that the glass panes might fall out. Maybe the wind…

  Somewhere overhead, a thud. Not a random tree branch falling, not a timber shifting. A door closing.

  Tory spun around, her gaze sweeping the first floor. Nothing seemed out of place. The house was completely silent. Then she saw the trail of sand on the hardwood floor just inside the deck doors that shouldn’t be open. She yanked her cell phone off her waistband as she grabbed the handle on the slider and pulled. The door caught in the warped frame, screeching like an animal in pain. Ignoring a surge of panic, she shoved harder, but the force just deformed the bent track further and she couldn’t get the slider to open far enough for her to squeeze through. Through the thundering of her heart, she heard footsteps pounding above her. Pushing Reese’s number on speed dial, she raced across the room toward the outside door.

  *

  Reese tossed her hat onto the dashboard and settled behind the wheel with a satisfied sigh. She’d actually managed to reduce the stack of paperwork on her desk by several inches. Even more importantly, she’d convinced the town council to allocate emergency funds so she could approve overtime for her officers and schedule the work that had to be done. And after several strategic phone calls to collect on a few favors, she’d gotten the official go-ahead to hire Carter Wayne. Not bad for a day’s work, even if she did have a headache. As soon as she was home with Tory, that would be history.

  Her phone rang as she turned left onto Bradford, and she muttered a curse under her breath. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d barely been out of the station house before she had to turn around and go back. When she glanced at the readout, she relaxed and pressed On.

  “Hi, love,” Reese said. “You need me to—”

  “Reese! Someone’s in the house!”

  “Get out of there, Tory,” Reese snapped, jamming her foot down on the accelerator as she hit the lights and siren.

  “I…oh God…”

  “Tory? Tory!” Reese’s vision went completely blank. The road disappeared. The sky turned black—blacker than a starless night. The black of an endless void. Pain slashed through her chest and she cried out. She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe.

  “No,” she shouted, sucking in a huge breath. The road ahead shot into focus as the cruiser rocketed over the narrow, two-lane road. She jerked the mic off the dashboard and shouted for backup. Then she dropped it, leaving it to dangle by its curling black cord, as she unholstered her weapon. Twisting the wheel viciously with one hand, she careened into her driveway and slammed to a halt.

  It couldn’t have taken more than a minute for her to get home, but sometimes a minute could change a lifetime. Tory lay face down on the ground a few feet from the stairs. Time stopped for Reese. The world ground to a halt. Life as she knew it hovered on a precipice.

  “Tory!” Reese tumbled from the car, racing forward, her weapon raised, her eyes scanning the area by instinct. Nothing moved. She anticipated the flare of incendiary devices and the smell of burning flesh, braced herself for the hail of bullets, waited stoically for the agonizing pain. Nothing came. She dropped to her knees on the crushed-shell driveway, her weapon falling uselessly to the ground. “Tory. God, Tory.”

  For the first time in her life, Reese was paralyzed. In the midst of battle, with death all around her, she’d acted. Instinct, a lifetime of training, had won out over fear and suffering and horror. She’d protected, she’d defended, she’d saved lives at the risk of her own. Now she couldn’t move. She heard a car screech into the driveway behind her, dimly registered radio static and voices shouting. She couldn’t move.

  Tory moaned, rolled onto her side, and reached for her. “Reese.”

  The earth shifted back onto its axis. Reese’s mind cleared as if someone had changed the channel on a television set. Sights, sounds, smells became suddenly razor sharp. She touched Tory’s cheek. She was warm. Alive.

  “Lie still, love. You’ve got blood on your forehead.” Never taking her eyes from Tory’s face, Reese shouted, “We need an ambulance.”

  “No, we don’t,” Tory said, her throat dry and her voice scratchy. “It’s my leg. I fell down the stairs. God damn it.”

  Tory tried to sit
up and Reese gently pressed down on her shoulder. “No. Stay there until the EMTs can check you out.”

  “Reese,” Tory said urgently. “There was someone in the house. Upstairs.”

  “Did he touch you?” Reese’s guts twisted when she asked the question.

  “No. No, I think he ran away, but I’m not sure.”

  Reese looked up and met Allie Tremont’s wide eyes. Bobby Strope, a part-time officer who worked the swing shift, stood behind her, red-faced and breathing hard. “Tremont. Take Strope and clear the house.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Allie said crisply. She motioned to Strope and headed up the walk to the side door, her weapon out in front of her. She looked rock steady.

  The EMT vehicle angled off the side of the road at the head of the driveway and two techs raced toward them, each carrying a red equipment box.

  “I’m all right,” Tory told them as they knelt on either side of her. She recognized the sandy-haired man. “Dave, I’m okay. I just…it was stupid. I fell.”

  “We’ll just take a look at you, Doc,” Dave said affably while expertly wrapping a blood pressure cuff around her upper left arm. “You meet my new mate, Flynn Edwards?”

  A blonde with cornsilk gold hair and eyes as blue as the July sky grinned down at her as she grasped Tory’s wrist and took her pulse. “Dr. King. Good to meet you.”

  “BP’s one-forty over eighty-two,” Dave said.

  “Pulse is eighty-eight. Nice and strong,” Flynn reported. She flipped open her tackle box and pulled out a clean pair of gloves. After extracting a four-by-four gauze pad, she soaked it with saline and dabbed Tory’s forehead. “This is just a scratch. Probably from one of the shells when you fell.”