Backrush

by Jana DeLeon

  It’s just the storm.

  That was the logical explanation, because only a crazy person would be out in that weather. Besides, she reminded herself, no one but Aunt Bea, Brad, and the FBI knew she was here. She supposed anyone who’d known her well enough would assume she had headed back home, but none of those people concerned her. And since the FBI had repeatedly assured her that Warren had no reason to pursue action against her, that left no one who would care.

  She was safe here. Her mind repeated that mantra again and again.

  But her pounding heart didn’t buy it.

  Chapter Five

  Luke Ryan looked out his back window and surveyed the damage. The storm hadn’t lasted long, but it had been fierce. Palm fronds had been ripped from the trees and littered the deck. Patio chairs had made a solo trip across the dunes and now rested haphazardly on the side of the house, a row of sea oats the only thing preventing them from continuing on to Alabama. He chided himself for not putting the furniture in storage the night before or at least flipping it over so it wouldn’t catch easily in the gusts, but the weather report hadn’t called for anything so strong. Still, it was Florida and the Gulf of Mexico, and all bets were off when it came to coastal weather.

  He knew that better than most people.

  Now the clouds were gone, leaving a clear blue sky with the morning sun sparkling off the water. He opened the front door and headed outside, not bothering with shoes or shirt. Or shorts for that matter. The cottage next door was empty, and his patio wasn’t visible from the other cottage anyway. Since there were no other residences close by and tourist season hadn’t kicked in yet, there was no one around to see him. And even if someone happened to walk by on the beach, boxers looked like a bathing suit from a distance.

  He stepped onto the soft, cool sand to retrieve the lawn chairs and carried them to the deck at the back of the house where they belonged. Then he headed inside to make another pot of coffee and figure out what he was going to do with the rest of his day. He’d already watched the news and read some more of it online, answered email that needed addressing, started a load of laundry, eaten breakfast, and cleaned the bathroom. Picking up the palm fronds would take all of twenty minutes max and nothing else appeared to need attention.

  Which meant he had an entire day to himself. Again.

  He poured a cup of coffee and blew out a breath. He’d never heard of anyone dying from relaxation but if it was possible, he was fairly certain he’d be the first victim.

  Go to the beach, they said. Rest is what you need to recover, they said.

  After only two weeks, he’d decided that they were completely full of shit. Sitting around with nothing to do wasn’t relaxing. You didn’t burn any energy that way. You weren’t tired enough to work up to a good night’s sleep. You weren’t even tired enough to work up to a catnap. He headed back outside and sat in one of the patio chairs. Without realizing it, he rubbed his right knee. The line of scar tissue shook him out of his stupor, reminding him why he was there in all his sedentary glory.

  He pulled his hand away and sighed. There was no use going down that line of thought again. He’d already done it a million times, and doing it a million and one times wasn’t going to change facts. The reality was, his knee was better than the doctors thought it would ever be, but it would never be good enough to resume his position with the Navy. SEALs couldn’t be 95 percent. It was 110 percent or nothing. Other men’s lives depended on the physical conditioning and ability of every member of the team.

  At thirty-five years old, he was being forced to give up the only job he’d ever wanted.

  There were other duties he could take on, of course. But none of them would compare to the thrill of a five-mile swim to infiltrate enemy territory. Nothing would ever be as exciting as a drop from a helicopter into a churning ocean or a HALO jump with his team. Nothing would ever be as fulfilling as successfully completing a mission. The closest he could get to being a SEAL again would be training other men to do the job he wanted to do.

  He let out another sigh, then shook his head, mad at himself for indulging in yet one more pity party. It was time he stopped lamenting the things he couldn’t do and started figuring out which of his options he wanted to pursue. The problem was, he was having trouble working up even a flicker of enthusiasm for any of them.

  Maybe it was time to retire. If he couldn’t do what he wanted to do with the Navy, then what was the point of sticking around and watching other men do his job while he rehashed that last mission and every step he’d taken before that fateful shot had taken away his present and his future? If he was a civilian, the constant reminders wouldn’t be there. He wouldn’t have to see the eager faces of the new recruits every day. He wouldn’t think about everything he’d lost. About how being part of his team was the only time he’d felt like he had a family.

  He shook his head. Who was he kidding? He didn’t need outside visual reminders to know what he’d lost when all he had to do was look down at his own leg.

  A noise off to the left had him bolting up. The wind was long gone, so there was no chance that it had caused the clanking he’d heard. And the cottage behind the dune next to him was empty. It belonged to Beatrice Shaw, the nice, somewhat quirky lady who owned the bookstore downtown, as well as the cottage he was renting. But she’d assured him when he signed the rental agreement that the house next door was for her personal use only. He wouldn’t have to worry about vacationers disrupting his rehabilitation.

  But Bea would be opening her bookstore about now.

  So who was over there messing around? He and Bea had passed each other on the road the day before when he was on the way back from his grocery run. She’d waved and given him her pleasant smile as she drove past, and he’d assumed she had been next door doing one of the check-ups she did every week or so. There was no reason for her to be back so soon, especially since she had all her patio furniture for the other house locked up in the shed. There was nothing out to blow around in the storm.

  He hurried inside and grabbed his pistol off the kitchen counter, then slipped quietly through the sand around the dune. The sea oats on the side of the house provided the camouflage he needed to approach unseen. He slipped along the back side of the grass, crouching low and stopping periodically to listen, finally pinpointing the noise to the shed. He followed the row of grass until he was directly behind the shed, then moved through it and to the back of the building. It was clear from the noise inside that the trespasser was still there. He crept down the side of the shed and checked the front. It was clear.

  He ducked around the corner, then pivoted in the doorway, his gun leveled at what would be center mass on most people. “Stop right there,” he demanded.

  The woman holding a lawn chair screamed and dropped the chair on her foot, causing her to yelp. Clearly panicked, she scanned the shed, looking for either a weapon or an alternate way out. But neither was to be found. He sized her up, a bit confused. With her blond ponytail, white shorts, and turquoise tank, she didn’t look like any thief he’d ever seen. Her bare feet with bright pink toenail polish confirmed his assessment.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  “Alayna Scott,” she said, her voice shaking. “I have a hundred dollars in my purse inside, but that’s it. Please don’t shoot me.”

  He blinked. “Alayna? Bea’s niece?”

  She nodded.

  He dropped the gun and shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  Realizing now that he wasn’t a threat, her expression shifted from fear to outrage. “You didn’t mean to frighten me? Are you kidding? You came onto my aunt’s property and cornered me with a gun leveled at my heart. Any normal person would be terrified out of their wits.”

  A flash of guilt coursed through him. “I really am sorry. I’m renting the house next door, and Bea told me this place would be empty. I thought someone was breaking into the shed.”

  “And you planned on shoo
ting them for stealing old patio furniture? Seems a little extreme. Or are you in the habit of accosting women while brandishing a gun like you’re James Bond?”

  Her words should have made him mad. It was clear by her tone that they were meant to be insulting. But instead, he found himself doing something he hadn’t done in a very long time. He laughed.

  She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Then she shook her head and pushed past him.

  “I’m so glad you find me amusing, Mr.…?”

  “Ryan. Luke Ryan. And I don’t find you amusing at all, but I can appreciate the absurdity of the situation.”

  “I’m glad you can. If you’ll excuse me, I need to call my aunt and verify that she actually rented her house to a crazy person.”

  “Crazy? I told you I thought someone was robbing your aunt. How is protecting her property crazy?”

  She raised one eyebrow and gave him a look up and down. “Do you always parade around other people’s property wearing nothing but your boxers and a firearm?”

  Shit!

  “I was outside on the patio when I heard the noise,” he said, trying to explain. “I didn’t think—”

  “Not thinking seems to have occupied a large part of your morning. Maybe you should call it a day before someone gets hurt.”

  She walked into the house, closing the sliding glass door behind her, and he heard the lock click into place before she closed the blinds. He stared at the house for several seconds, wondering how his day had gone off the rails so quickly. Since he was short an answer, he headed through the dunes and back to his own stretch of sand.

  Bea had told him that her niece owned a restaurant in New York City. That she was a superb chef and had saved to open her own place in Manhattan, then found the financial backing to expand. Luke didn’t know anything about the restaurant business, but he understood that was no small feat. And Bea’s voice had been so filled with pride when she’d told him about Alayna. But the sultry blonde with the terrified turquoise eyes didn’t look at all like someone who stood in a hot kitchen all day.

  He shook his head and went into his house. It was too early for a beer, but a shot of whiskey in his coffee wasn’t the worst idea. In fact, given his choices so far, it was probably the best one he’d made today.

  Alayna snapped the blinds shut, careful not to look out at the man with the gun. Then she staggered over to the couch and sank down on it, trying to control her breathing before she launched into a full-on panic attack. When she’d heard his voice and saw the pistol, she’d thought it was over. That the FBI and the DA had been wrong, and Warren was about to exact his revenge.

  What in the world had he been thinking—creeping around with a gun? What if she’d been armed? Of course, her Mace wouldn’t have been any match for the pistol he’d been holding, but that wouldn’t have stopped her from trying to get a shot in. She’d taken self-defense classes. One of the first things the instructor stressed was to fight, claiming it was better for the family to have a body than a missing person. It was a cold way to view things, but she couldn’t argue with the logic.

  She concentrated on her breathing several more minutes and when she could no longer feel her heartbeat in her ears, she picked up her cell phone to call Aunt Bea. What had he said his name was—Luke something?

  “Alayna,” Bea answered, her smile sounding in her voice. “I’m so glad you got in last night. Is everything good at the house?”

  “Everything is wonderful, and thank you again for the groceries. You saved me from a chips-and-candy-bar dinner.”

  “I figured you’d drive straight through, only stopping for gas. I didn’t want you starving before I had a chance to visit with you.”

  “I’m afraid starvation isn’t the biggest threat around here.”

  “What? I don’t understand. Did the storm cause some damage?”

  “No. But your tenant next door almost gave me a heart attack. At least he claims he’s your tenant. I was getting the patio furniture out of the shed and apparently, he mistook me for a thief. He confronted me in the shed…with a gun.”

  “Oh no!” Bea said, clearly distressed. “I was going to call Luke yesterday and tell him you were coming, but I completely forgot. He wasn’t at home when I dropped off the key and the food, and I didn’t have time to wait because Nelly was covering for me at the store and she needed to leave. Then I forgot to call. I am so sorry. The misunderstanding is entirely my fault.”

  “It’s not your fault. You’re not the one who accosted me with a firearm. What do you know about him?”

  “He’s military, on medical leave. He’s under doctor’s orders to rest and relax, although he didn’t look pleased when he delivered that bit of information as I showed him the property. I get the impression he’s used to being a bit more, uh, physical. Sitting around doesn’t appear to be in his makeup.”

  “Clearly. He was so ready for action, he didn’t even bother to dress before he left.”

  Bea sucked in a breath. “He was naked?”

  Her aunt’s voice sounded a little too hopeful and not nearly enough dismayed.

  “No!” Alayna said. “He had on boxers, but that was it. Boxers and a gun.”

  “Sounds like the beginning of a Hallmark movie,” Bea said.

  “Don’t even go there. Romance and I are not a good mix. I’m going to get my life together, then I’m getting a polite golden retriever and calling things done.”

  There was a slight pause. “That’s it?” Bea said finally. “You’re only thirty-three years old, and you plan on sharing the rest of your life with a dog?”

  “No. I might get a bird, too. I’ve always wanted a parrot, and since they talk, all my needs would be fulfilled. Someone to cuddle with. Someone to talk to. See? I have it all figured out.”

  “Not all your needs would be covered.”

  Alayna felt a blush run up her neck. “I’m sure I’ll manage.”

  “I’m sorry, dear. I don’t mean to push. It’s probably my own lack of male company that’s driving me to romantic notions.”

  “I thought you were dating a guy from the post office. Sam, right?”

  “I was, but he moved to Pasadena to be near his daughter.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “Oh, it’s no big deal. We weren’t that attached, but it was nice to have a man to go out and do things with. Sometimes I get tired of hearing a bunch of women bitch.”

  Alayna smiled. “Well, then don’t come visit me. I’m afraid I haven’t had much to be happy about lately.”

  “You’ve been through a rough time, but all that’s going to change now. You’re home. Sun, sand, and a nice ocean breeze will fix everything.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m always right. So how did he look in his boxers?”

  Bea hung up the phone and Nelly, her best friend, employee, and sometimes fill-in manager for the store, stared at her, one eyebrow raised.

  “Just hearing half of that conversation has me interested,” Nelly said. “Spill? The most exciting thing I’ve had happen this week is the grocery store put raspberries on sale. Words like ‘boxers’ and ‘naked’ might give me a hot flash.”

  Bea laughed. “I think we’re both a bit beyond the hot flash days. Thank God. Who needs more heat when we live at the beach?”

  “Lord, isn’t that the truth. So about this naked thing…”

  Bea recounted Alayna’s story to a completely entertained Nelly.

  “That was exciting,” Nelly said when she was finished. “Although I wish she’d have doled out a little more in the description department. Concerning the boxers, not the gun. I’ve seen plenty of guns.”

  Bea frowned. “You know, I’m wondering if maybe she didn’t notice as much as she would have otherwise. I mean, a strange man holding a gun on you would scare anyone with some sense, but given what she’s been through…”

  “Oh no!” Nelly’s expression shifted from amused to distressed. “I didn’t
even think about that. Do you think she’s worried that awful man will send someone after her?”

  “I don’t know. The FBI and DA assured her that she was way down on the list of people that scumbag would have to eliminate in order to help his case, but I think she’s still worried about it. She’s always been careful about things, you know? My girl is no fool. But this is different. I’ll bet she didn’t come out of that apartment of hers except for lawyer appointments and such. And she refused to drive after dark on the way here. I know that’s probably smart, but it’s not at all the Alayna who left here. That Alayna was fearless.”

  “But the FBI and DA think she’s safe, right? That other witnesses are bigger fish?”

  “That’s my understanding. But none of the others were in a personal relationship with Warren, so…”

  “Of course,” Nelly said. “It makes sense she’d still worry. I would. How bad do you think things are? Do you think she’ll go back to New York?”

  Bea shook her head. “I don’t know. She hasn’t talked much about it. I know her restaurant closed back when this all went down because I saw the notice on the website. But I figured that was because of the investigation or the media blitz that was following her around. I don’t know if that was a temporary requirement or not. She didn’t offer up any details about it, and I didn’t want to ask.”

  Nelly nodded. “I think that was probably best.”

  “I suppose, except for the part where I don’t really know anything and it’s driving me crazy. I never pushed because she was there and I was here, and no way in hell she was letting me go up there to look after her. I was praying every day that when she got free of all that, she’d come home. But I didn’t want to give her any reason to head somewhere else if she decided to bail, so I didn’t pester her with my questions. I offered money but she said she didn’t need it and several times, I said I’d go up there and help her handle things, but she wouldn’t hear of it.”

  “Probably mortified by the whole thing and didn’t want you to see it all firsthand.”