Half Moon Harbor (31 page)

I
t was The Moment. The one Grace had been wondering about. The one when she'd know, when she'd figure out what she really wanted, or more to the point, what she was willing to do to get it. And there it was. Right in front of her. Wearing a tight melon suit and designer heels.

She'd never thought Cami Winstock would be the final piece to the puzzle, but then, did that matter? What mattered was, in that moment, when Cami threw down her overly tweezed and made-up and Botox-enhanced gauntlet, Grace didn't even have to think twice about snatching it right up and taking a big ol' swing with it.

“Cami—” Brodie said, teeth gritting, at the same moment Grace stalked—
stalked—
across the short space between her and the melded twosome. He didn't even have time to peel Cami off before Grace took care of that little matter for him.

“Excuse me,” she said, taking Cami by the shoulder and spinning her around.

Only because Cami had been stunned by the move was she yanked and spun so easily. Well, that and the fact that the tottering heels she was wearing didn't do very well on bare cypress planking. She wobbled quite a few comical steps before gathering herself and her swinging little matching purse. She whirled back around, her gaze settling on Brodie, not Grace. “You're going to let her
manhandle
me? Since when do you let a woman fight your battles?”

Brodie stepped forward, apparently freed from his frozen statue status. He switched easily and swiftly to angry protective male and appeared to have every intent of escorting Cami from the premises.

But Cami whirled on Grace and it was her turn to stalk.
She got her sea legs quickly,
Grace thought, reacting a split second too late as Cami swung a hand and slapped her square across the cheek with the open flat of her palm.

Brodie launched himself toward them, but Grace lifted a hand. “No.” When he looked as if he was going to do what he damn well pleased anyway, she said, “No! This isn't your battle.” She turned to Cami. And smiled. “It's mine.”

Once again Cami turned her gaze to Brodie, apparently fully expecting him to defend her, only to gape when he looked at Grace, then lifted his hands and stepped back. “You only get one swing, Camille,” he warned quietly.

Deadly quiet,
Grace thought.

“And you've used that one up.” He glanced at Grace, winked, and motioned for her to continue.

Cami swung back to Grace, putting her purse into the motion. Though Brodie reacted on instinct to leap in and snag it, Grace was closer. And faster. She grabbed the purse and twisted it, which torqued the chain handle, then used that leverage to spin Cami into her body—two moves that Cami definitely hadn't seen coming. Grace yanked Cami's bound arms up behind her back and planted her chin on the shorter woman's shoulder.

Pressing her mouth close to Cami's ear, Grace said slowly and distinctly, “I'm only going to tell you this one time. I don't appreciate how you used me to play some twisted game of cat-and-mouse with Brodie. We've come to terms with it, and now I'm going to come to terms with you. I definitely don't appreciate a woman—any woman—coming in, unannounced and uninvited, to the private quarters I'm sharing with my significant other and draping herself all over him like some cheap whore.” She leaned closer and tightened her hold when Cami struggled at the insult. “The next time you think about sticking your tongue where it doesn't belong, you better pray I'm not around anything with a sharp edge on it.”

Cami's face had initially gone beet red with fury. Now it was pale white.

“Do we have an understanding?” When Cami didn't reply, Grace gave a little jerk to the chain.

Cami nodded, then through gritted teeth growled,
“Let . . . me . . . go.”

“Sure. But then it's do not pass go, do not cop so much as another gaze at this man, and head straight to the exit.” She released the chain, stepping back at the same time.

Cami stumbled at the sudden shift, but righted herself quickly. She kept her gaze on Grace, her eyes hot coals. “You think you've scored some hot piece of ass by playing Buffy the Vampire Slayer or something in front of your little boyfriend here.” She paused. “Emphasis on the word
boy
. Letting you fight his battles. It's pathetic. You deserve each other.” She all but spat the last words out. “However, if you think there will be no repercussions, She-Ra, that's where you are sadly mistaken.”

“Okay, I'm done,” Brodie said matter-of-factly. He took Cami's arm, held on tighter when she tried to jerk it free, and double-stepped her straight through the open panel door, where he promptly let her go, then wiped his hands on his pants, as if needing to clean them. “Don't threaten me, don't threaten Grace. Before you run to Daddy so he can fight your battles—If you want to talk pathetic, getting your own father to pimp for you?” He made a
tsk
ing sound. “That's not only pathetic, it's disgusting.”

“The only schooner you'll be building will be the kind they shove in a glass bottle,” Cami said, shaking with rage and indignation.

“Now, now. That sounds like a threat. And you're standing on my property.” He looked over his shoulder. “Grace, darling? Where did I put my gun?”

Cami made a smirking face; then, when he swung a cold smile back at her, seemed to reconsider how serious he might be and took several steps down the short path to the docks. “It won't be your property for long. Mark my words. Daddy will take his business elsewhere, and if I can't sell the rest of this godforsaken place out from under you, I'll buy it my goddamn self.” She looked past him to Grace. “You two have made yourselves the wrong enemy here. I'll see to it that neither of you earns so much as a single dollar from anyone in Blueberry Cove or anywhere else. When you run back to Ireland with your tail between your legs, please take that two-bit—”

That was as far as she got. Brodie moved so fast even Grace was amazed. His hand went over Cami's mouth and his face was up in hers so fast both women's eyes went as wide as they could go. “Enough,” he bit out.

“Yes, is this Chief McRae?” Grace said loudly into her cell phone. “We have a trespasser here. She's making personal and physical threats and refuses to leave. Could you send a cruiser please? Who is it? Camille Weathersby.”

Grace paused and went to stand in the open panel doorway. “Sirens?” She smiled as Brodie kept a lock grip on Cami's arm, and let his hand off her mouth just in time for a string of exceedingly foul language to erupt . . . straight into the receiver Grace held out so helpfully. “Yes, yes she is definitely dangerous. We're afraid here. Very afraid,” she added calmly. “Don't be worried about causing a scene. Just get here fast. And with great force.” She paused. “Yes, Chief. We appreciate it. Yes, I'll hold.”

“How
dare
you?” Cami said. Since Blueberry was a very small town and the sirens were already echoing in the distance, she made a quick retreat. “You haven't heard the last of this,” she screeched over her shoulder as she took quick, tiny little steps over the planks, then the gravel lot at the far end of the property.

“Oh, but at least I've had the last of you,” Brodie said under his breath.

Grace ducked under his arm and he pulled her tight up against him. Once Cami had peeled her little Audi coupe out of the lot, spinning gravel and shouting more epithets at them, he turned and wrapped Grace in a fierce hug.

“Don't ever do that again,” he demanded, and she could feel his heart pounding hard against her chest. Then he leaned back and shot her a grin so wide and so wicked, she could only grin back. “Where the hell did you learn that maneuver? And thank you, by the way, for demonstrating on someone else before you were forced to use it on me.”

“From Ford after his first tour. I begged him to show me some of the close-quarters combat maneuvers and he finally gave in. At the time, I thought it was just to shut me up, but I think he realized the situation I was in, and that it wasn't stable. He'd already re-upped and was going back overseas, so . . .” She lifted a shoulder.

“Well, I owe him a debt of gratitude for giving you what he could to help you protect yourself.” Brodie looked as if he was uncertain about what he wanted to ask, but then he relented. “Was it like that for you? Did you have to defend yourself? Physically?”

She shook her head. “I mean in school, sometimes. Bullies love the new kid, and I was always the new kid. But no, I wasn't so much a victim of any kind of physical abuse as I was just neglected. Completely.”

“Ah, Gracie,” he said, pulling her in, bussing her on the forehead. When she stiffened, he pulled immediately back. “Dammit, your cheek. Let's get some ice.”

“No, it's not that. She really didn't get that much contact. I—Ford taught me how to absorb a hit, to move with it and not deflect it, so it looked a lot worse than it was. It wasn't that, it was . . . Ford used to call me Gracie. Well, I guess he still does because—” She looked off, then laughed and looked up, and blinked a few times. “It's nothing, it's okay.”

“No, it's his. I can respect that.” Brodie tucked her close and they went inside and closed the door. The ringing of Grace's phone still clutched in her hand startled them both. She'd forgotten she was holding for the police to arrive. “Hi. I'm sorry. Yes, she's left the premises. I'm not sure where she went. No, no, we don't need to file a report. Thank you, though. Yes, I promise to call back if she comes back on the property. You have my absolute word on that.” She hung up and looked at Brodie. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, she felt mildly queasy and a bit shaky. “Do you think I really screwed things up for us? Her family is pretty powerful.”

“I don't know. But I do know that she's not well liked. No one has run against her husband for town council because of his connections to the Winstocks, but no one likes him, either. Brooks, I think, is more respected, but if word were to get out that he was actually trying to facilitate his daughter's extracurricular liaisons—”

Grace gaped, then winced. Maybe her cheek was a little more bruised than she'd thought. Along with the adrenaline leaving, the feeling was coming back to her face. “You weren't kidding about that?”

“Oh, I would never kid about anything like that.”

“I mean, I'd heard, you know, the gossip about her, but her own
father
? Really? That's sick.”

“I think they see it purely as business leverage.”

“Which is even more disgusting.” She turned and pulled Brodie around to face her. “If I ruined your chance to build that schooner—”

“Shh.” He leaned down and kissed her gently on the mouth, then tugged her over to the kitchen and pulled out a chair. “Sit. I'll make an ice pack.” He pulled a bottle of painkillers from the cupboard and a bottle of water from the fridge. “Here.” He set about making the cold pack, talking over the rattling sound of the ice. “It wouldn't have mattered. I had no intention of allowing her anywhere near me, despite the arrangement I had with her father, and I'd already let him know that. So she was either going to sneak around and do her evil deeds to get back at me or do what she did today. I have to say, that while I didn't much care for the first part, the second part”—grinning, he wheeled around from the counter and handed Grace the ice pack—“that part pretty much kicked ass. Literally.”

Grace pressed the pack to her cheek, winced at the cold, then sighed in relief as it started to soothe the bruised skin.

He grimaced as he looked more closely at her cheek. “You could press charges.”

Grace shook her head. “I think I've made things bad enough.” She smiled with half her mouth. “Besides, I think we're pretty even. I wasn't particularly kind with that arm maneuver.”

Brodie smiled, but there was a look of serious concern there, too.

Grace reached over and put her hand on his arm. “I really am sorry about that part. I know you say it was inevitable, but no way is this not worse than it would have been.”

“You know, I don't know about that. Maybe it was going to take something like this to finally get through her head. Like I said, they're not well liked. The fact that you called the police means that word will get out.”

“But I didn't tell them anything. I mean, not anything juicy.”

“Won't matter. I'm sure the town gossips will take great pleasure in filling in the blanks.” He glanced at her. “If you happen to have a conversation with someone on your phone, say Langston . . . or even the dial tone . . . and you mention some of the details in private, only within hearing distance of even one of your crew? You're a town legend overnight.”

“My crew? But they're a bunch of guys.”

Brodie gave her pitying look. “Worst of the bunch. Have you met Fergus McCrae? He's second only to Delia.” He snapped his fingers. “There you go. Talk to your new friend Delia. Woman to woman.”

At that, Grace whipped her head to the brass clock on the wall. “I forgot she's coming over to talk to me about Ford after she gets the dinner shift done and night shift started.”

Grace relaxed when she realized that was still a few hours away yet. “I don't know if I'm up to that tonight. It's been . . . a hell of a day.” She glanced at Brodie. “So, this thing with Cami. I take it this isn't the first time she's tried to have her womanly way with you. You rejected her. That's why she screwed you over with the boathouse deal.”

“It's as good a guess as any. She more or less confirmed it.”

“She said you were going to use the contract money to get up to speed on the taxes and clear up the ownership on the rest of the property.”