What she demanded was impossible.
Because everyone harbored secrets. And she wasn’t ready to share hers, either.
* * *
Blake sat on the deck of his boat, feet propped up and eyes peeled for a certain white sailboat to come into view. Allison had dropped off Brinks and left the marina at nine that morning with two pot-bellied, middle-aged men. From what he had seen in the past, most of her charter customers left as soon as they docked. Not these guys. The charter ended at noon, but while she tied things off and readied Tranquility for her afternoon trip, they plied her with questions.
Actually, only one of them did. He apparently thought he had signed up for Everything You Need to Know About Sailing in One Easy Class. The other guy didn’t have any questions. He came across as a know-it-all, inserting “that’s right” after almost everything Allison said.
As Blake watched the exchange, he got more annoyed every passing minute. He had waited all morning to talk with Allison, and these guys were monopolizing her time. Besides that, Know-It-All seemed to be hitting on her, or at least trying hard to impress her.
When she had finished her captain duties, she walked up the dock and toward town, one on each side of her. And his plans for catching her between charters and treating her to lunch went up in smoke. She came back in the afternoon—with her next group of customers.
So he had spent the better part of the day stewing. Things had been icy between them on the sail back last night. Before they parted, she told him she would drop Brinks off in the morning, which he took to mean she didn’t want him to come to her house. She was upset with him. And for good reason. Snapping at her like that was uncalled for. He owed her a big apology, if she would even accept it.
He shielded his eyes from the sinking sun and scanned the water. A powerboat cut through the waves at a good clip, probably Terrance returning from a day of fishing. Behind him, distant sails split the horizon. Brinks stood. The dog seemed to have an internal clock. Or rather a sixth sense about when it was time for the trade-off. Blake didn’t try to deny it—Brinks liked him, but he adored Allison. When it came time to return to Dallas, Brinks was going to be one unhappy dog. But Brinks wasn’t the only one who was going to be unhappy.
Over the next several minutes, the sailboat continued its course, and soon it became obvious. Wherever it was headed, it wasn’t Cedar Key.
He heaved a disappointed sigh and moved toward the cabin. “Come on, boy.” It would be better if he occupied himself elsewhere. What was the saying? The watched pot never boils.
Instead of following, Brinks took a longing look back.
“Come on. She’ll be here soon.” He scratched the dog behind the ears then gave him a pat on the back. Blake understood. This time he was as eager as the dog.
Once below, he took a drink from the cooler and picked up a book. Several minutes later, he closed it and shook his head. Mooning away all day for a woman. When had he become so pathetic?
By the time he went back up on deck, Terrance had docked and was lounging in a pair of cutoff jeans and no shirt, his usual attire. Unless he was leaving the marina, he was always bare-chested, showing off his muscles, which were nothing to sneeze at, or the tough-guy tattoos that covered a good bit of his back, chest and arms.
Blake met his gaze and held up a hand in greeting. Instead of responding, Terrance rose and stepped into the Cuddy’s small cabin. Apparently he wasn’t feeling very personable. Maybe he had had a bad day fishing. Or maybe he wasn’t getting work, and money was running out.
By the time Blake looked back out to sea, another set of sails had appeared. Over the next twenty minutes, the boat closed the distance until he knew for a fact that it was Allison. Brinks figured it out about the same time. His whole body grew rigid with excitement, except for that crazy right ear. It would flop forward no matter what.
Blake held tightly to the leash, watching Allison make her final approach. She stood at the helm, guiding Tranquility in under power, the sails already down. A young couple, probably honeymooners, sat snuggled together on one of the cockpit seats.
As she eased up to the dock, Brinks began to strain at the leash. Blake tightened his grip.
The young couple stepped off the boat and headed down the dock, arms around one another. As soon as they were out of sight, Blake released the leash. Brinks flew off the boat, down the dock and onto Tranquility.
Allison dropped to one knee and cupped the dog’s face with both hands. “How’s my boy?”
She continued her one-sided conversation, using the same tone she had used with Darci’s little boy, even letting Brinks lick her cheek before she straightened.
Blake made his way down the dock. He didn’t get the warm reception the dog did. Instead, she gave him a tentative smile. “Thanks for bringing him over.” There was an unmistakable note of tension in her voice.
He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. He had ruined things. Hopefully he could make it right. “Can I help you with anything?”
She zipped the cover over the main sail and began to coil a line. “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”
He nodded. “Can we talk?”
“Sure.”
He glanced at Terrance. The kid had come back up on deck and sat watching them from two slips over, sipping his beer. He always had a beer in his hand but never appeared to be drunk. It seemed more of a prop, a way to look like a confident adult.
He returned his gaze to Allison. “Somewhere a little more private?” He’d rather not broadcast his relationship woes to half of Cedar Key.
“Let me finish up. Then you can ride with me. I have grocery shopping to do, so I drove the cart.”
For the next several minutes, he leaned against the dock railing and watched her move about her boat. He liked watching her work. It was the way she handled herself, always competent and capable, no matter what nature threw her way.
Like yesterday. Even with the storm bearing down on them, not once had he been concerned for their safety. And when he learned they were grounded, he couldn’t say he was disappointed. He could think of a lot of worse places to be than stranded on an island with Allison, walking hand in hand. Everything had been perfect. Until he got angry with her.
He followed her and Brinks to her golf cart, then slid onto the vinyl seat next to her. Brinks hopped into the back.
“Everything go okay out there?”
“No one seemed to be following me, if that’s what you mean.”
He cast a glance back toward the dock where Terrance sat on his boat, still watching them.
“What do you think of Terrance?”
“He’s a little gruff, but he does good work. I don’t think he’s ever been involved in any kind of criminal activity.”
“Any chance he could have anything to do with all this?”
She frowned. “I don’t see how. He was here when I came, and in the past two years, he hasn’t given me a minute’s trouble. I don’t know why he would start now.”
Blake nodded. She was probably right. Terrance watching them at the dock didn’t mean anything. Neither did the fact that he had a white powerboat. So did a couple dozen other people.
Allison pulled out of Cedar Cove and headed down Second Street. But instead of turning toward The Market, she continued all the way to the end to turn onto G Street. Silence stretched between them, filled with tension.
He squared his shoulders. “I’m sorry about yesterday.”
She shrugged. “It’s all right.”
No, that was too easy. Besides, the tension between them was still there.
“No, it’s not. I shouldn’t have gotten angry, and I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You’re forgiven.” She glanced his way to offer him a weak smile. “I shouldn’t have pressed. Everyone’s entitled to their sec
rets.”
He sucked in an uneasy breath. She had said it was all right. Twice. But something had changed. The easy camaraderie had disappeared, and she had retreated behind a wall of distrust.
She turned left on Gulf Boulevard, where a sign pointed them toward the airport. Airport? He didn’t know Cedar Key had an airport. At the moment, he was glad it did. He had asked for a private place to talk. This was it. There wasn’t a soul in any direction, inside or outside the tall chain-link fence that bordered the short runway.
He had to make her understand. “Your question hit me wrong. I know you didn’t mean it as a put-down. I guess I’m a little sensitive in that area.”
Even as the words spilled out, he knew that wasn’t the issue. He had closed a part of himself off from her. And that bothered her.
But he had no choice. He couldn’t tell her the details of what went down that night. If he did, the respect and admiration she always had for him would be replaced with condemnation.
“I definitely didn’t mean it as a put-down.” She eased to a stop and turned toward him, her gaze sincere. “You’re a good cop. I have no doubt.”
He looked down at his hands folded in his lap, then at the concrete runway that ran the length of the fence. Anything to avoid meeting her gaze.
Because she was studying him. He could feel it. She wasn’t going to try to pry out of him what had happened that night. She wasn’t even going to ask. Instead, she would stare at him, eyes silently pleading with him to let her in. If he only told her part of the story, would she be satisfied?
No. She would listen, and although she wouldn’t press for further details, she would know he hadn’t been totally honest with her. Those clear blue eyes seemed to look right past the walls he put up to the ugliness beneath.
He slowly lifted his gaze to meet hers, then drew in a long, deep breath. “I was doing an undercover buy. Had two detectives covering me. I’d been set up and didn’t know it. The perp pulled out a semiautomatic and started firing.”
Memories surged forward, images that he had spent the past year and a half trying to erase. It hadn’t worked. They were as clear as they had been the day it happened.
He shook his head. “The next several seconds were total chaos. Everything happened so fast. The perp went down. So did a twelve-year-old kid.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. Those images would be indelibly etched on the canvas of his imagination until the day he died—the boy running out from around the corner, the perp grabbing him, the boy’s eyes widening with horror as he clutched his stomach, and once released, his moan as he dropped to his knees and toppled face-first onto the pavement.
Blake sprang from the cart. He needed to walk. Or run. Maybe if he ran far enough, he would eventually escape the memories.
He headed down the deserted street at a brisk pace. A half minute later, Allison was beside him.
“You said there were two other detectives. That shot could have come from one of them, or even the dealer.”
“It could have, but it didn’t. When everything came back from ballistics, the shot that took out the kid came from my weapon.” He stopped walking and turned to face her, his heart twisting in his chest. “I killed him, Allison. I killed a twelve-year-old kid.”
She lifted a hand to his cheek. There was no condemnation in her gaze, just anguish for his suffering.
“It wasn’t your fault. You were under fire. The kid was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“But I killed him. If only I hadn’t pulled the trigger. Or if I had hesitated. The kid would still be alive.”
She gripped both of his arms and gave him a firm shake. “You couldn’t hesitate. You were being shot at. You had to shoot back. To decide to do otherwise would be to lie down and die. And that’s not what good cops do. They do everything in their power to take the bad guys off the street. That’s what you did. Unfortunately, the kid got in the way.”
“He ran out from between two buildings. The perp was right there. He grabbed him and thrust him in front of him.” Nausea churned in his gut. “The coward hid behind a twelve-year-old kid.”
“Then you didn’t kill him. He did.”
Blake twisted away and resumed walking. No, he wouldn’t let himself off the hook that easily. It was his shot, his weapon.
“Are you hearing what I’m saying?” Allison shouted the words at his back. “You didn’t kill anyone.”
Moments later, she was in front of him, hands against his chest, forcing him to either stop or run her over. He stopped. She stared up at him, those beautiful blue eyes full of acceptance and understanding, and all the tension drained out of him.
“You were shooting at the person who was shooting at you.” Her voice was low and soothing, but full of conviction. “The creep grabbed a kid and thrust him in the line of fire, knowing what would happen. How is that your fault?”
She paused, as if waiting for an answer. When he gave none, she continued. “It’s not, so stop beating yourself up. You’re taking blame that belongs to someone else.”
Her hands slid upward, over his shoulders and behind his neck. “I thought you were a hero before, and this doesn’t change anything. In my eyes, you’ll always be a hero.”
Warmth flooded him, and all he could think about was how beautiful she looked, with her hair windblown and her cheeks rosy from a day on the water, her eyes soft and pleading for him to believe her. He wrapped his arms around her waist, fighting against the longing to kiss her. She was a friend offering comfort. Nothing more. His thoughts were out of line.
Then she stood on her toes and planted a brief kiss on his lips.
And it was his undoing.
His arms tightened around her, and he pressed his mouth to hers, seeking the comfort and acceptance he craved. She gave him all he was looking for and more. She was solace from the demons of his past, a soothing balm for his tortured soul. But she offered healing for another part of him, as well—his heart. Both her words and her response to his kiss told him that she found him worthy and attractive, in spite of his physical shortcomings.
An unexpected woof preceded a not-so-gentle push by two front paws. He released Allison and stepped back. Her gaze met his for a brief moment, then dipped to the ground. Brinks stood at attention next to her, a mild warning in his dark eyes.
Blake gave an uneasy laugh. “Hey, you’re supposed to be my dog.”
She met his gaze with a shy smile. “You did give him the job of protecting me. He’s just doing what he’s been told.”
“He’s not supposed to protect you from me.”
She bent to pet the dog before heading back toward the cart. “We might have to work on that.”
He raised his brows. Did that mean she planned on more kisses? As much as he wanted them, now that he had gotten his head back on straight, he wasn’t sure that was a good idea. His motto had always been Keep It Casual. But he was having a hard time following his own creed.
He slid onto the seat, and Brinks jumped in behind him. “Thank you for listening. And for everything you said.”
“And thank you for sharing. It means a lot.” She started the cart and glanced over at him. “I suppose I should get you back.”
He searched her eyes, trying to read what she was feeling. Regret that she had let him kiss her like that?
No, what he saw wasn’t regret. More like confusion.
He felt more than a little of that himself.
There was something special developing between them. And he wanted more than anything to jump in and see where it would lead. Several scenarios ran through his mind, none of them casual.
Was he ready? Would he be willing to risk the kind of pain he swore he would never experience again?
If not, he needed to end things here and now, drawing the line at mere friendship.
> Before either of them got hurt.
NINE
Allison laced her sneakers, then pushed herself from the upholstered chair. Sunlight streamed in through the lace sheers, but Brinks didn’t appear in any hurry to get up. He lay nestled into the comforter, eyes closed, chin resting on his front paws.
Last night, instead of curling up in the chair, he had stood beside her bed, staring up at her. She had even tried to coax him onto the padded seat, but he wanted no part of it. Finally, she gave in, and he jumped up on the bed to settle in at her feet.
Now it was time for him to go out. So far, he hadn’t had a single accident. But she wasn’t going to chance it. She clapped her hands. “Come on, boy.”
Brinks opened one eye but otherwise didn’t move.
“Come on, let’s go for a walk.”
The dog instantly perked up. Walk was the magic word. He jumped from the bed and hit the floor with a thud, all eagerness and puppy energy, in spite of the short night. And it had been a short night. Blake hadn’t left until almost midnight.
The thought of Blake brought instant heat to her cheeks. What had she been thinking, kissing him like that? Worst of all, she had initiated it. She couldn’t help it. He had looked so lost and alone. So...wounded.
When he opened up and bared his soul, the barrier between them crumbled. At least on her end. It wasn’t until she was halfway home that her sanity returned. They were just friends. She wasn’t ready for anything more. And unless she had totally misread him, he wasn’t, either.
She sighed and headed down the stairs to where Brinks waited at the front door. After clipping on the leash, she followed him onto the front porch. Blake stood at the road, leaning against a light pole, phone pressed to his ear. He was dressed in gym shorts and a dry-wick shirt, the edges of his hair still damp from his workout. As she closed the door, a van drove past, hiding the soft thud, and he continued his conversation without turning.
Shattered Haven Page 11
