A Walk on the Dead Side (Secret Seal Isle Mysteries Book 3)

by Lucy Quinn

  A Walk on the Dead Side

  Secret Seal Isle Mysteries

  Lucy Quinn

  Seaside Story Productions

  Copyright © 2017 by Seaside Story Productions

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover by Lewellen Designs

  Editing by Angie Ramey

  Don’t miss an installment from Lucy Quinn. Sign up for her newsletter.

  Contents

  About This Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  About the Author

  About This Book

  Secret Seal Isle

  Book 3: A Walk on the Dead Side

  All Cookie James wanted was a romantic island picnic with her sexy handyman, Dylan Creed. What she got was a lobster trap full of drugs. As an ex-FBI agent, Cookie's determined to hand the evidence off to local authorities and stay out of the fray. But when a package arrives with a gory warning, she has no choice but to call in her former partner, Hunter O'Neil and investigate the case.

  Hunter’s arrival brings more than crime fighting expertise. He'd like his connection to Cookie to finally be more than professional. There's no denying the sparks between them. Except with Dylan in the picture, Cookie's realizing someone else might be lighting her fire. Unfortunately, her love life is going to have to wait. Between kidnappings, attempted murder, and stolen kisses, Cookie James has a case to solve.

  1

  “Cookie!” Rain called as she ran from the kitchen, her bright red hair sticking out at all angles.

  “What the heck happened to you?” Cookie James asked, pausing in front of the front door of the inn she owned. She took a good long look at her mother, noting the smudged eye makeup and mud-stained, silver-sequined dress. It was quite the sight for any woman, much less one in her late sixties.

  “Not what happened, dear. It’s who.” Her mother pumped her eyebrows suggestively. “You remember that silver fox who checked in over the weekend?”

  “Mother.” Cookie took a deep breath, trying to keep her irritation in check. “You didn’t.”

  “Oh, I did. Over and over and over again. He did this thing with his—”

  “Stop!” Cookie covered her ears with her hands. “Please keep the details of your bedroom gymnastics to yourself. No daughter wants to hear her mother talk about… well you know, this stuff.”

  “Oh, we weren’t in the bedroom,” Rain said with a sly smile.

  “Gah!” Cookie pulled the door open and stepped out on the wrap-around porch, nearly running straight into the wide chest of Dylan Creed, the man who was there to pick her up for their raincheck date.

  “Well, good morning,” he said, steadying her with his large hands.

  Her breath caught as she looked up into his handsome face. Dark eyes smiled down on her. “Um, morning.”

  “Oh, don’t you look handsome today,” Rain gushed, pushing Cookie aside.

  “Rain,” he said with a polite nod. “You look… ah, like you had a good time last night.”

  Rain giggled, a slight blush staining her cheeks. “Last night and this morning. I needed to give our guest a warm send off.”

  Dylan choked out a laugh. “Is that what you’re calling it these days?”

  “Oh, hell,” Cookie muttered. “Dylan, we better get going otherwise we’ll end up with an x-rated play-by-play.” She grabbed his hand and started tugging him down the porch stairs.

  “Wait!” Rain called running after them. “You’re going to need these.”

  Cookie stopped and turned back just in time to see Rain pulled a couple of square, foil-wrapped condom packages out of her cleavage. Horror filled her as she prayed the earth would open up and swallow her whole. Maybe if Cookie ignored her, Dylan wouldn’t notice. “We’re good. Thanks anyway, mother.” Cookie tightened her grip on Dylan’s hand, moving toward his truck. They had a picnic to get to.

  “Safety first!” Rain said, rushing to Cookie’s side. She pressed the packages into Cookie’s hand. “No sense getting caught out in the rain without a raincoat. Get it?” She cackled at her joke.

  With her face burning, Cookie quickly shoved the protection into her shorts pocket and glared at her mother.

  But Rain glanced down at the ground. “Oops. You dropped one.”

  Cookie cut her gaze to the blue wrapper, swore under her breath, then glanced at Dylan.

  He was grinning like a loon, but to his credit, he didn’t say anything. He just reached down, picked up the condom, and nodded to her mother. “Thanks, Rain. You’re right. One never can be too prepared.”

  “Someone kill me now,” Cookie muttered.

  “Na.” Dylan held the condom up and winked at her. “We wouldn’t want these to go to waste would we?”

  “That’s the spirit, dear,” Rain said, patting his arm. “Now you two kids go have some fun. Cookie could use a good—”

  “Mother!” Cookie admonished.

  Rain held up her hands. “I’m just saying.”

  Dylan laughed, put the condom in his back pocket, then guided Cookie to his truck. “Come on. Lunch is waiting.”

  Cookie, unable to get the condom incident out of her mind, was mostly silent as Dylan navigated his boat out of Secret Seal harbor. She knew he wasn’t expecting anything from her. They barely had a relationship. But still… knowing there was a condom burning a hole in both of their pockets had sent her imagination into a tailspin. She cleared her throat, ready to tackle to incident head-on, but then he spoke, ignoring the subject entirely.

  “So you were a spy.”

  Cookie sighed, both wary and relieved at the out-of-the-blue question. She sat up a little, shading her eyes with one hand so she could study her accuser. The sun was warm on her face as her heart started to jackhammer with pleasure. Dylan was grinning at her, dimples on full attack, steel-blue eyes crinkling at the corners and glinting with mischief.

  “Sure,” she replied after a second, feeling her own lips tug upward in a smirk. “That was me, a regular Jane Bond.”

  That drew a laugh out of him, a deep, rich, rolling sound that brought a wide smile to her face. “No, but seriously,” he said, keeping a steady hand on the controls of the outboard motor as they tooled around the small islands off the coast of Maine. “You’ve never said what you did before you moved out here. I’m guessing you weren’t in the hospitality business.”

  “No. Running an inn is a new venture for us.” Cookie’s mind wandered to the Secret Seal Inn and her mother Rain, who no doubt was getting into some kind of trouble. There was no telling what Cookie would walk in on when she got home later. Hopefully it didn’t involve anymore naked guests or special brownies. You’d think a hot, smart, charming, capable guy like Dylan would have every bit of Cookie’s
focus. But when her mind wandered to Rain, all bets were off.

  “Judging by the way you handled the scene on Dickie’s boat,” Dylan continued, referencing the dead man they’d found with his junk tied up in a big red bow, “and the fact that Hayley said you were some kind of badass taking down those guys singlehandedly. . .” he shook his head. “It’s obvious you’ve got some serious training going on there.”

  Cookie wanted to deny it, to make something up, but knew there was no point. She couldn’t explain away her role in saving Hayley from would-be kidnappers. He had her dead to rights. Besides, she liked Dylan. Maybe even really liked him, though it was a little early to tell. But she definitely liked him enough that she didn’t want to have to lie to him. So instead, as much as it went against both her instincts and her training, she told him the truth.

  “I did train,” she admitted, straightening up so she could shift on the boat’s bench seat and face him fully. “At Quantico.” She offered him her hand. “Former FBI Special Agent Cookie James, pleased to meet you.”

  Dylan’s smile said he wasn’t quite sure if she was joking with the handshake, but he accepted it anyway. “FBI, huh?” he replied, his strong, slender fingers wrapping around her own hand firmly but still gently enough to send a shiver straight through her. A good shiver that had nothing to do with the cool ocean breeze blowing through her hair. “But former?” he let her go and leaned back on his own seat a little. “What happened?”

  She shrugged, looking away and trying to convince someone, either him or herself, that it wasn’t a big deal. “I pissed off the wrong people,” she answered slowly. “It wasn’t safe for me to stay, and it wasn’t the kind of thing I couldn’t fight, so I got the hell out.”

  When she looked up again, she saw he was frowning, and his eyes had darkened slightly, shading from blue toward gray. Uh oh. She’d already known him long enough to realize that meant he was either irritated or angry.

  “Pissed off how?” he asked quietly. “When you say the wrong people, do you mean perps or peers?”

  A wave of warmth rushed through her as she processed his questions. It hadn’t dawned on her he’d be upset on her behalf. He thought she’d been wronged at the Bureau, and that’s why she’d left. “It wasn’t anyone at work, nothing like that,” she hurried to assure him. “I took somebody down, but the organization is still out there, and that makes me a target. If I’d been the only one on their radar, that would’ve been fine, I’d have handled it. But I couldn’t risk them going after anyone else to get to me.”

  “Your mother, Rain?” he asked.

  Cookie nodded.

  “Yeah, I get that,” he assured her, and she thought he probably did. Which reminded her that he had a few secrets of his own.

  “What about you?” She leaned forward, not missing the way his eyes flicked to the opening of her loose shirt and the bikini top that peeked through. “You told me once that you left for a few years, for school and other stuff, before coming back, but I get the feeling there’s more to it than that. You’ve got some skills you didn’t pick up on a college campus.” She remembered the way he’d taken Hunter down when her former partner had tried getting in his face. Not a lot of guys could do that. And Dylan had made it look easy, almost instinctual, like he’d been thoroughly trained and on autopilot.

  He held up his free hand, chuckling. “Oh, no,” he told her, “we’re still talking about you, Miss Federal Agent. We’ll get to me some other time.”

  You bet I will, Cookie thought to herself, but didn’t argue. Despite it being a little one-sided, she was enjoying the conversation. And the view. But not just Dylan. The sky was a pristine blue, while the glinting sun made the water appear to be a sheet of silvered glass. Even the hum of the engine was soothing, and she found herself sighing contentedly.

  Dylan flashed his easy smile. “What?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head, worried that she’d sound stupid, but then blurted it out anyway. “It’s just—it’s nice here. Quiet. Peaceful. Beautiful.” She glanced his way, peering at him through her lashes in case he was going to mock her. “I like it.”

  “I’m glad,” he said, and sounded completely serious. “Hopefully that means you’ll stick around for a while.” There were those dimples again. They were so dangerous, they probably should’ve been registered as lethal weapons, Cookie thought, trying not to let on just how much they affected her. But then he turned serious and the dimples vanished as he asked, “You are planning to stick around, right?”

  “Absolutely,” she answered. “Why wouldn’t I?” She made a point of glancing around and then eyed him hungrily. “What else could a girl possibly need?”

  She was pleased to see that she’d gotten him to blush, at least. But that wasn’t enough to distract him from the topic. “You’re not planning to go back to the FBI once things are settled at home?”

  Cookie frowned. She wanted to just tell him no, of course not. But he appeared serious about the question, and it deserved a proper, honest answer. “I’m not saying there aren’t things I miss about Philly,” she admitted.

  He nodded. “Sure. That’s understandable. Moving to a new place is hard.”

  “Right. So, yeah, there are things I miss there. People, too. But I don’t know that I can go back. Things have changed. I’ve changed.” She thought about her old life and her old self. About how driven she’d been, and how she’d been determined to show everyone a woman could do the job just as well as a man. She’d succeeded, but she’d sacrificed every other area of her life getting there. Cookie hadn’t minded at the time. She’d loved her job. But now… she wasn’t so sure it was worth it.

  She shook her head, sending a lock of her thick auburn waves across her cheek and into her eyes. Pushing it back, she once again met his contemplative gaze. “This place has a way of getting its hooks into a person, you know? I never thought I’d say this, but I kind of love it here. The simplicity, the beauty, and despite all her crazy antics, I might even be enjoying spending more time with Rain.”

  “You’ve only been here, what, a month?” Dylan asked, still frowning slightly. “A little more?” After she nodded, he continued. “And already you’ve gotten caught up in two murder investigations.”

  “Neither of which turned out to be murders, exactly,” Cookie pointed out. The first one had proven to be an accidental death, and the second had been a natural death, just unexpected and linked to a blackmail plot.

  “Sure, but the point is, you always seem to be where the action is,” Dylan said. “I just don’t know if you’re as ready for the quiet life as you claim, that’s all.”

  “Well, you’d better keep me entertained then, hadn’t you?” she shot back, batting her eyelashes at him, feeling slightly foolish. She wasn’t normally this…bold.

  That got him to laugh again. “Sure, you say that, but it took me a week to get you out here,” he reminded her.

  “Hey, that isn’t all on me,” she shot back. “I seem to recall somebody else begging off a few times, too.”

  “Guilty as charged,” Dylan agreed, still smiling. “What was I to do? Mrs. Ledger’s basement was flooded, and it couldn’t wait.” As the town’s one and only handyman, Dylan got called for all kinds of odd jobs and repairs. But Cookie could tell he loved it. Still, between his work and her dealing with the inn and her mom, it had taken until today before they’d both had any free time.

  “We’re here now,” she said, leaning against the side of the boat again. She tilted her head back a little and closed her eyes as a spray of cool water splashed on her face. “I figure it was worth the wait.”

  “Oh, no argument there,” she heard Dylan murmur, and smiled. Even with her eyes shut, Cookie could guess from his tone that he was studying her body in her cut-off shorts and white cross-tied shirt, and that he liked what he saw.

  Yes, there were definitely some things on Secret Seal Isle worth sticking around for.

  2

  “What do you think?�
�� Dylan asked as he drew the boat up alongside a piling and expertly looped the anchor rope around it. “Better by day?” He shut off the boat’s motor and gathered the picnic basket from the bench beside him.

  Cookie laughed. “Much.” The last time she’d been out here to Lookout Point it had been night time, and she and Hunter had been racing to save Hayley Holloway from a blackmail scheme and potential kidnapping situation. She hadn’t exactly had the time to look around and appreciate her surroundings. The threat of being shot had been a much higher priority.

  Now, however, there was nobody here but them. It was broad daylight, and she could admire the island to her heart’s content. It really was a nice little place. She’d noticed on her previous visit that it was mostly circular, with a ring of rocks around the edge and a gentle, grassy mound at the center. The island was small enough that as they clambered over the outer ring, she could see clear across to the other side. Add a few tables and benches and maybe a grill, and you’d have the perfect spot for a private picnic gathering.

  “So, what’s for lunch?” Cookie asked as she followed him toward the top of the mound.

  “Lobster rolls and coleslaw from the Salty Dog. And if that isn’t enough, I might have a container of berries and homemade whipped cream. Not to mention the wine. Sound good?” he asked, glancing back over his shoulder.

  “It’s perfect,” she said, quickening her pace to catch up with him. But as she took another glance at the rocky shores, she stopped abruptly, focusing on a glint at the water’s edge. That familiar sense of unease, the one that silently warned her something wasn’t quite right, blossomed in her gut.