Deep Waters (The Security Specialists)

by Jessica R. Patch

“Looks like he checked your car first and when that was a bust, he came inside. Got bold. He might think you’re carrying what he’s after in your purse.”

  “Well, I’m not!” Anger coupled with her fear. “The one time we didn’t take the rental car.” She threw her head back and groaned. “We’ve got to find this guy, Shep. He’s turning my life upside down.”

  “I need to call Wilder.”

  No, what he needed to do was wrap her up in his arms and reassure her that this was going to end soon, without her having to ask for the physical contact. But he wouldn’t. She closed her burning eyes. She’d just have to ask. Again. “Shep. I need more physical contact.”

  He licked his lips, hesitated only a second and then he drew her into his arms. Not like the first time. Not like on the dance floor. Like she belonged. Fit. No awkwardness. No pretending.

  And here in his arms, safety abounded. Hope bloomed that everything would be okay. Here she was sheltered in utter security. And it’s where she wanted to stay the rest of the night.

  Except a killer was coming for her.

  SEVEN

  Shep stood behind the sliding glass doors, watching Caley sit on her patio with a cup of hot tea. How much more of this could she take? She was strong but everyone had a breaking point. He tapped Wilder’s name on his phone and waited for it to ring, dreading the conversation to come.

  Wilder picked up on the fourth ring. “It’s late.” His tone said it all. Why was he calling? Why had Shep failed?

  “We had a run-in tonight, but Caley’s safe.” He briefed Wilder on the club action and how things went down and that Caley had insisted on going. “She’s braver than you give her credit for.”

  Silence.

  “She’s holding her own.” For now. “She’s a Flynn through and through.”

  More silence.

  What else could he say? “I’m sorry, bro.”

  “She’s been hurt more than once. What if he’d kidnapped her from the club?” Simmering accusation was about to boil over through his words.

  Shep fisted his hand. “I had her locked in. Glanced away. Turned back and saw she was gone. I immediately went after her. He wouldn’t have gotten her.”

  “But he disappeared. Again.”

  “Roger that.”

  Wilder heaved a breath over the line. “Sounds like you’re distracted.”

  “By what?” Anger bubbled up on his tongue. “This ain’t vacation.”

  “Don’t play dumb, Shepherd. Get your head in the game.”

  Wilder was too smart for Shep’s vague attempt to act ignorant. “I am not distracted by the asset.” By Caley. See, he could talk about her as a mission.

  “She is not an asset. She’s my baby sister and I expect you to keep her safe. I don’t want another single scratch on her.”

  Neither did Shep. “Roger. That.” He ground his teeth. He was distracted by the very person he was there to protect and it was going to get them both in trouble.

  No more. He’d get his head back in the game like Wilder said. He was right anyway.

  From the moment Caley walked into the kitchen, looking and smelling like a delicious dessert, to the way she melded against him on the dance floor, his brain had turned to mush and his heart had been palpitating. And to top it off she’d seemed to read his misery. Being in that club. All the mess going on there. That had been his past and he’d felt total shame, but she had taken his hand, and it chased that shame away. The compassion in her Irish-blue eyes, the encouragement in her sunshiny smile.

  He couldn’t put words to the way his heart took off on a roller-coaster ride, the way his blood heated and how much he desired to protect her. He’d never felt this way before.

  And he couldn’t explore what these feelings might be. He had a job to do.

  “Call Tom. See if he has any idea what this Purple Turtle drink might indicate. Remember that six months we did in Bangkok?” Wilder asked.

  Did he ever. Wilder had kept him from making some serious mistakes. Seen him at his wildest. But he wasn’t that man anymore. He would never be that man again. Is that why Wilder kept at him about Caley... Wait... It dawned on him where Wilder was going with the conversation. They’d sold turtle eggs at the clubs, mixed them with ecstasy and slurped them down like oysters. They were considered an aphrodisiac. And they went for a pretty penny.

  “Leo Fines might be poaching eggs.”

  His irritation tempered. “They might be selling them in the back room.”

  “I’ll ask Tom about that too.” Poaching sea turtle eggs was illegal. But it would be easy for someone like Leo to get his hands on them. Sell them for a nice profit. “Have you looked into Leo Fines’s financials?”

  “No, but I’ll get Wheezer on it. Otherwise what we’ve found on Leo Fines is clean. Not even a parking ticket.”

  “See if there have been any larger deposits made. If he’s selling turtle eggs or turtles, there might be a record if we follow the money.”

  “Or if he’s selling both. I’ll make the call,” Wilder said.

  “He might be getting some of these interns to do his dirty work. Maybe Mary Beth. I haven’t mentioned that to Caley yet. I hate to break her heart again. She’s had solid faith in the doctor and these kids.”

  “I wish Caley had better judgment. She adores that man and he’s obviously shady and in on some criminal activity. I just wish she’d come home. Get a job in Atlanta,” he huffed.

  “She’s a grown woman and doing really well here. Made a good life. Bad stuff happens. Doesn’t matter where you work or live. It’s just life. We don’t get to escape it.”

  Silence.

  “Do your job. And need I remind you that sniffing around my sister in any way that’s other than sisterly isn’t in your job description, Shep? She’s already been hurt enough.”

  So Wilder trusted him to protect Caley, but he didn’t trust him with Caley’s heart. Didn’t want to bring him into the fold of the Flynn family except from the outside where he’d always been anyway. Why would he? All he’d seen were Shep’s mess ups. And Shep wasn’t sure he wouldn’t hurt Caley. He didn’t have a clue about love, commitment. But the more he was near her, the more he wanted to know, to learn, to maybe...maybe try.

  “I’m not going to make any moves on your sister.” He didn’t want to make moves. He wanted... He wasn’t sure what he wanted. He was confused and frustrated. And scared out of his gourd.

  “When I have news, I’ll call you.” The line went dead.

  Shep had overstepped. But Caley had the right to be an independent woman without Wilder ordering her around or judging her choices. She’d made honorable ones. But Shepherd cut Wilder a break. He’d already lost one sister. Hovering over Caley was instinct, brotherly love and devotion.

  Shepherd couldn’t fault him, and he was well acquainted with Wilder’s intense devotion to the people and things he was passionate about. He slid the glass door open and stepped out on the patio, taking a matching green Adirondack chair next to Caley.

  Wrapped in a quilt, only her head and hands poking out, she reminded him of the turtles she loved so much.

  “Breeze is a bit nippy,” she said, and she sipped her tea.

  The full moon cast a soft glow across her face. The whoosh of the waves relaxed his tense muscles; the taste of salt from the ocean dusted his lips.

  He stretched out his legs. “Feels good to me.”

  Caley stared out at the dark waters. It wasn’t hard to see why she loved living here. Soothing. Peaceful. If someone wasn’t trying to kill her.

  “My brother mad?”

  “Yep.” He locked his hands together on the back of his neck and looked up at the stars. The moonlight.

  “You’re a man of many words. You make me dizzy with all of them.” She snickered and sipped the tea, a plume of steam rising, the smell of something flowery reaching him. He’d never been a talker. Never had much to say. And to be honest, he’d been ordered to stay quiet.

  His v
oice or opinion had never mattered.

  Glancing at Caley, her eyes held something he’d never seen before. Genuine interest.

  “What do you want to know?” What if she asked a tough question? What if he scared her with his answers? Why did he even offer the chance for her to get a glimpse of him?

  The answer scratched at the surface of his heart. He refused to itch.

  Caley lowered her mug from her lips. “When did you place your faith in God?”

  Not a tough question.

  “In Afghanistan. Chaplain kept at me. Not in a fire-breathing-down-my-throat kind of way. Just...friendly-like. Casual conversation.” He pawed his face. “After a mission went belly-up and several of my buddies died, I went through a dark time. Kinda like I was out in deep waters and unable to get to shore. Drowning.”

  Caley stopped sipping her tea, remained quiet. But she was listening. Urging him with a look to keep going.

  “I remembered Chap saying Jesus was a lifeline. And I needed one. Had needed one for a long time, I guess. So I prayed for the first time in my life and let Jesus rescue my soul from the depths.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, Shepherd.”

  “Chap gave me a Bible. And I stayed away from anything that resembled my old ways. I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I can’t pretend I never did them.” He pitched forward, elbows resting on his knees, his hands on his forehead. But he wished desperately that he could. Wished he had a clean past, could be good enough for someone like Caley.

  Caley set the teacup on the table in between them and scooted her chair close enough to take his hands. “Shepherd, we all have things in our life we aren’t proud of.”

  “Even you?” He doubted that Caley had ever done anything regrettable.

  “Of course. I’m not proud for running away after Meghan died. My family grieved and they needed me to grieve with them, and I took a job here.”

  “But you love this job. This place.”

  “I do. But I don’t love the way I left. I disappointed my family. Especially Wilder.”

  Shepherd stared at Caley’s delicate fingers wrapped around his. “Wilder cares about you.”

  Caley nodded. “You can’t let your past hold you back. You know that, right?”

  She had a happy childhood. Didn’t have a track record for making mistakes like he did. How many times could one person mess up before God called it quits? Sent him back into foster care?

  “I know it shouldn’t.” But it did. “And I’m working to get it right more often. To be good.”

  Caley frowned. “Shepherd Lightman, you’re a good man. Where is this coming from?”

  He shrugged but didn’t pull his hands away from hers. The way she held them made him feel safe. Secure.

  This conversation was killing him. His heart beat uncontrollably, ached.

  “Shepherd. Talk to me,” she whispered.

  He licked his lips. Took a deep breath. “When I did everything right. Kept my mouth shut and my head down... When I was good, I got to stick around longer with a family—hope for adoption. The minute I messed up I got sent back into the system. And one day I just decided it wasn’t worth it anymore. So I stopped trying to be good. And I became really, really bad.”

  Tears welled in Caley’s eyes. Why would she cry for him? “Shepherd.” That one word. The way she said his name. More emotion behind it than he’d ever heard from anyone. He tightened his grip on her hands and choked back the lump growing in his throat.

  Caley moved even closer, her knees brushing his. She ran her hand through his hair and rested it on his cheek. His walls crumbled faster than he could rebuild them.

  The way she looked at him shifted everything inside.

  The way she touched him. Like he belonged to her. He’d never belonged to anyone.

  His gaze locked on hers. He couldn’t tear it away, but then her eyes darkened and he recognized her intent. A shot of panic jolted him.

  Shepherd couldn’t give Caley what she deserved. And he hadn’t intended for his words to make her feel sorry for him, pity him. He didn’t want a pity kiss. If that was what was fueling her. And if it wasn’t, well, as much as he wanted to feel her lips against his, it would mean something special to Caley. Something intimate that would require a commitment to come.

  It slayed him, but he couldn’t give her that. Wouldn’t risk her heart. Couldn’t risk his.

  As she inched toward him, he slowly shook his head. “I’m not the guy for you, Caley. Don’t go there,” he whispered.

  She paused, blinked away the hurt; her bottom lip trembled.

  Hurt he’d evoked. Like he’d known he would at some point.

  Proof he wasn’t worthy of this incredible woman.

  Wilder had been right. She’d been hurt enough, and now Shep could add his name to the list.

  Caley slid back into her chair, tugged the quilt tighter against her.

  Shepherd felt the chill in his bones too.

  She closed her eyes. “You don’t have to stay out here, Shepherd,” she murmured, a hiccup in her voice.

  “Gonna anyway.” He may not be able to offer his heart. But he could offer his protection and he’d keep vigil, make sure she was safe.

  Someone knew where she lived.

  Someone who wasn’t done yet.

  * * *

  Caley’s eyes opened. She’d dozed off after Shepherd had rejected her.

  He was right. He wasn’t the guy for her. She had almost kissed the very man she’d promised herself she’d never fall for.

  Blinking back the hurt, she stared at the moon. Round. Glorious. Romantic.

  Waves crashed along the shore. They never failed to lull her to sleep, but the crick in her neck revealed she’d been in the patio chair awhile. Next to her, Shep dozed. His breath came soft and rhythmically. Like the waves.

  What had she been thinking going in to kiss him? She wasn’t that bold. His raw honesty had moved her, touched her in deep places. He was tough. Intelligent. Rock solid. And vulnerable, tender and unsure of himself. That insecure little boy who desperately wanted to be loved still resided inside him. And for an instant, Caley had wanted to reach in and pull that little boy out, hug him, and also she wanted to kiss the man that boy had grown into. To kiss away his fear, to connect on an intimate level. To offer him...what? What could she offer him?

  Love?

  She didn’t have that to give. Not to a soldier. Not to a man in his line of work.

  She slipped from the quilt, the cup of tea long gone cold. Standing over Shep she studied his scar. Was it from war? Childhood? Who had hurt him? A need to protect him stirred within her. Even after he’d wounded her with his words. Truthful words. She respected that he’d stopped her. Thankful in a sense, because if she kissed Shepherd Lightman, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to let him go. She was afraid her heart would slip over the edge, never to be found again.

  But she’d ached to comfort him. Help him heal.

  And he didn’t want her.

  Danger ran in his blood. A jarhead through and through. He’d never give that up for her. Never move here to the quiet beach life. And she would never ask him to.

  So that was that.

  Emptiness hit her full force.

  She needed the cool waters on her feet. Needed to clear the fog from her head. Toes sinking into the sand, she padded toward the sea.

  God, show Shepherd how much You love him. How much You care. As far as the ocean is wide. And show me too.

  She squatted and held her hand out as the tide came in, rushing over her fingers before it was pulled away. That’s what would happen if she let herself love Shepherd. Collapsing in the wet sand, Caley drew up her knees and locked her arms around them. Sand and sea blanketing her, then leaving her cold.

  She’d lost too many people she’d loved. To violence. When she left Atlanta, she believed she was running away from all forms of danger. Tucking herself inside a shell, like her turtles. But danger had come, poking its hazardous
stick at her. She couldn’t run again. Couldn’t run fast enough if she did want to.

  A presence sent pricks along Caley’s neck.

  She whipped around.

  A man cloaked in darkness lunged and cut her shriek off with his hands. “Where is it?” he snapped. He shoved her head into the tidewaters. Salty sea invaded her nose, burning. Sand scraped against her cheek.

  Where is what?

  Reaching for his arms to release herself, she struggled, but he plunged her under the water again. A mouthful of ocean raced down her throat, choking her. She coughed and sputtered as he brought her back up again. Her hair matted to her face, masking her eyes.

  “Tell me where the GoPro is. I know you have it!”

  GoPro.

  GoPro!

  Mary Beth used her underwater video camera all the time. At the park. Used it on dives. She must have some kind of footage or photos incriminating someone.

  “I don’t...have...it!” Her head submerged again.

  She kicked and flopped like a fish, flailing in hopes of knocking him off balance, gaining some oxygen. Her lungs burned, the taste of salt gagging her. Adrenaline shot through her veins and she grabbed at his face.

  Ski mask.

  If she could pull it off...

  “Don’t. Lie. To me!”

  A crack fired and her attacker wailed, grabbing his shoulder and giving Caley time to kick him into the water. He fell into the tide and she clawed her way to the shore, gulping in air between coughs.

  Raising her head, she spied Shep flying toward her, gun glinting in the full moonlight.

  The attacker leaped from the water and sprinted across the beach, clutching his shoulder.

  Shep had clipped him.

  Saved her.

  Thank You, God.

  Instead of giving chase to the attacker, he kept running toward her. For her. Sliding to his knees next to her, he tucked his gun in his waistband, grabbed her shoulders and raised her up, shoving a mass of hair from her face. “Caley. Talk to me. Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head, the coughing keeping her from speaking.

  “Can you stand?” She managed a weak nod and he helped her to her wobbly feet, continued to hold her up, inspecting her for wounds.