As she neared the island, she pulled on the furling line, and the head sail slowly wrapped around the front stay. Their forward movement reduced by one half. She started the motor, then released the mainsheet. The sail slid down the mast, guided into loose folds by the lazy jacks.
Blake moved to stand beside her, steadying himself with the rear safety line. “Anything I can do to help?”
“Nope, I’ve got it.” She had Tranquility set up for single-handing, with all the lines run to the cockpit. Before she left Rhode Island, she had made sure she could handle everything without even stepping away from the helm.
As close to the northeastern tip as she dared get, she killed the motor and depressed a button marked Down. The electric windlass lowered the anchor. Once sure it was set, she secured the sail.
“How about pulling a couple of bungee cords out of that storage locker?” She pointed to the lazarette in the rear of the boat. She wouldn’t bother with the sail cover. The bungee cords would secure it just fine.
With Blake’s help, the task was completed in moments.
“Let’s get below.” Already the first fat raindrops were beginning to pelt them. She stepped around the helm, then motioned Blake down ahead of her. Brinks was already there. As soon as things had started to get rough, Blake put him in the cabin.
As she descended, both Brinks and Blake stood in the galley area looking up at her. Respect shined from Blake’s eyes.
“You did well.”
She closed the hatch and walked past them to sit on the long seat opposite the dining area. Blake sat next to her, and Brinks lay at their feet.
“You’re a little premature in your praise. I haven’t gotten us back yet.”
“Well, I have full confidence in you. Your grace and competence up there inspire trust.”
She snickered. She couldn’t help it.
Blake cocked a brow. “What’s so funny?”
“I haven’t been called graceful too many times.”
“Well, you are.”
“You should have seen me as a kid. Total klutz.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
“It’s true. You know all the Most Likely To awards they give out in high school? Well, I have the distinction of being named the most likely to break a limb.”
Blake laughed. “That’s terrible.”
“Terrible, but deserved. Fortunately I’ve outgrown most of it.” Learning to sail had done wonders for her balance. Or she just outgrew the klutziness on her own.
“Something tells me you have some very entertaining stories.”
She raised her voice to be heard over the howl of the wind and the sheets of rain pelting the deck over their heads. The relentless deluge flowed over all the windows, making it impossible to see anything outside the well-lit cabin. But inside they were dry and secure.
“Yeah, I have a few.”
“I don’t think this is going to be letting up anytime soon. So entertain me.”
She thought for a moment. “When I was in eighth grade, I got this really cool pair of platform shoes. I was so proud of them. Anyhow, I was changing classes and walking toward the cutest guy in the school. Just when I got up to him, I stepped on the edge of the sidewalk.”
“Uh-oh. I think I know where this is going.”
“Yep. One minute I was giving him a shy smile, hoping so bad he would notice me. The next I was sprawled out in the grass amid all my papers and books, hoping so bad he wouldn’t notice me.”
“And did he?”
“Oh, yeah, along with two teachers, thirty students and a couple of stray cats.”
Blake laughed, and she laughed with him. She could joke about it now. It hadn’t been so funny then, with the popular kids’ mocking laughter ringing in her ears. All she could think about at the time was how her sister, Angela, would never have done something like that. Angela had always been the picture of poise and grace. Still was. But Angela would never single-hand a sailboat from Rhode Island to Florida. Or move twelve hundred miles from home to make a fresh start.
She turned in the seat so she was facing Blake. An almost imperceptible bump vibrated through the hull, as if they had brushed bottom. There were shoals nearby. But they had plenty of depth where they were anchored. Even taking into account that they were headed toward low tide. Unless they had drifted.
No, the anchor was set, and she had let out plenty of rode. She shook off the uneasiness.
“So tell me what the young Blake was like.”
“Daredevil to the point of being stupid. I practically lived in the emergency room.”
“What’s the dumbest thing you ever did?”
“Hmm. There were so many it’s hard to pick one. But I’d say sledding off the garage roof.”
Allison cringed. “That sounds painful.”
“The first time was great. By the time I reached the edge, I had enough momentum that I made this nice arc to the ground. Since the backyard sloped away from the house, I kept going, all the way down to the frozen creek at the back edge of our property and partway up the other side.”
“I take it that wasn’t Dallas.”
“No, I grew up in Flagstaff, Arizona. We didn’t move to Dallas until I was fifteen.”
“So what happened? I’m guessing the other attempts didn’t go so well.”
“’Fraid not. The second time the TV antenna got in the way.”
She flashed him a crooked grin. “A whole roof, and you couldn’t miss one two-inch pole?”
“I was ten. What can I say?”
“So what did you break, besides the antenna?”
“The antenna fared better than I did. When the sled hit the ground, I wasn’t on it. I landed on my arm, actually heard the bone snap.”
A shudder shook her shoulders. “I pity your parents.”
“Everyone else did, too.”
She smiled over at him. Fearless as a child and fearless as an adult. Except now he channeled that courage into fighting for justice. Getting hurt didn’t change that. He was still fighting for justice, in an unofficial capacity. Once a hero, always a hero.
He returned her smile, and their gazes locked. The respect she had seen earlier was still there, along with something else. A quiver settled in her stomach, accompanied by a delicious warmth. She squared her shoulders, determined to quash both. With her history, she had no business falling for anyone. But despite her best intentions, Blake was rapidly becoming more than a friend.
And he was apparently feeling it, too. He drew in a slow, deep breath, and his gaze shifted to the window. “How long do you think this is going to last?”
“Hard to say.” From the time they came below, the boat had bobbed up and down in the angry waves, rising and falling, pitching and rocking. “That wind is really howling, and the rain doesn’t show any signs of letting up.”
She turned to look through the window at her side. Water cascaded over the Plexiglas, and in between, a mass of green hovered in the distance. Seahorse Key. She frowned. When they anchored, the island was right over the bow.
“The wind is shifting direction. It’s coming out of the south now instead of the southwest.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Not a big one. We’re just not nearly as protected.” She heaved a sigh. “At least no one seemed to be following us today.”
Blake nodded, but there was hesitancy in the motion. No one was following them that they could see. He didn’t say it, but she knew what he was thinking. With a mast shooting fifty-something feet into the air and huge white sails, they were much easier to spot than the powerboat.
“As soon as this—” She stopped midsentence at the shhh of the keel dragging through sand. She paused, waiting. There was still movement, but it had changed. Instead of bobb
ing freely in the water, the boat had taken up a slow, sloppy side-to-side motion.
“What’s wrong?”
“The anchor dragged. We’re grounded.”
“Do we need to call for a tow?” The concern she would expect wasn’t there. That was Blake—calm in the face of trouble.
“I don’t think so. We’re a couple of hours from low tide. After that, it’ll come in and lift us free.”
Within an hour, the storm had passed, and the sun was trying to make an appearance. She moved up on deck to assess the situation. The boat was fine, but they were a good thirty feet from where they had anchored.
She turned to look at Blake. “Given that we’re stuck here for the next two or three hours, what do you say we take the dinghy to shore? Unfortunately, Brinks will have to stay. Like all the other islands here, Seahorse Key is a national wildlife refuge.”
Blake stood and removed a package from one of the galley cabinets. “No problem. We’ll bribe him with treats.”
Moments later, they stepped from the cabin, leaving Brinks happily chewing a jerky stick. Blake followed her off the swim platform and into the small boat. After two pulls on the rope, the trolling motor sputtered to life and propelled them slowly toward the shore. It would be dark by the time they began their return trip to Cedar Key.
Blake had apparently noticed the same thing. His gaze was fixed on the western sky, where the sun was three-fourths of the way through its descent. “How are you with night sailing?”
“Good. I just follow the beacons. I know these waters so well, I think I could sail them in my sleep.”
They stepped ashore where the easternmost edge of the island hooked around, and Blake pulled the dinghy onto dry ground. Then they headed down the beach, making their way along the outer curve. Waves lapped at the sand near their feet, and seagulls circled overhead, their raucous calls punctuating the gentle sounds of the seaside. Soon the light would fade, and the sky would become ablaze with color. A romantic sunset walk on the beach was so not in her plans for the day.
Blake released a contented sigh. “This is great. I missed out on this growing up. Moving to Dallas put us a little closer to the beach, but not much.”
She bent to pick up a shell and turned it over in her hand. “I’ve spent countless hours at the beach. I grew up in Boston, then moved to Rhode Island when I got married.”
“Losing your husband must have been really tough.”
That was an understatement. She lost her husband when she found out he had been killed, then lost him all over again when she learned that the honest, hardworking man she had fallen in love with didn’t exist.
She shrugged and dropped the shell. “It was. But you pick up the pieces, time marches forward, and each day it gets a little easier. Of course, I had a little help. I had new friends and a really supportive church family.” They didn’t know her past, but they welcomed her with open arms. “And my faith,” she added. Which was as new as her friends were. She had Darci to thank for a lot of things.
“I’m glad it’s working for you.”
“What?”
“The whole religion thing.”
“It can work for anybody, you know.”
He picked up a piece of driftwood and tossed it down the beach. “I don’t know. From everything I’ve seen, Christianity is just a bunch of dos and don’ts.”
She frowned. “That’s what a lot of people try to make it, but that’s not what it is. It’s all about relationships, first and foremost with God, and then with each other.”
“It sounds appealing when you put it that way.”
“It is.”
“Maybe I’ll check it out sometime.”
The politely dismissive tone signaled the end of the topic. Hopefully over time he would soften. If only he could find the peace and contentment she had found before he headed back to Dallas.
Tom never did find it. If he had, their lives would have turned out differently. He would have been happy with the money he made as a cop and never gotten tangled up with the mob.
“What about you? Has there ever been a Mrs. Blake Townsend?”
“Almost. Once.”
“Did she end it, or did you?”
“She did. Apparently active, strong law enforcement officers are much more appealing than has-beens.”
The bitterness she would expect with his words wasn’t there. What she heard instead was resignation.
She reached over to squeeze his hand. “I wouldn’t know about has-beens. I see a wounded hero, someone who sacrificed his own well-being to make the world a better place. Some women find that irresistible.”
He squeezed her hand in return, but instead of releasing it, entwined his fingers with hers. He stopped walking, pulling her to a halt with him.
“Thank you for saying that.”
He smiled down at her, and her heart gave an answering flutter. They shared a connection, one she hadn’t experienced even with Tom. They had both been wronged, both suffered. And she was having a hard time holding on to her determination to not get romantically involved. Especially with him looking at her like that. His gaze was warm, his eyes shining with appreciation.
But something else was there, too. Doubt.
“You know, that wasn’t just meaningless chatter to try to make you feel better. I meant every word.”
He gave her hand another squeeze then released it. She curled her fingers into her palm, holding on to the heat he had left behind. Now she had no doubt. Everything she was feeling, he was feeling it, too. And he was fighting it as hard as she was.
He resumed walking, and she fell in beside him. Up ahead and to the right, the Seahorse Key lighthouse peeked out over the tops of the palms, oaks and evergreens that covered a good bit of the island. She nodded toward the tower.
“Have you ever been to the lighthouse?”
Blake shook his head. “Is it functioning?”
“Not for the past several decades. At least not as a lighthouse. The University of Florida regularly uses the property for its Seahorse Key Marine Laboratory.”
Her gaze slid away from the mass of green up ahead to the waves rolling in from the Gulf. Unease trickled over her. A shape moved toward them over the water, a boat. Although they were well into dusk, it wasn’t using its running lights.
She shot a worried glance at Blake, but he had already seen it. It moved closer then stopped, close enough to observe them, but not close enough for them to identify the captain or the type of boat.
She reached over and clutched his arm, fear crashing into her. Her voice wavered. “What do we do?”
“So far, he’s just sitting there.” He didn’t meet her eyes. His gaze was still fixed on the water. “It may not even be the same boat.”
She swallowed hard. Did Blake really believe that, or was he just trying to reassure her? She studied him for several moments. He stood in profile, jaw tight, tension radiating off him. No, he didn’t believe his own words.
“We should probably get back to the boat, just in case.” He turned and began walking back in the direction from which they had come. “And it wouldn’t be a bad idea to stay close to the tree line. It makes us harder to see.”
She swallowed hard and hurried to catch up with him. Now she wished she had the Glock. She still didn’t know how to use it, but Blake did. Friday he had given her her first lesson at the shooting range. It was clear he knew his stuff, although he never fired the weapon himself.
“Are you armed?”
“No, I’m not.”
She planted her hands on her hips. “What kind of cop doesn’t carry a gun?” She was only half joking.
Blake stopped so suddenly she almost bumped into him. When he spun to face her, she took a step back. Fury flared across his features, and his fists clenched at hi
s sides. For several moments he stood motionless, brooding silence stretching between them. Then he turned on his heel and stalked away. Although his back was to her, his words reached her anyway, thrown back into her face by the ocean breeze. “One who doesn’t want to risk killing the innocent.”
Dread slid down her throat and settled in her gut like lead. Whatever had happened, someone had died, maybe even at his hand. Had it happened the night he was shot?
Dear Lord, help me to help him.
She hurried after him, catching up to him as he reached the dinghy. He stared straight ahead, posture stiff. The storm they had just endured was nothing compared to what was brewing behind those dark eyes.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, I don’t.”
“It can be therapeutic, you know. Sometimes it helps to get it off your chest.”
He slanted his gaze toward her, his eyes narrowed in anger. And disgust. Whether aimed at her or himself, she wasn’t sure. “No, it won’t help, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.”
As soon as she boarded, they made the short trip back to the boat in stony silence. Her question had hit a raw nerve. And she didn’t know how to take it back.
Once on board Tranquility, Blake reached for his cell phone. “I’m calling Hunter.”
“Good idea.” Seeing a boat on the water didn’t warrant calling nine-one-one, but Hunter could be there in his fishing boat in fifteen or twenty minutes. His presence would scare away her stalker.
And it might help diffuse some of the tension that had developed between her and Blake. They wouldn’t float free for another hour. If she had to be cooped up with a sullen, brooding Blake, time would move at a snail’s pace.
She slid into the U-shaped seat that wrapped the dining table and waited while he spoke with Hunter. Whatever had happened the night he was shot, she would probably never know. And there were likely plenty of other things that she would never know.
And that was okay.
She had been weakening, actually entertaining thoughts of something more than friendship with him. But today was a good wake-up call, a reminder of why she was better off alone. She needed transparency in a relationship—the complete assurance that nothing was hidden, that she wouldn’t wake up one day to learn everything she had built her life on was a lie.
Shattered Haven Page 10
