Red Surf: Leah Ryan Thrillers (The Leah Ryan Thrillers Book 4)

by Tracy Sharp

  Chris touched my arm, pulled me gently back. “Don’t look, Leah.”

  I looked at his face. His kind eyes.

  “There are people who get a kick out of watching seals be eaten by sharks. I know you’re not one of them. It’ll bother you for a long time.”

  The very thought of the sharks devouring the cute seals who had just greeted us was almost too much to bear, never mind seeing it actually happen. “Ugh.”

  “I know. But they have to eat to survive. Seals are fatty. They’re a favorite of sharks.” He pointed out in the other direction. “Look, there’s another whale.”

  I looked at the water in time to see another huge spray blast out of the ocean. “What a gorgeous and terrifying thing.”

  “The ocean?”

  “Yeah. It’s amazing, isn’t it?”

  Chris slid a hand over my back, caressing. “It’s magnificent.”

  ***

  The end of the dinner cruise came too quickly. My head was buzzed from two glasses of white wine, and I felt pretty good. The sky was indigo and night was gathering around Bass Bay.

  “A walk on the beach?” Chris asked me. “The night is still young.”

  I didn’t want the night to end just yet. “Sure.”

  There were several bonfires along the beach, but no one was swimming. The discovery of two dead girls in as many days was enough to keep people momentarily cautious. There also weren’t as many people enjoying the festivities as there had been on Thursday night. Nothing like dead bodies on the beach to put a damper on a vacation.

  “It’s a perfect night,” I said, listening to the gentle roll of the waves. The sea breeze was warm, and the smell of saltwater and wood smoke hung in the air.

  “It is.” Chris’s hand was a gentle and welcome warmth on my lower back.

  The moment was perfect. So of course, I brought up the least romantic thing possible. “Not to be a buzz kill, but do you mind if I ask how the investigation is going?”

  “Not at all. We didn’t pull up any matches from the prints. The marks on Shannon’s wrists were made with heavy boating rope, which can be bought anywhere along the coast. It’s used by boaters and fishermen all over these parts. Forensics pulled a few fibers that were embedded deeply in the wounds.”

  “Your lab here in Bass Bay can do that?”

  “No, we had to send the remains to York. They have a good forensic lab there. The feebies are involved now.” Chris gave a humorless chuckle. “They put together a profile which could describe eighty percent of the men around the parts.”

  “Male, late twenties to late thirties. Someone familiar with fishing. Has a boat or access to one. Someone familiar with the area. A local. A trusted member of the community? Someone who works with their hands?” I said.

  “Pretty much all of what you said. Add on ‘someone familiar with sharks’.”

  “Which could also be anyone around here?”

  “Could be a lot of people. Most locals are familiar with how sharks work. Anyone who fishes has seen them, if not had encounters with them. Many of us have had a shark steal the big fish from us.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “This is a common story around the harbor because it’s happened to lots of fishermen. You’re standing on a dock, or sitting in a boat, reeling in a big one, and you pull it out of the water. You’re excited as hell because the fish you caught is at least a two footer or more, and a shark’s giant mouth blasts out of the water, and chomps most of the fish from you, leaving only the head for you to take home.”

  I laughed. “That’s got to be exciting.”

  “Exciting and frustrating. The bastards.”

  I smiled. “I like the way you talk.”

  “How do I talk?”

  “You say ‘shahk’. And ‘hahbah’, for harbor.’’

  “Oh, yeah? How about a cup of cwafee? Miss New York?”

  I laughed out loud. “I don’t say cwafee.”

  “You do so. You said it this yesterday morning. And you said, ‘owasome.’ That’s owasome!”

  I punched him in the arm. “Baloney.”

  “What about when you asked me to cwall you with any information regarding the case?”

  “I don’t talk like that. I’m not from New York City.”

  He threw his head back and laughed. “You don’t tawk like that, huh?”

  I gave him my best screw you face. “Keep that up, bustah, I’m gonna bust yah face fah yah.”

  “Hey, that was a pretty good Maine accent.”

  “I know. I’m good.”

  “It’s not really heavy. But it is noticeable. It’s more the upstate NY accent.”

  “From a working class area. I know. And you’re right. That’s exactly the kind of street I grew up on.”

  “Not a thing wrong with that, Leah.” He smiled, and it lit up the night. Fireworks burst in the sky, and we both knew there wouldn’t ever be a better moment than right now, if we were going to have that first kiss.

  I placed my hands lightly on his shoulders and stood up on tip-toe in the same instant that he leaned down, and when his lips met mine, my toes curled.

  The kiss seemed to go on forever. His hands encircled my waist, and I breathed in the clean, musky scent of him intermingling with the ocean breeze.

  After a long while, I broke the kiss and pulled back, breathless. “How about we sit here on the sand and watch the fireworks?”

  “How about I take you to my place and kiss every inch of your body?” he said, eyes misted with desire.

  The offer was tempting, and although the word yes wanted to leap out of my mouth, I took a breath and said some other words instead. “As tempting as that is, I think we’d better take it a bit slower. It’s best for both of us. Believe me.”

  “Are you scared of me?” he asked.

  I laughed. “No, silly. I’m scared of me.”

  He took my hand and led me to a spot on a sandy incline, and we sat down and watched the fireworks break apart in the night sky.

  ***

  Jackson was waiting up for me when Chris dropped me off. He sat on the deck, looking out at the water. His face turned to us as Chris’ car approached, and I tried to read it in the half-light spilling out from the living room lamp. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  At the risk of Jackson seeing me making kissy face with Chris, which for some reason made me feel icky, I leaned over and gave Chris a quick kiss on the lips.

  “Protective of you, isn’t he?” Chris observed. “Like a big brother?”

  “Yeah. Jackson and I have been friends for a lot of years. We’re pretty protective of each other.”

  “Would you wait on the deck for him to come back from a date?”

  The question jolted me, because I wouldn’t do that. “No. But then, maybe it’s a big brother thing. Sisters never wait for their brothers to come back from dates.”

  “Right.” He smiled.

  “I had a really great time with you tonight, Chris. Thanks so much.”

  “Anytime. Actually, how about lunch tomorrow?”

  I hesitated. Opened my mouth to speak but wasn’t sure what to say. I paused a moment too long and he noticed.

  “Too fast?”

  “Just a little. Sorry. If I don’t have a ton of space, I get freaky.” I also tend to jump into the physical part of a relationship too fast, usually sabotaging the relationship before it really ever begins.

  “It’s okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Right. Okay. Night, Chris.”

  “Night, Leah.” He reached a hand over and brushed a rogue strand of hair out of my eyes. A gesture that somehow seemed more intimate than his kiss.

  I grinned. Climbed out of his Mustang, which felt like I’d been riding in a roller skate, and made my way up the stairs.

  “Hey, Jax.”

  “Hey, Kicks.”

  “Have you been in this same spot since I left?”

  “Actually, I had a wild sex party here. They’re al
l hiding in the closet.”

  “Wow. Too bad I missed that.”

  He slowly turned a beer can on the table. “How was the date?”

  “It was nice. Nothing too spectacular. Walk on the beach. Watched some fireworks.”

  He nodded slowly, looked at the floor of the deck.

  “Nothing happened, Jackson. Don’t worry about me.” If I only had a nickel for all the times I’ve told Jackson not to worry about me, I’d be a seriously rich woman.

  “I’m not your dad, Leah. I just don’t want you to lose yourself again.”

  I’ve struggled with a bit of an addiction over the years. Sex is my drug of choice. All those feel-good hormones raging through the brain. Makes you forget any bad stuff you’re trying not to remember. I actually saw a YouTube documentary about dopamine, the chemical that floods your brain when you’re aroused or excited about a new person, and was not surprised to learn that the brain of someone reaching orgasm looks exactly the same as someone shooting heroine. Or gambling. Or eating their favorite food. Pretty much anything addictive that turns you on.

  It’s the rush that I’m addicted to. The feeling of euphoria during that first blush of a relationship. My problem is that it’s not real. Eventually that rush wears off, and then my interest wanes.

  I’m messed up and I know it. But knowing it is the first step to fixing it, right?

  Right.

  “I’m fine. I know, I’ve said that before. But seriously. I won’t screw up this case with a new drug.”

  He gave a single nod. “Good enough, Kicks.”

  The Rolling Stones rocked Satisfaction on my cell’s ring tone. I looked at the screen. Frowned.

  “Who is it?” Noticing my reaction, Jackson asked.

  “Logan.” I hit the ‘talk’ button. “This is Leah.”

  “Leah, it’s Nick.”

  “Hi, Nick.”

  “I figured you were still awake. I was out watching the fireworks on the beach and spotted you with Detective McCool. Thought I could catch you before you turned in for bed.”

  Creepy. “You did.”

  “Look, Leah. I feel like I came off like a bit of a jerk the other night.”

  “A bit.”

  “I’d really like a chance to redeem myself, if only so you don’t have our last meeting as the memory of me that sticks out most in your mind.”

  I narrowed my eyes, thinking. Caught movement and looked at Jackson, who was performing the universal gesture with his fisted hand for, ‘he’s yankin’ it’. Tried not to laugh. “Okay.”

  “I’d really like to show you something, if you’ll let me. I want to share something with you.”

  “All right. When do you want to meet?” I made sure to say ‘meet’, because I really didn’t want Logan to see this as a date.

  Excitement edged his tone. “Are you free tomorrow morning?”

  “So far.” Barring any new dead bodies popping out of the ocean or washing up on the beach.

  “Great. My boat. Eight o’clock tomorrow morning. Okay?”

  “Okay. See you then.”

  “Thanks, Leah.”

  “Sure.” I hung up.

  Jackson gave me an incredulous look. “Another date with that asshole? Seriously?”

  “He says he wants to show me something.”

  “I’ll bet he does.”

  “Says he feels like he came off as a jerk.”

  “He’s right on the money with that one.”

  “I’m meeting him at eight o’clock on his boat tomorrow morning.”

  “Right. What could be more non-threatening than breakfast?”

  “He’s harmless, Jax. Just a little shark-obsessed.”

  “Famous last words. Except for the shark-obsessed part. I think he’s a little Leah obsessed, too.”

  “Okay. Well, I’m turning in. See you in the morning.”

  He took a deep breath. Let it out. “Night, Kicks.”

  I stripped down to panties and changed into a tank top, and slid beneath cool sheets. The roll of the waves outside my window lulled me to sleep before I had a chance to worry about the morning.

  ***

  The morning brought cloudy skies and drizzle. Not exactly the ideal weather to be on a boat, but then, I really didn’t know what Logan had planned for me. I pulled on a pair of worn jeans that used to be black, but now were dark grey, with worn knees. I wasn’t going to try to impress Logan because I really didn’t care what he thought of me. An attitude I felt about most people across the board. Except for Jackson. And Chris McCool. Him, I liked.

  I wore a hoodie over my tank top, so I pulled the hood over my head. My hair was a mess, as usual, and I really wasn’t concerned, but I had the feeling I was going to get poured on in the next few minutes.

  I wasn’t wrong. Before I arrived at Logan’s boat, the rain was coming down in sheets. He ran out to my Jeep with an umbrella, wearing a huge, black rain poncho. His glasses were speckled with drops, and I couldn’t see his eyes behind them.

  I opened the door, the umbrella already over my head. “Thanks, Nick. You didn’t have to run out here like this. I won’t melt.”

  “I don’t mind.” He smiled, and his even teeth were white enough to appear on a toothpaste commercial.

  “Thanks.”

  I followed him across the dock to his boat. He offered his hand, helping me step onto it. I found it slightly unnerving, but I didn’t know why. Maybe I had judged him too harshly. So he was passionate about his work. He’d dedicated his life to sharks. Who was I to piss all over his parade?

  “Come on in,” he said. “It’s not fancy, but it’s dry.”

  The cabin of the houseboat was cozy. A wooden, built-in table sat against the window of one side, with oak cabinets, a bedroom in the back of the boat, and a small bathroom. He didn’t have to move from his spot in the middle of the small room to give me the tour. He simply pointed here and there.

  “This is cool, Nick.” I looked around, taking my jacket off and draping it over one of the chairs. “I like it.”

  “I like it, too.”

  “What about during really bad weather. Does your home move a lot?”

  “It rocks but that’s okay. I don’t get seasick.” He smiled. “Have you eaten?”

  “Not yet. I’m not a huge breakfast person.”

  “I have some fruit. I make a killer yogurt parfait. Strawberries, bananas and blueberries. Some granola on top.”

  My stomach growled in response. Maybe it wasn’t breakfast it objected to, but what I tried to put into it. Like coffee and cold pizza, or other leftovers from the night before. “That sounds great. Thank you. Do you have coffee?”

  “You bet. I have some in the fridge. Made it last night. I know you like iced coffee, right?”

  “Good memory.” I thought of Chris making fun of the way I say ‘coffee’ and smiled at the memory. “So what did you want to show me?”

  “I was going to take you to the aquarium, but I have a better idea.” He scooped yogurt into a tall glass, scooped blueberries, sliced bananas and strawberries on top, then more yogurt and repeated the pattern.

  “Oh?”

  He topped the parfait with granola and stuck a spoon in the concoction and placed it in front of me. “Now, you take just cream in your iced coffee, right? No sugar?”

  “Yes. Thank you. So what are we doing instead of the aquarium?”

  “Have you ever gone diving?” He asked me.

  “Uh, no.”

  “Would you like to?”

  I thought about it, taking a bite of the yogurt parfait and letting the taste slide over my tongue. “This is really good, you know that?”

  He placed a glass of iced coffee in front of me, complete with a bendy straw. “You’re welcome. So, do you want to go diving with me?”

  “You know, Nick, I’m a little nervous, what with the whole, almost being shark food the other day.”

  “Leah, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

&
nbsp; “Okay, just assume, for the sake of argument, that I do go diving with you. What if hungry sharks surround us? How would you stop a shark attack?”

  “I’ve gone diving with sharks many times. I’ve swum with them more times than I could ever count. I’m still in one piece.”

  I gave him a doubtful look, sipping my coffee. Also spectacular. Nice and strong.

  “It’s how you act in the water. They don’t usually go after divers.”

  “Usually?”

  “Look.” He set his laptop, a nice seventeen incher, on the table and pulled up a video file. It was a video of him swimming with a shark. The shark was calm, allowing him to run a hand over its back and tail as it swam slowly by.

  Soon another shark jointed them, and Logan swam over to it, slowly, using fluid movements. Before long, he was swimming alongside the huge fish, caressing its head, back, dorsal fin.

  Logan’s face took on a light I hadn’t seen before. His love for sharks was clearly pure and unbreakable. “Those are both blues. See the slender bodies. They’re large. Both twelve feet in length. Both males.”

  “Oh, my God. How are you doing that?” I watched, not quite believing what I was seeing.

  “It’s about trust. Leah, that shark could’ve bitten you, but it didn’t. You could do this. People go on shark dives all the time. They pay a pretty penny to do it, too. It’s an incredible experience.”

  I still wasn’t convinced. “I don’t know. Those two girls were bitten up pretty good.”

  “Those two girls were fed to the sharks, lured, no doubt, by the smell of fish guts and blood. They can’t tell the difference with all the chum in the water, between humans and fish pieces. What if I put you in a shark cage?”

  I considered it. I was absolutely terrified of sharks, now that I’d been up close and personal with one. It had been a very close call.

  But one thing I’d always been a big believer in is facing my fears.

  “I just want you to see them the way that I do.” Nick’s face was serious. “Not many people do. But, Leah. It’s magical.”

  How could I say ‘no’?

  ***

  The abandoned lighthouse sat on the island about a quarter of a mile away from the boat. Several seals swam toward us, greeting us with huge, liquid eyes.