She nibbled on her bottom lip for a moment, considering the possibilities, before saying, “So many things could go wrong.”
“Things could go wrong no matter how you look at it. You might as well have someone nearby to lean on.”
“I’m not good at leaning on people,” she finally admitted.
John stared at her, not saying a thing. He was leaving the ball in her court, so to speak. Finally, she nodded. “I can’t make any promises. But I’ll stay tonight. If I feel as if my son is in danger, I’m out of here, though. I’ll do whatever I have to to keep him safe.”
“Like any good mother would.”
She let go of his hand. “Please don’t make me regret this.” The vulnerability in her voice startled her.
So did John. He towered over her, at least six inches above her five-foot-six-inch frame. Something about his presence took her breath away.
She hadn’t had that reaction to a man since...well, since Anthony. The breathless feelings in that relationship hadn’t lasted long. They’d disintegrated after the first couple of years of her marriage. When he’d started his little company and the secrets had begun to divide them. That’s when he’d begun to change.
She’d tried to stick by him. Tried to be the wife she thought she should be. She’d tried not to rely on her feelings and instead honor her commitment. Samantha never thought all of that would lead her here, though. That it would lead her to the point where she was in her life now.
Something unspoken passed between her and John. He felt it, too. Samantha had seen it in his eyes.
“Samantha, I—”
The door suddenly swung open. Samantha jolted back, far away from John. She hadn’t even realized that she’d leaned forward. John had obviously done the same, because he quickly straightened, at once looking rigid and uncomfortable.
They turned toward the door. Connor stood there, his eyebrows drawn together. He seemed to sense something awkward had just passed between all of them.
“Connor, are you okay, honey?” Samantha asked, grateful for the interruption. She knew she couldn’t trust anyone. The fact that she was even letting John help was a huge step forward. That was as far as it should go.
Connor nodded, his eyes sagging with sleepiness. “Just tired.”
“I’ll go sit with you inside. Maybe you can take a little nap.”
“How about if I fix some breakfast?” John offered.
“More coffee would be great.”
Too bad caffeine wouldn’t make this day—or this situation—any better.
* * *
As Samantha and Connor painted the cabins that morning, John kept busy by repairing the siding. While he worked, he tried to process everything Samantha had told him. It sounded as though she’d been running from a nightmare.
He really didn’t know why he wanted to help her like he did. He just knew he saw the fear in her eyes and everything else didn’t matter. No one should be that scared.
Now he’d proposed a plan that would sideline his work. But keeping Samantha and Connor safe was worth it. He’d learned the importance of priorities in his life and serving people trumped meeting deadlines. Human lives were more precious than making a profit. The rest would figure itself out, even if it seemed unfathomable at the moment.
Besides, his old coast guard buddy really had offered to help him, if he needed it. He thought this situation would warrant it. John was one man. He lived on an open expanse of water. He couldn’t exactly camp out in Samantha’s cabin with her and Connor.
That meant he needed more men, more sets of eyes around here. In order for everything to work out, he needed to have a plan. He needed that plan now.
“Connor, be careful not to get paint on the floor,” Samantha said. Her voice drifted out through an open window.
Samantha’s smiling face appeared out the window a moment later.
She did have paint across her cheek and in her hair. The look was more appealing than he’d like to admit. He’d already let one woman in his life down. Why had he set himself up to let down another one? Or was he searching for redemption? He didn’t know.
But he knew he had to put a lid on his attraction to Samantha. He had no room in his life for romance. He didn’t even deserve another chance.
As he hammered another piece of siding, his thoughts churned. What would Samantha think if she learned the truth about Alyssa? Would she trust him then? Probably not. That’s why it was better if he kept the details of his past to himself. No need to worry her any more than she already was.
“Mr. John?” Connor asked. He popped his head out of the window.
“Yes?” He paused, hammer in the air and nail clenched between his teeth.
Now that Connor had John’s attention, the boy moved his work area to the wall around the window. He was a good little worker. John had to give him that.
“Why’d you buy these old shacks anyway? Why not buy something new?”
“Connor!” Samantha turned to her son, her eyes wide and horrified.
“No, it’s okay.” John leaned inside, the edges of his lips curling upward. “It’s a good question. The cabins are a little run down, aren’t they?” He glanced around the building’s interior, comforting himself with the fact that a lot of progress had been made. “I guess I just realized that life was short, Connor, and that I didn’t have any time to waste.”
“What did you do before?” he asked with all the innocence of an eight-year-old who had no idea the skeletons his questions could uncover.
John spotted a piece of siding that looked loose and pulled out his hammer to nail it down. “I was in the coast guard.”
“That sounds cool.”
“It was a very cool job, but sometimes you just need a change in life.” He hit the nail a little harder than he’d intended. He hoped no one noticed.
“I wish I wouldn’t have as much change in my life.” Even from outside, John could see the boy frown.
Samantha’s gaze met John’s. He saw the pain there, saw the uncertainty as she feared she wasn’t doing what was best for her son. There were no clear-cut answers for her, but John did feel certain that she wanted to make the best decisions possible for her little family. He wished he knew her better; he wished he could speak more freely about her life. But they were only beginning to get to know each other. It wasn’t his place; in fact, he’d already probably overstepped his boundaries. But when his gut told him to take action, he listened.
He believed Samantha. He believed the story she told him. There was nothing about what she said that would indicate she was lying. Her gaze had been steady. Her story was consistent. In fact, he felt honored that she’d even shared the details about her past. He knew she didn’t talk about the specifics surrounding that part of her life.
He grabbed his toolbox and went inside. There were some baseboards he needed to replace.
Connor picked up the conversation right where he’d left off. “The coast guard sounds cool. You got to ride in boats all day, right?”
John smiled. “Yeah, something like that. Would you like to go out on my boat sometime, Connor?”
His eyes brightened. “Yeah, that sounds fun!”
“I even have a wakeboard I can pull behind the boat that you could use. That is, if it’s all right with your mom.”
“Can I, Mom? Can I?”
A smile feathered across Samantha’s face. “As long as you wear a life jacket.”
“Yes!” Connor pulled his arm back in a fist pump. “Will you still take me fishing and crabbing sometime, Mr. John?”
John’s heart warmed. He’d never considered himself a kid person. But Connor was different. The boy looked at him with a touch of admiration in his eyes. He could tell the boy wanted a father figure. John’s desire to fill that spot surprised
him.
Too bad he’d be terrible at it.
“I’ll teach you to fish,” he promised. “And crab. Maybe we’ll do that when Mr. Nate and Mrs. Kylie come. How’s that sound?”
“Perfect!” His eyes lit up. “Later, I might play kickball with some kids I met. They came from down the beach when you went grocery shopping.” He turned toward Samantha. “Is that okay, Mom?”
“As long as you stay close,” Samantha said.
Connor seemed to be fitting right in here. John wanted the boy to continue to relax, to have a normal childhood. He didn’t want his life to be like his own upbringing. Everything in the end had turned out okay. But there’d still been some really hard days.
Suddenly, a shadow filled the doorway. He wasn’t expecting anyone here. Not yet.
John stopped his hammer mid-air and braced himself for another confrontation.
NINE
Samantha gasped as the light dwindled from the room. Someone was here. In broad daylight. Had they come back to finish what they started?
“It’s Kent Adams,” the man in the doorway started. He waved a hand and his gold watch glimmered in the sunlight. “The real-estate agent.”
Samantha’s shoulders relaxed for a moment. Just the real estate agent. A real estate agent.
Right?
She had no reason to suspect he was anything more. But what was he doing here...again?
Her mind had jumped to the worst-case scenarios. This was her life. One born of paranoia and fear. It was no way to live, yet she had no idea how to change it.
John’s idea would be a start. But she still wasn’t confident that standing her ground would work. She could just be setting a death trap for herself and for her son. In reality, her decision to stay could even be putting John in danger. She hadn’t wanted to pull anyone else into the craziness called her life. But then John had somehow convinced her that all of this was a good idea.
Her mom’s words again echoed in her head. Survivor. Maybe surviving didn’t mean running. Maybe surviving meant fighting. Maybe it was time to take back control of her life.
John stood and crossed his arms. She could tell he didn’t like the real-estate agent and that he didn’t take kindly to another unexpected visit. His gaze seemed to absorb the man in a way that made his boundaries—and his displeasure—clear.
Samantha appreciated how John’s presence could fill a room. She could only imagine him from his coast guard days, taking charge of situations with his quiet, steady confidence. Something about the picture that formed in her mind caused her heart to squeeze. Why did she feel as if she knew John much better than she actually did? It had to be the escalation of events that had increased their bond more quickly than usual.
Or was it because their connection was beyond the ordinary? She wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter anyway—she didn’t trust her emotions and she wasn’t looking for a relationship. She simply wanted to survive.
“What can I do for you?” John asked.
Kent pulled off his aviator sunglasses, looking way too Hollywood glamorous for Smuggler’s Cove. “I just happened to be on the island. I wondered if you’d thought anymore about my offer?”
John shook his head. “I’m not selling. The offer is generous, but no.”
Kent frowned but his expression instantly righted, his displeasure gone and his charm reappearing. “My client is willing to up his price by twenty percent.”
John’s arms remained crossed and his gaze steady. “Flattering, but no. Why all the interest in this land now? It was abandoned for years, but then I buy it and someone else wants it, also? I’m trying to fill in the blanks here, but I just don’t understand.”
“The timing is unfortunate, I agree. My client has been searching for years for the perfect piece of real estate, and he didn’t find it until now.” He spread his hands behind him as if to display the bay and beaches in all their glory. “You’ve got a marvelous view. No one can deny that.”
“I’m afraid he’s going to have to keep looking. Sorry.” John grabbed his hammer from the floor. “In the meantime, I’ve got work to do.”
“My client doesn’t like to take no for an answer.”
John paused, his gaze icy and firm. “He’s going to have to.”
Kent stared at him another moment before giving a curt nod. “I see. I’ll let him know. You sure you won’t change your mind?”
“I think I’ve made that clear.”
“Very well, then.” He gave another nod and slid his sunglasses back on. “I’ll let you continue with your day. Good luck here.”
Samantha’s eyes met John’s. When she was sure Kent was out of earshot, she said, “Pushy, isn’t he?”
John scowled in the direction where the man had gone. “You can say that again.”
“I’m probably overthinking it, but he almost had undertones of a threat in his voice,” she whispered. “The whole ‘good luck here’? It sounded ominous.”
“I caught that, too.”
One more thing to keep her eyes on, Samantha thought. Was this Kent Adams who he claimed to be? Why did his client so desperately want this land? It didn’t make sense, and John was right to be suspicious.
But where did that leave her? Could Kent in any way be connected with the danger she’d left behind in Texas? She couldn’t make the connection, nor could she be confident that his appearance was just a coincidence.
They continued to work in silence. From the way John’s jaw clenched and relaxed only to clench again, he was probably thinking about Kent. Maybe he was thinking about the mess he’d voluntarily gotten himself involved with.
She could only pray that she was making wise choices. Protect us all, Lord. Give me wisdom. Guide me when to stay and when to run. Guard my heart.
Guard my heart? Where had that come from? No, the only thing that needed guarding was her physical self.
When they finished patching up the front room, John rocked back on his heels and wiped his forehead. “Nothing feels better than a little hard work, does it?”
Samantha smiled. “Now that you mention it, it does feel good to put in some physical labor.”
She’d been on the business side of things for a long time. But before Anthony had joined ranks with his friends, the two of them had flipped houses together. Those were some of the best days of their marriage.
John glanced at his watch. “Listen, I’ve got to go pick up my friend from the docks. You guys want to come? We can grab a bite to eat at Erma’s beforehand. She’s got the best she-crab soup around. Hands down.”
“She-crab soup? Do they have he-crab soup, too? It sounds like some new superhero cartoon,” Connor asked. He looked amused at his own joke.
Samantha chuckled. “It’s good, Connor. Rich and creamy. Maybe you should try something new.”
“I’m tired of new stuff.” Connor frowned. “I’m ready for things to stay the same.”
Samantha could read between the lines. Connor was tired of this lifestyle of always moving, of things always changing. She was, too. Somehow, his statement seemed to confirm that John’s theory was right. They should stay here. Fight instead of flight.
“They have fish and chips, too, though,” John said. “What do you say? My treat. Consider it a company bonus.”
Some warm, fresh food did sound good. Finally, she nodded. “I just need to clean up a little.”
“Meet me at my cabin in fifteen. Sound good?”
She nodded, hating the tingling of excitement that started in her stomach.
She had no time for romance, nor did she have any desire for it. So why did her heart speed at the thought of spending time with John? It made no sense.
The only person she wanted to think about right now was her son. Anyone else was not an option.
; * * *
Samantha’s gaze wandered the small restaurant. It seemed as though everyone on the island had come here for lunch. Fishermen lingered at one table. Several families were there, possibly on vacation. A group of women sat in the corner, discussing books while eating sandwiches.
Erma was a plump older woman who wore an apron and beamed when people complimented her cooking. Apparently, this place had been handed down to her from her grandfather. Broad windows stretched the back wall, giving a startling view of the bay and the docks.
The restaurant itself was on the small side. The walls were a dark brown wood paneling. Pictures of local fishermen proudly displaying their award-winning catches practically wallpapered the place. The tables were outdated with glittery veneer tops that were a direct contrast to the grungy floors and battered aqua-green plastic cushions on the chairs.
“Don’t let the appearance deceive you,” John said as she observed the place for the first time. “Places that look like dives usually have the best food.”
Samantha ordered the soup and a side salad, while Connor got the fish and chips, and John got a seafood platter with the soup as an appetizer. Chatter sounded around her, along with the clatter of silverware. The distinct smell of the sea floated into the room, along with the aroma of fried fish and salty fries.
Several people called out hello to John. Samantha peered out the window at the bright sunshine. In the distance, down by the docks, she spotted Kent Adams talking with some fishermen.
Strange. He didn’t seem like the type who’d mingle with blue-collar workers like that.
“You know any of those guys that real estate agent’s talking with?” Samantha whispered.
John stared out the window a moment before shaking his head. “I can’t say I do. They’re not all locals. This time of the year some of the fishermen hire out-of-towners to help out. I don’t know why someone like Kent Adams would be talking to them, though.”
Desperate Measures Page 9
