Sea Glass Cottage (13 page)

H
er disturbing dream and her talk with Scott had Isabella up doing busywork until almost seven. She scrubbed the kitchen floor that didn’t really need cleaning. Her knee was recovering nicely but not enough to get down on all fours so she used a mop she dragged around the tile.

She dusted the entire house, put away the books she’d bought and intended to read before moving on to tackling her closet. Since she’d only been here a few months there wasn’t much to straighten or organize and yet she did it anyway before finally dropping into bed, the nervous energy drained out of her.

Several hours later when her eyes fluttered open it was to hear someone banging on her front door.

Instinct had her reaching into the nightstand for the gun inside the drawer. Hastily she threw on a robe, headed out to see who it was, gripping the nine millimeter. Somewhere between her bedroom and the entryway she realized it was more than likely Thane and Jonah. Peering through the peephole to be sure, she was disappointed to see Logan. Without bothering to hide the pistol, she turned the lock.

“I was about to kick in the door or call Brent to do it for me,” the sculptor asserted with some heat. He angled his head to eye the weapon. “Glad I didn’t.”

“And you would do that why?”

“It’s almost ten o’clock. I got worried when you didn’t answer my text messages. I made up a story to drop in on Thane thinking maybe you’d spent the night there.”

“Oh, for God’s sakes.” She swept her hair back and blinked more awake. “Obviously you need to slow down. You’re way ahead of me. If you want a decent conversation, I’ll need several shots of caffeine. I’ve been up for hours and I haven’t even had…”

“I can take care of the coffee.”

“Good, then I’ll go get dressed.” She carried the firearm back to the nightstand, easing it into place, before heading into the bathroom to splash cold water on her face. Her image in the mirror told her what she already knew. The cold water didn’t make her look any less tired or haggard.

After throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweater, Isabella followed the smell of fresh-brewed beans to where Logan had made himself at home at the kitchen table, sipping from his own cup.

“What’s on your mind?” she wanted to know as she got down a mug.

“I heard from Inspector Cosford.”

She blew out a loud sigh. “And?”

“It’s official. He’s lost track of Henry.”

“Again? Damn it. Why does that not surprise me? How is it one man can slip through what amounts to an international net that’s supposedly looking for him?”

She sat down at the table across from her landlord, took the first sip of strong brew. “We always knew that was a possibility though, that Henry could disappear off the radar and we’d lose the upper hand.”

“I know, but I’m still not prepared to accept the incompetence of the cops. Is it too much to ask that they ought to know where the son of a bitch went. The authorities keep acting as though he’s normal when he’s anything but.”

“Maybe someone in his family paid them off. Did you consider that?”

“Of course I did. But it’s my belief what’s left of his family is slowly losing patience with him. If he’s getting assistance at all it’s more than likely coming from Henry’s rogue buddies in the terrorist community. They’d no doubt go the extra mile to protect him.”

Isabella nodded. “To keep Henry’s family’s money flowing into the ETA organization, even though they’ve officially disbanded. I get it. You do know that Henry was never actually a terrorist himself, don’t you? He simply likes to think of himself as one. He’s more into exploiting others for personal gain. Devoting energy to anyone but himself isn’t in his nature.”

He stared at her over the rim of his cup. “You know him pretty well. But it doesn’t matter if he’s active or not. He still contributes heavily to the Basque cause despite their ceasefire and agreement to end the violence. For Henry it’s a status.”

“Exactly. He still has friends who are active in the separatist group and willing to do whatever it takes for him in friendship.”

“That’s why it makes the most sense they’d be the ones getting him in and out of the country whenever he gets an itch to leave.”

“So what do we do about picking up his trail again? Stick to the initial plan or alter our course?”

“Why deviate now?”

“Because it isn’t working.”

“Maybe you’ve changed your mind. Maybe you like Delacourt more than you’re willing to admit.”

“So what if I do? You have Kinsey, a family you treasure. What do I have?”

“Sorry. You’re right. Losing track of Henry has me…irritated. To answer your question about what we do, we tighten things up around here. The tourist season in town is virtually over. So any strangers coming around will stick out from the norm. I’ve decided to install a gate at the foot of the hill.”

She tossed him a dubious look. “That’s a little extreme even for you, don’t you think? And totally unnecessary, not to mention fairly ridiculous. Henry would simply find a way around it.” Eyeing Logan’s stubborn set to his jaw, she went on, “You know it’s true. Think about it. He could just as easily drive farther up the Coast Highway and veer off to the west, come through the woods near the B&B, make his way up to my front door in a roundabout fashion. You can’t very well make this place a secure compound, Logan. It just isn’t feasible.”

“I can try.”

“Don’t. I’m a big girl. I’m not that same woman I was three years ago either. I’m stronger.” She discounted her fear last night at not wanting to walk home alone in the dark. Taking away the panic then, she was determined to put up a strong front. “I’m armed and not afraid to fight back, remember?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Sometimes that isn’t enough. Maybe we should go see Brent. Get him in the loop.”

“Since you know him better than I do that’s your call, I suppose. But the less people who know, the better chance at success we have.” She paused and said with a bite of humor, “Scott knows. I don’t think he’ll blab though.”

“Scott? You’re kidding?” Logan sent her a lingering glare over his cup. “So he’s been skulking around here like a—”

“Ghost? Yeah. Don’t knock it. Scott makes me feel a lot safer.”

Logan dropped a shoulder. “Women. I’ll never understand the female mind. Which brings me to ask the question. What’s the deal with Thane Delacourt anyway?”

“Sheesh. Really? It’s no one’s business but my own. Not even yours. How’s that for an answer?” After several long seconds, she added, “The whole town knows I went over there last night to apologize? How? Never mind. Look, I was rude earlier in the day. I felt the need to explain my behavior. I had dinner, watched a cute, animated movie, and stayed later than I should have. That’s it.”

“Sure it is.”

Isabella sipped her coffee, looked over the rim. “If the government could only harness the power of small town gossip we’d have a decent shot at world peace.”

“Ain’t that the truth. You like this guy?”

“What’s not to like? His kid is fairly adorable, too.”

“Getting attached wasn’t part of the plan.”

“Neither was losing track of Henry.”

Thane had been
up for hours, restless and moody, with a nagging sense he needed to call Isabella and check up on her.

The note hadn’t surprised him nor had it explained a lot about her state of mind. He should probably go up to the cottage to see how she was doing, use some made-up excuse. But first he had to come up with one. The fact that he wanted to see her again, spend time alone with her, and eventually take her to bed didn’t seem like the right fit.

To get his mind off that, as he’d promised, he took Jonah to the beach. Their trips had a ritual that went with the fun. Before ever getting in the water, sunscreen went on first. Next, they took the time to wax their boards to assure better footing. They spent fifteen minutes stretching the muscles and loosening up. Then they made sure the fins were set depending on the surf. This morning the waves weren’t high or intimidating but surfing with a six-year-old, Thane had to be cognizant of where the boy was at all times. He let him slap the leash on his ankle by himself and the two paddled out, side by side.

“He’s pretty good for his age,” Malachi Rafferty said from eight feet away as he watched Jonah dip into a barrel and soar through it.

“He’s improved a lot over the summer. He’s able to maintain his balance for longer,” Thane admitted, feeling a pride he didn’t know was there.

“I bet you can’t wait for him to be old enough to play football.”

“Actually, I’m not sure I want him going anywhere near a field that requires him to put on a helmet and pads.”

“Really?”

Thane stared at the familiar face. He knew Malachi used to play with the band, Bridge Omega, but not many in town knew Malachi’s secret. Malachi had been a major part of Bridge Omega’s selling millions of CDs. Thane had no intentions of ratting out the stellar guitarist or asking what had brought him to a place like Pelican Pointe.

“Yeah, really. I’ve seen too many head and neck injuries to get excited about my son taking up the game. It’ll be up to him, of course, if he wants to try and make a team later on when he’s older.”

“By the way I’m supposed to ask you, if you ever need a sitter, I have two teenagers who are both chomping at the bit to earn some extra spending money.”

“Are they old enough to babysit?”

Malachi shrugged, not very excited about the prospect of his daughters taking on responsibility with someone else’s kid. “Sonoma’s the oldest at fourteen. Sonnet’s thirteen. They just had a birthday last week. They’re eleven months apart. You hire them, you get the pair.”

“Let me think about it. Jonah’s very…energetic.”

“I hear ya,” Malachi grumbled, wading out of the surf. From over his shoulder, he added, “You think it’s tough now with a six-year-old just wait until he’s a teenager.”

Even wearing a wetsuit that thought gave Thane chills. Because he knew Malachi’s wife, Melody, had died three years earlier from cancer, Thane had something on his mind. “Could I ask you a question single father to single father? It’s sort of personal.”

“Sort of? Sure, as long as I don’t have to talk about my years in the band.”

“It isn’t that. How exactly do you date with kids?”

“That’s easy. I don’t. Every Saturday night I close the shop and head to Santa Cruz to play live music at a little dive off the Coast Highway. There’s a woman there who I’ve known for a couple years. She waitresses at the bar. If the girls tag along with me, then daddy doesn’t get any that night, if you know what I mean. If the girls stay at home, I go back to my friend’s place for a few hours but I never spend the night.” 

“How does this waitress handle that arrangement?”

“Thankfully she isn’t looking for a commitment and neither am I.”

“And if she were?”

“Then I’m afraid I’d have to break it off.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not serious about her and my girls deserve better than that.”

“Thanks for the honesty, Malachi. I’m grateful.”

“No problem. I’d like to add something if I could.”

“What?”

“Don’t let the wagging tongues set the parameters.”

“Good advice. I know a lot about wagging tongues.”

“I know you do but tabloids are nothing compared to the gossip in a small town.”

Later, father and son were standing knee-deep in bay water, when Jonah looked up at the cliffs and pointed. “Look Daddy, there’s Izzy at the top.”

Sure enough, he gazed upward and there she stood at the edge of the cliffs looking like an exotic goddess surveying her domain from high on the hill. The image forged a searing reminder that his libido needed a fix.

On their way back to the house, Thane passed by Tradewinds Boatyard. From inside he heard the sounds of guitar-busting hard rock beating a competition with whirling power tools. An idea formed.

“Come on, Jonah, let’s go in here and see these guys for a minute.”

The place was jumping. Ryder was in one corner working on a spinnaker, Zach in another laboring over a galley module, while Troy shaped a piece of teak wood.