She sucked in a sudden breath as a man rolling ropes at the docks in the distance caught her eye. She took a step back.
“What is it?” John asked.
She pointed across the way. “That man. He attacked me in the parking lot on the night before I came here.”
John followed her gaze, his jaw hardening. “You’re sure?”
She nodded as memories rushed back. “I’d remember that tattoo anywhere.”
“Stay here.”
John charged toward the dockworker. Samantha held her breath, wondering if her nightmare would come to an end. Or, in the least, if she might finally have some answers.
* * *
John stopped in front of the dockworker, a big burly man with meaty arms and a snake tattoo slithering up his neck. He was the kind of man John would hate to meet in a dark alley. “Excuse me. I heard you were giving my friend back there a hard time.”
The man stopped rolling the rope and stared at him. “What are you talking about?” His voice was gritty and low.
“My friend said she had an unfortunate run-in with you in the parking lot of a grocery store a few days back.” John refused to break eye contact. “You roughed her up.”
He grunted. “Parking lot? Must not have been here on Smuggler’s Cove since there are no cars. I haven’t left the island in a week.” He glanced back at Samantha. No sign of recognition or guilt flashed across his face. “And I’ve never seen that woman.”
John wasn’t ready to give up that easily, though. “You sure about that?”
He nodded toward the other men around him. “Ask anyone here on the docks. We’ve been especially busy the past couple weeks. My time sheet will show all the overtime I’ve gotten.”
John tried to measure the man’s words. From all indications he was telling the truth. But some people were so good at lying that they gave no telltale signs of their deceit. “Where’d you get that tattoo?” John pointed to the man’s neck.
The man arched his shoulder back to reveal more of the intricate snake design. “A lot of us have them. We used to ride motorcycles together.”
John could read between the lines well enough. But he didn’t like the conclusions he was drawing. “A motorcycle gang?”
He shrugged and began to wrap rope into a tidy pile. His nostrils flared with every tug of the thick chord. “We didn’t exactly call ourselves that.”
“What did you call yourselves?”
“The Cobras.” The man looked down, almost as if he was ashamed. When he glanced up again, his gaze dared John to challenge him.
John had been around scarier guys before. “Are there a lot of you Cobras around?”
“We’re mostly out of Richmond. I got out a while back. Moved here. Started a new life. I may have this tattoo, but I’m not a Cobra anymore.”
“They dangerous?”
The man hesitated, paused from winding up the rope a moment. “More than I would like. I don’t know, man. I don’t want to start any trouble. That kind of life just wasn’t for me anymore. If your friend is mixed up with them, I’d caution her to stay away.”
John stepped closer. “Just one more question then. People ever hire them to do hits?”
The man’s face reddened. He glanced around, as if to make sure no one else had heard. “They didn’t hire me, I can tell you that.”
John glanced back at Samantha and saw her staring at them with her arms across her chest and her eyes wide. “Someone with a tattoo like yours almost killed my friend.”
“I wish I could help. But if I start spilling any names, I’m dead.” He swiped his finger across his throat. “My wife and kid, too. Do I make myself clear? I came here to start a new life.”
John nodded. This man wouldn’t be offering any more information. Part of John couldn’t blame him, either. He knew how dangerous motorcycle gangs could be, especially ones like the Cobras. Though he’d feigned ignorance, John had heard of them before. They were scary, and they were trouble. No one would argue that. Somehow, one of their members had gotten tied up in the plot to take Samantha’s life.
He hurried back to Samantha and filled her in. The lines at her forehead deepened. He prayed that keeping her here on the island was a good thing, the right thing. Sometimes facing your fears was the only way to have any peace in life.
He remembered learning that lesson while at the training academy for the coast guard. Some of the things the instructors put cadets through to become rescue swimmers seemed terrifying. Once they conquered them, they realized the anticipation was worse than the actual enactment.
The ferry pulled into port. A few minutes later, John had his paint, nails and caulk.
If only the cabins were his biggest concern at the moment.
* * *
The rest of the day and night passed uneventfully.
They’d worked on the cabins and gone to bed, never letting their guard down.
Sunday, Samantha and John went to church together. Then John took her and Connor out on his boat and showed them around Smuggler’s Cove. He pointed out the largest house on the island—rumored to be owned by some government big shot who took his boat everywhere and never socialized otherwise. Then there was the canoe launch and the Uppards—the abandoned land mass that had once been inhabited.
Samantha soaked it all in.
She also didn’t miss the way Connor looked at John with admiration and...hunger?...in his eyes. Her son wanted a male role model in his life, she realized. No, make that he needed a male role model. That was the one thing Samantha couldn’t give him.
Monday came and went. Still, nothing happened. Samantha felt both relieved and paranoid. Why were there all of those attacks, just for the perpetrator to become silent? What sense did that make? Was everything calm because they were planning a bigger one?
She tried to relax, but couldn’t.
At least they’d gotten a lot of work done on the cabins. That was good because Nate and Kylie had decided to keep their plans and visit.
Their boat had just pulled up to the pier thirty minutes before, and Samantha was busy preparing lunch for everyone.
She tried to look relaxed as she pulled out some bread and lunch meat. Not much of a lunch for a chef, but she hoped it would do. Besides, they were John’s guests and she was just trying to help out.
Everyone else was on the porch, and Connor was running around with two-year-old Zander. The sounds outside were all so carefree, such a contrast to the chaos she was feeling inside.
Samantha nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the front door open. She turned and saw Kylie there.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” Her friend joined her at the kitchen counter. “What can I do to help?”
“You just sit. Get off your feet for a while.” She nodded toward a chair behind her. Her pretty, petite friend had long brown hair that came halfway down her back and a smile that covered her whole face.
She thought back on how she’d first met her. Samantha had stopped by the restaurant when she’d run from Georgia after seeing a suspicious figure there and becoming frightened. There was a Room Available sign in the window. She’d inquired about it, and Kylie had offered her the apartment over the restaurant. They’d talked here and there, but never about anything too personal.
“I had a strange feeling you might have come here,” Kylie said. “We made a point not to ask John.”
“I heard about the FBI agent.” Samantha sliced a tomato, trying to keep her voice casual.
“You don’t have to tell me anything.” She stood at the counter and began tearing lettuce leaves. “I have total faith in you.”
Her words nearly brought tears to Samantha’s eyes, but she pulled them back. “Thank you, Kylie. Really, it’s just better if you don’t know. For more than one reason.�
� She nodded toward the table. “And really, you should sit.”
“That’s what Nate keeps saying, too. I’m really not that fragile. And, when I am, believe me, I’ll let people know.” She rubbed her belly and grinned. “This is a beautiful place. I thought John was crazy for doing this at first, but seeing these cabins now, all I see is potential.”
“It’s a great place,” Samantha agreed. “I think it will be very successful.”
“And look at you. You’re like a regular handywoman, like one of those you’d see on TV, on one of those home improvement shows.”
“You’re kind. What they don’t show you on TV is the sweat or how exhausted you are at the end of the day. That’s actually the best part, though.”
“Connor seems happy. He’s running around out there, looking as if he’s right at home.”
Samantha smiled. “He is. He fought being here at first, but I really think he’s come to love it. He’s totally bonded with Rusty. He plays kickball as often as possible with some of the kids from town.”
“He seems to get along pretty well with John, also. I saw him following him around out there.”
Samantha’s smile faded. “He thinks John can do no wrong.”
Kylie’s gaze softened. “I guess you don’t agree?”
“In my experience, everyone lets you down.”
“Don’t lose your faith in people, Samantha. I know it’s hard, but there are some worth trusting.” Kylie finally did sit down and rub her belly again. She glanced around the room. “Anyway, how’s it going here?”
Samantha forced a nod, unsure how to answer. “Okay.”
“Look, you don’t have to tell me anything, but if you ever need to talk, I just wanted to let you know that I’m here. I’ve been through some things myself, so I know what it’s like to be scared and alone.”
Samantha paused from slicing vegetables. Kylie’s announcement surprised her. “Really?”
Kylie nodded. “Believe it or not, I had this crazy stalker after me. I was sent here to hide out while they tried to catch the guy. I jumped at everything and everybody.”
Surprise washed through Samantha. “What happened?”
“They finally caught him and I put all of it behind me.”
She paused and turned from the counter to face Kylie. “Did you ever just want to keep running?”
“Every day. But eventually, trouble will catch up with you. You might as well be prepared when it does.” She paused and smiled softly, compassionately. “I had a happy ending. I met Nate and life couldn’t be better. The process is hard, but you just have to keep your eyes on the final outcome.”
Samantha crossed her arms over her chest and stared out the window. In the distance, she could see John and her heart thumped an extra beat. “I’m afraid I’m going to get someone else killed.”
“John knows what he’s doing. He was one of the coast guard’s best...until the fire. That’s been crippling him.” She frowned, then glanced around the cabin again. “But I think this place is good for him. It’s going to help restore his soul.”
“The fire?” Her curiosity spiked.
Kylie paused. “He didn’t tell you about Alyssa?”
Samantha shook her head, knowing one of those missing puzzle pieces concerning John’s life was close enough to snap in place.
Kylie nibbled on her lip for a moment. “Give him time. It’s his story to share, not mine. But once you hear, you’ll understand him a lot better. He pushed away from a lot of people afterward, and I think he still blames himself. No one else does, though.”
Samantha stored the information away in the back of her mind. What exactly was John’s story? She guessed she’d have to wait before finding out, which surprisingly disappointed her. She told herself she didn’t care, but she knew she did.
Just then John, Nate, and the kids flooded inside.
A vision of a summer picnic with friends and family filled her thoughts. Warmth spread through her, but she quickly pushed the images away. For the first time in months, her heart was gravitating toward hope. She couldn’t afford to get her hopes up now, though. There was still too much at stake, too much on the line.
She didn’t know when one of Billy’s men would strike next. She had to be careful, always watching and on guard.
She stared at the sandwiches in front of her. Even during something that should be as simple and enjoyable as a picnic, she found herself on guard.
How much longer could she live like this?
She didn’t know. And that’s what scared her the most.
* * *
Samantha collected leftover paper plates and shoved them into a garbage bag. They’d laid out blankets on the shore and taken their time eating, laughing, and telling stories. They’d played Frisbee, built sandcastles and chased waves.
The picnic was actually fun. Almost too fun. For a moment, and just a moment, something had felt cozy, almost like a family outing. Samantha was quick to remind herself that it wasn’t.
John was her boss. Nate and Kylie were his friends. Samantha was merely passing through. The only person in this group that she saw as part of her future was Connor.
“Nate and I will go get the boats ready,” John said.
“I’ll keep cleaning up,” Samantha offered.
John paused. “Thanks for everything you’re doing.”
The way John said the words made Samantha’s heart speed for a moment. They had been low. His voice seemed too familiar, too comfortable, as though the two of them were connected.
She cleared her throat and stepped back. “It’s no problem. It’s the least I can do for you and your friends.” She blanched at her words. She’d chosen them on purpose to remind herself of the situation. She had to keep distance here. She had to remember that she was an outsider, and that she’d always be an outsider.
Even if John’s plan worked and she escaped Billy’s revenge. Even if she was finally able to feel safe again...the past year seemed to have changed the way she was programmed. Sharing her life with anyone else besides Connor wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.
“Samantha...” John shifted.
She grabbed a clump of her hair and pulled it away from her face where the breeze pushed it. “Yes?”
His gaze locked with hers. “I—”
Before he could finish, Nate yelled for him at the pier.
John gave a half nod and stepped back. “I’ve gotta run. We’ll talk later?”
She shrugged noncommittally. “Sure.”
They were planning on going for a boat ride. Nate, Kylie, and Zander would be in one boat. John, Samantha, and Connor in another. They would ride around for a while before Nate and his family returned to the mainland and John and his crew returned to the island.
“While you guys get the boat ready, I’m going to go put the suntan lotion on Zander,” Kylie said.
“Good idea,” Samantha added. “I’ll follow you in a moment.”
“Can I go with Kylie to the cabin, too?” Connor asked.
Samantha glanced at Kylie, who nodded, before giving him permission. “Get your sunglasses and a dry towel. I’ll be right there.”
She remained on the shore, picking up the various buckets and shovels that had been left there. In the distance, John and Nate worked on the boats, preparing them for the ride.
Samantha paused for a moment and scanned the shoreline. Everything had been so pleasant for the past few days. Almost too pleasant.
Was the problem hers? Was she always waiting for the other shoe to drop?
No, her experiences had simply conditioned her. She wasn’t naive enough to think Billy would leave her alone. For some reason he’d just taken a short break.
Her gut clenched. She hoped it wasn’t because he was planning their fina
l shebang. All of his small ways of trying to off her hadn’t worked. What would he do next?
She grabbed the beach toys and started across the beach.
That’s when something hit the sand beside her feet.
She tensed. Her heart slowed, but for only a moment, before beginning to race again. Her gaze darted throughout the area.
Where had that sound come from? What was it?
That’s when something else hit the sand. Instinctively, she knew what it was. A bullet.
Someone was shooting at her.
THIRTEEN
John looked up as he primed the boat and saw Samantha’s face go slack. She stood frozen on the sand, her gaze fastened in the distance. Her hand clutched her chest and her entire body seemed to tense.
He straightened, his body again going on alert. Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.
A glare in the distance caught his gaze. The sun had hit someone’s glasses, he realized. As his focus narrowed, he saw a man holding a gun.
He sprang into action. “Get down!”
Even as he yelled the words, he jumped out of the boat and started across the pier. His muscles strained as he tried to reach Samantha in time. She was an open target standing there on the sand.
Finally, something clicked with her. She ducked and ran for cover. Something else hit the sand, only a few feet away from her.
John reached Samantha and used his body to shield her. He pulled her across the shore, well aware that moving could help keep them alive, that it would make it harder for the gunman to get a shot.
Out here, there was nothing to hide behind. The closest shelter would be the cabins, but that would mean running toward the shooter.
Instead, he led Samantha into the water and pushed her behind a piling of the pier.
He could feel her heaving air into her lungs as he pressed against her. Her heart beat erratically against his arm. A tremble rushed through her.
“Are you okay?” He stood ramrod straight, all instincts on alert. He braced his arms on either side of Samantha, desperate to keep her safe.
A bullet splintered the wood piling behind them, and he gulped. Whoever was behind this shooting wasn’t giving up easily.
Desperate Measures Page 13
