by R. T. Wolfe
They came toward the front door first thing. They weren't touching. She noticed him almost immediately. He pushed away and made his way to them.
"Babe." He refused to be intimidated by a six-foot-two cop. Maybe six-foot-three. "I need to talk to you."
"Hello to you, too, boss."
Dane turned his eyes to Osborne, then back to Zoe.
"Would you like some privacy?" Osborne asked.
Dane and Zoe answered in tandem. He saying, "Yes," and she, "No."
"You can say whatever you have to say in front of Matt," she added and stuck her arm in his.
"I don't like this." It wasn't the way he planned to start.
"There are a half-dozen bars on the island then, Dane. Pick one."
Osborne butted in, "I don't think that's what he meant."
Dane took her hand and pulled her away from Osborne, whispering in her ear. "I don't think he's right for you."
"How is that any of your business?" she asked, raising her voice.
There wasn't another person alive who could make him tongue-tied. Damned woman. "Let me start over."
She pulled her arm from him and turned away.
"Please."
The plea made her pull her chin back.
"I know this is bad timing, but I want you... I mean, I'm interested in you. I want to see you. Date you. You know what I mean."
"We've talked about this already."
"No we haven't." He looked to Osborne who was much too calm about the conversation. "We've joked, we've flirted." He put up a finger as she opened her mouth to protest. "We've flirted. I'm serious, now. I don't want you to see this guy." He looked straight at Osborne this time and said, "No offense."
"None taken. I sort of got this when you showed up in her living room."
Confusing dude. Regardless, he tried to lower his voice. "I know you've had a hard couple of years. You're not as weak as you think you are. You swindled me out of load of cash—"
"—you offered—"
"I'm not finished. You sold your business. It was understandable, but you didn't quit. You're still giving tours. So what if you're not diving with groups? Yet. You've poured yourself into the island's turtle conservation."
"I'm going to go on in and get a beer," Osborne interrupted, but by that time neither of them paid much attention.
A tear spilled over her wonderful cheeks.
"You miss your brother. But you don't sit in the house you paid off from the sale of Sun Trips. You work to find answers. You're the most beautiful, smart, sassy woman I know and, I want to date you."
Her shoulders fell as the tears dropped freely, now, breaking his heart into a million pieces. "I'm sorry. Never mind. I didn't mean to—"
But she grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him down to her. Her lips were warm and desperate. His heart reacted long before his head. He dove in, braiding his hands in all of her auburn hair. It was thick and soft. Her lips were moist and firm. Parting them, he found the taste of her was like opening a deeply hidden shipwreck to find the best treasure of his life. Her arms wrapped around his sides, digging into the muscles in his back as she rotated against his Jeep and yanked him against her.
One of her knees lifted and she propped her boot against a tire, twining her warm legs with his and pressing her female shape into him. Her lips moved and their tongues meshed. It was so much like their dance, intensely sensual and needy. Small sounds came from deep in her throat that, for the first time in his life, made his knees weak. Zoe Clearwater. Goddess of the sea. In his arms. He would never let go.
"Oh gross. Really?"
They came up for air as if they'd run a marathon. Darting their eyes to the direction of the voice, he saw it was Raine. Of course.
"Great timing, Clearwater." He could spit. "What are you doing here?"
"Willow's meeting me. You?"
"Willow?" Zoe asked, still a little breathless as she looked him in the eye.
He smiled and added for Raine's sake, "Yeah, Zoe's date is inside. We'll be there in a minute."
"Get a room or come in. Your choice." She shrugged before adding another, "gross."
"This can't work," Zoe said flatly.
"Yes, it can."
She shook her head. "You're impossible."
A smile spread across his face.
"Oh, and the kiss? It wasn't nice."
Why did he know that was a compliment?
Chapter 10
Dane ached to toss Zoe over his shoulder and drag her off to the nearest cave. Except she had a date. He pulled at the back of her shirt before they got all the way in to Willow's bar. It was crowded, but he spotted Raine sitting alone at a table, drinking from a bottle of Heineken and checking her phone.
Willow's bar was a one-of-a-kind. Other than the no-dancing, it was Dane's pick as his place to kick back. Maybe just not when Osborne sat at the bar downing what looked like a whiskey and coke. She named it Luciana's since it was a near replica of the type of ship Luciana Bezan's Spaniard lover used when he sailed to pick up his Cuban Luciana. As a professional treasure hunter who dove his share of ships, Dane had to hand it to her. Not many patrons would respect the accuracy of the detail.
A few dozen tightly-fitted tables scattered around the long wooden bar. Zoe's brother helped Willow create the ship-cabin booths along the wall and weathered-wood floor. Planks lined the walls with oversized portholes serving as the windows. Thick, braided ropes dangled from the ceiling and worn metal deck tools hung on the walls.
It was an island bar, which meant no food along with the no-dancing. Unless you count bowls of in-the-shell peanuts as food, or wiggling by the jukebox as dancing. Willow was working on both. Since Liam had the summer off of his teaching job, she'd hired him to work on the addition when he wasn't working for Sun Trips.
Zoe must have sensed his reason for tugging at her shirt, because she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. "It's okay. Matt and I have an understanding."
"What are you talking about?"
"When we kissed, we decided we just want to be friends. He's a good guy."
Dane took her arm and spun her all the way around this time. "You kissed Osborne?"
She should be embarrassed or at least act like she was sorry. Instead she just shrugged.
"Tonight?"
Another shrug topped with a grin.
"With the mouth that just kissed me?"
Her shoulders shook as she laughed. Damned woman.
"Do you need to brush your teeth?" she asked. "I have some gum if you'd like."
"Just keep walking."
They headed for the bar. It didn't seem like Raine noticed them since she didn't take her eyes from her phone, but she must've, because she got up and started toward them.
"I'm sorry we took so long," Zoe told Osborne as if nothing happened. "Miller Lite, please, Paula. We've got a good crowd tonight."
"Paula?" Osborne asked. "No Luciana?"
"No," Zoe answered him like they were new best friends. "Willow is the owner. Paula is head bartender. Luciana is a local legend. She was the daughter of a one of the many poor Cuban families who came into money from farming. Legend has it that a rich Spaniard fell in love with her. She had a dowry equipped with solid gold toilet basins, pure silver candlesticks and jewel-encrusted weapons. He was on his way back to Mexico with her and her dowry when his disapproving family attacked and sunk the ship."
Osborne glanced around as she explained. "Wow. Cheers to Willow." He drank the last sip from his mixed drink. "Did you get everything straightened out?" Osborne asked, gesturing his head toward the parking lot door as if Dane wasn't standing right next to them.
There it was. The red started at her neck and made it all the way through her cheeks. It gave Dane a sudden need to beat his chest.
"Raine," Zoe nearly yelled as she changed the subject. "This is Matt, the detective I was telling you about."
She told Raine about him? His silverback gorilla era was frigging short-lived.
"The cop." Raine said as a flat statement.
"Don't mind her," Zoe said. "She doesn't get along so well with law enforcement."
"We have police on Ibis Island?" Raine asked. "I'll be damned."
"It's true," Zoe defended her. "They don't show themselves around many places other than city board meetings."
"That reminds me," Dane said to Raine. "Show Me's hasn't changed their lights since the last time we were there." He contemplated how to get around the second part. "Now, don't go flying off the handle, but one of his waitresses made it sound as if he likes his lights the way they are, because they draw the turtle hatchlings to the customers so they can handle them close and personal."
"That bastard." She slammed her empty bottle on the bar making Osborne jump. What a wimp.
"I knew it," Raine growled. "I've got a mind to take a BB gun to each one of his precious little code violation lights."
"Except that you just said all that in front of a cop." Dane metaphorically patted himself on the back for saying so since he might not mind watching Raine cuffed and booked, if only for one night.
"I'm almost afraid to ask," Osborne cowered. "But why is it bad to handle the turtle hatchlings?"
Raine's expression softened at his interest. "They are an endangered species and protected by federal and state law. You need to be trained and licensed to handle sea turtles, young or old. Only one in a thousand make it to sexual maturity. They don't need to be taking field trips to Show Me's on their way to the water. Your date, here, isn't even trained to handle the turtles."
Raine saw Dane and Zoe lip-locked in the parking lot. She said that last part to spite him. And after he just ratted out the Show Me's owner for her. Some gratitude.
"If it's a code violation, you could call the code violation officer," Osborne suggested.
"I'm not sure our code violation officer has ever issued a code violation," Zoe added.
"Not one?"
Raine looked him dead on. "Not a single damned freaking one."
The door opened and Willow breezed in. She did a walk through, then asked Paula for an amaretto stone sour. "Look at all of us, here and cozy," she said overzealously. She was right; she sucked at lying.
"How do you look so fresh after running a restaurant for six hours straight?" Raine asked her.
"Yoga on the beach. Pilates, and lavender baths. Hello again, Matt."
"You two know each other?" Raine gestured between Willow and Osborne with the next beer Paula had handed her.
Willow would keep his secret even if she sucked at it. "They ate at Beachfront tonight. Grilled grouper," she pointed to Zoe, "And fried grouper," pointing to Osborne. "Both excellent choices."
Dane definitely did not need to know what they ordered.
"Any news on the skull?" Willow asked.
Three sets of female Clearwater eyes all drilled Osborne. Dane almost felt sorry for the dude, but then no.
Osborne picked up the glass of water he'd changed to. "Sure. The St. Petersburg Times should have it out on Monday in the police report section. Forensics concluded the skull belonged to a male, approximately twenty-eight to thirty-two years old. From the looks of the crustaceans on it and the knife, the sea scrubs think it's been down there for at least a year."
Dane's eyes darted to Zoe first. Her brows dropped low as she stared at Osborne, but healthy color stayed in her face. He moved his glance to her sisters. Willow stared at the bar.
"Am I the only one awake, here?" Raine asked.
Zoe laughed a half-breath, but her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Are you serious, Raine?"
Raine sighed and closed her eyes. "It is a stretch." She shook her head. "But what if?"
The tension in Zoe's shoulders might not be noticed by someone like Osborne, but Dane noticed. He didn't care who saw or where any relationship between he and Zoe stood, there was no stopping his arms from wrapping around from the back of her to her waist. As natural as the sea, she took his arms and wrapped them tighter like she was standing in a cool December breeze.
Osborne cleared his throat, then rubbed the back of his neck. What he needed to do was get the hell out of their personal business. "I, uh, meant to ask you about that tonight." He was looking straight at Zoe, now, and made Dane's jaws clench and release.
"It might, uh, not hurt to check it out."
This did make Zoe shiver, every piece of her. "As if what, Matt? The skull is my brother?"
"Zoe." Raine's voice was uncharacteristically soft. She placed the tips of her fingers on Zoe's forearm.
Zoe jerked away from her touch. Dane held on tighter. "You think Seth could have somehow been involved in..." Her voice shook with her body. "Have been in a situation where... could have been..." She couldn't say the word. None of them could.
Ignoring Zoe, Willow whispered almost inaudibly to Osborne. "We have hair clippings. Hair clippings and baby teeth."
* * *
Zoe stood for a long time at the beach access. It was the one with easy parking at the end of Pine Street. Tall Jessamine lined one side and thick sea oats the other. When she was ready, she took off her sandals and set them beside the bench at the opening. Flags and iPad in hand, she began the methodical work of her morning patrol. It was dark, but tracks from any three hundred pound female sea turtle would be easy to spot in the light colored sand.
Her beach-patrol days were Mondays, Fridays, and Saturdays. She was a 'walker.'
Her business had taken too much of her time to become a coordinator like Willow and certainly not the Primary Permit Holder. That position had been practically handmade for Raine.
When Zoe owned Sun Trips Touring, she volunteered to walk this section of the beach on Mondays only. It was the slowest day for tourists. As time went on, volunteers had to quit, one to take care of an ill mother and another to join Seth in the great waters beyond.
Seth. The waiting would kill her.
It didn't seem to be killing her mother, though. She'd been like a rock taking the news, the possibilities, giving up the hair and tooth from their sacred spots in his mementos. She didn't demand to see the photo of the skull. No hysterics. She stood like a mother, reassuring the children she still had left. "Seth has moved on. He doesn't live in any skull," she'd said through a smile as the steady stream of tears ran down her face.
The sand massaged the bottom of Zoe's feet as she walked alone the beating waves breaking the monotony.
It had occurred to Zoe how much her mother and Willow were the rocks. Everyone thought Raine was the strong one, but it wasn't true. Raine was organized, assertive, and an essential part of their family and this island. But her mother and Willow, they had an inner peace that produced a strength beyond will alone and certainly not found in Zoe.
She felt her shoulders fall as she strolled, checking for tracks as she went. She was like them... the volunteers. So many came to the island for just this, the sea turtles. The depressed, alcohol addicted, those who suffered PTSD, hermits. They came and generally conquered their ball and chain. The elderly section three coordinator showed up after losing everything; his wife, his job, his retirement. He had been a recluse, barely surviving on his social security check before he signed up for Ibis Island Turtle Conservation. Now, he was a new man. Never missed his mornings, and took all the tests to become a section coordinator.
Her feet stopped, a sudden wave of sadness rushing over her. Taking a deep breath of sea air, she closed her eyes.
No. She was projecting. Dane's cobalt blue eyes stared at her from behind her eyelids. They were intense yet full of warmth. He believed in her. 'You didn't quit,' he'd said. 'You keep looking for answers.'
Her chin lifted. She turned to face the breeze head on, letting the air blow her hair behind her. She opened her eyes with a jolt. Turning her head, she saw him. His sandy hair whipped around his face. Khaki shorts, a Sun Trips polo, and bare feet. She smiled, wondering at which beach access he left his shoes.
He watched her but didn't
move. Dane Corbin. Traveler. Playboy. Friend. Confidant. She trusted him. He'd earned it, she had to admit. She also had to acknowledge their chemistry. No, it wasn't nice. It sent the world around her spinning like she was in the center of a hurricane. The churning water around her was her life and somehow they had become the calm in the center.
Her feet moved toward him before her head had a chance to tell them not to. "It's five a.m.," she said just loud enough for him to hear over the wind.
"I knew you'd be out here. Beautiful morning." He wasn't looking at the scenery.
"You don't need to be here."
"You said we should be discreet. This is discreet," he said, lifting his arms to the empty beach.
"It is." She laced her fingers in his hand and they turned south. His were thick and strong from years of working on boats and searching for buried treasure. The connection was natural, too natural.
She spotted tracks ahead. "Look." She pointed and caught when his gaze landed on the row of adult turtle tracks making a perpendicular line from the water's edge inland.
"Loggerhead," she said when they got closer.
"Why?"
"I think of loggerhead tracks as swimming freestyle over the sand. A green's tracks look more like a butterfly stroke. See?" With Dane's history of college swimming, she knew the comparison wouldn't be lost on him. She pointed out the deep alternating grooves left in the sand from the girl's huge flippers.
The tracks led to a spot inland. She turned around, judged where the turtle stopped and turned before scooting back to the water.
"This is fun." He ran his hand down the length of her arm. "Do we get out the stakes and mark it?"
She shook her head. "False crawl. Look, there's no bowl, no round shaped divot or evidence of sand thrown to cover a nest. She must have changed her mind." Zoe needed to record it anyway. She stuck a flag at the end of the tracks for the coordinator. Taking her iPad, she filled out the data form Raine would need to report to the state.
