Storm Surge (23 page)

Clutching the mug against her stomach, Felicia leaned back into the cushioned chair. “Do you remember your parents arguing? Do you remember seeing your father hit her?”

“I—” Paige stopped, recalling her thought processes on the beach a few nights past, and often since. She shook her head. “I never did. I guess he hesitated to do it in front of me. That would have made me a witness. As for the arguing, well, yeah, of course they did, but I can’t call to mind anything more than the normal type of quarrel except in the days immediately before. I’m not sure. How can I be? It was sixteen years ago. I do know that I didn’t want other kids coming around. That had to mean something.”

“I’m sure it did.”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “What are you trying to tell me, Felicia? I spent more than half of my lifetime far away from here because my mother was in fear of my father.”

“No, Deb stayed away to keep you safe.”

“My father would never have hurt me!” Paige’s hand flew to her mouth, shocked at her own vehemence. She’d never said those words aloud before. On and off she’d believed them, coveted them like a talisman against her feelings of abandonment, but to admit them out loud seemed to betray her mother. “Debra Waters lived in fear of her husband,” Paige stated quietly.

“Did she?”

Paige’s vision glimmered with angry tears. “Of course she did.”

“Did she say as much to you?”

“Of course she did.” Paige considered, remembering past doubts. “She didn’t like to talk about it! When I asked questions, it upset her, and she would…she would tell me everything was all right. To not ask. To let it go…”

Shoulders slumping, Paige dropped her head into her hands, shoved her fingers into her hair, and pulled it from the clip binding the locks at her nape. Across from her, Felicia stood and walked to a cabinet against the living room wall. She opened the door and removed a bottle that she carried back to the coffee table. She poured a bit into Paige’s tea. The strong smell of alcohol reached her nostrils.

“Whiskey,” said Felicia. “It won’t kill you.”

Paige peered up at her. “It’s not even three yet, is it?”

“Who gives a crap? Drink it. You’re going to need it. Me, too.” She poured a healthy dose into her own mug, then screwed the cap back on and set the bottle on the table before she sat back down.

Paige pulled the tea nearer and leaned over it, breathing in liquor’s hard, sweet scent. She’d wanted answers and was very much afraid she was going to get them. With determination, she brought the mug up to her lips and downed the contents. An immediate coughing fit followed, but warmth spread from her belly to her limbs within a few seconds.

“Better?”

Paige wiped her hand across her lips. “Better.”

“You might want another one.”

“I’ll wait.”

Felicia reached into the box and drew a photograph out. “Nice dress. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“Ashford,” said Paige with a snort of suppressed laughter.

“Ash-what?”

“Don’t ask. I think his parents had pretensions.”

Felicia dropped the photo back into the box. “Your father wanted to know about your life. Deb couldn’t contact him directly so I was the go-between.”

“He wanted to know about…me?” Paige frowned down into her empty mug. She reached for the bottle and poured an inch of liquid into the bottom.

“Want a little soda with that?”

“Nope.”

“It’s your funeral. Water and aspirin for dinner, got that?”

“Got it. And pancakes. Don’t people eat pancakes when they’ve been drinking?”

“Yeah, I suppose they do.”

Paige leaned back into the sofa, wincing at the discomfort in her bruised hip. She clutched the mug to her breast, planning to nurse the whiskey inside. She didn’t relish a possible hangover. “Go on.”

“They probably would have divorced, your mom and dad, if things hadn’t happened the way they did. But they remained married for all those years apart.”

Paige waited. She didn’t think she could ask a sensible question with the information she’d been given because none of the dots appeared to connect. It wasn’t the alcohol confusing her since she wasn’t drunk, but she decided she would be before too much longer. If she’d been less cowardly, she might have chosen sobriety for a conversation she sensed was about to change her life.

Be brave, Paige.

Mom, I’m afraid.

Pushing the mental conversation with her deceased mother from her brain, Paige focused on Felicia in her chair. “What did happen?”

“Deb—your mom—had an affair.”

“What?” Paige gulped a mouthful of liquid from her cup, squinting as it burned its way down her throat.

“I don’t condone it. I didn’t then. But that’s what happened.”

Paige frowned. “That’s it? That’s your explanation for everything? For why Dad beat her? Or was the abuse the reason she went outside the marriage? I really, really don’t understand where you’re going with this.”

Felicia leaned forward, dumped a shot of liquor in her cup, another in Paige’s, and sat back. “This story’s only just beginning, and your father never touched your mother. He wouldn’t have laid a finger on her. It was her lover who did that.”

* * * *

Liam’s cell vibrated in his pocket. He yanked the phone out and checked the caller ID. Paige. With a glance toward the activity below, Liam texted that he would call soon. After a second, he forwarded another advising her to dial 911 if it was an emergency and then call him again. Otherwise, they would talk later. He’d almost stowed the phone away when her reply pulsed in his hand.

K. Lts to tell. Ned to tlk. xo

He frowned at the errors in the text. Or were they meant to be abbreviations? He knew she’d gone to spend the afternoon with an old friend of her mother. Even if Paige hadn’t told him, the undercover cop tailing her had relayed where she’d gone and that she remained there safely. That had been hours ago. The day had come and gone with night settling down like a stifling blanket.

Liam shoved the phone into his pocket, wiping his brow with his forearm afterward. The men below moved in near silence, speech truncated and barely discernible over the thundering waves. They worked without benefit of illumination with the exception of the flashlights utilized once inside the entrance of the cave, a cave that wouldn’t be visible come high tide. Even the flashlights were held in such a way as to center the beams inward, with no more than a flash to be glimpsed by anyone out on the water. Had they been more sophisticated, they would have used night vision goggles, but they worked in much the same manner men had since the first pirates and privateers had moved illicit goods from ships to the caves all along the shoreline around Alcina Cove.

Tonight, the crates being moved into temporary hiding below held weapons. The usual operation was taking place. Store the cache away from prying eyes, wait until the appointed day, and restore the crates to the ship for an exchange out on the water. It wasn’t safe to keep the goods in a warehouse and certainly not on the ship while it was still being used for other jobs. Liam had been involved in these exchanges for nearly six months, waiting for the right one.

A stone shifted with a sharp clatter, striking another. Liam turned his head. He saw a familiar silhouette against the sky behind and waited until it had neared.

“Why aren’t you down there?” A harsh whisper.

Liam shrugged. “You posted me as lookout. Make up your mind.” Liam played a dangerous game with his disrespect but it also kept the bastard on his toes. Raleigh never knew quite what to make of Liam, how far Liam would go. But with Edwin gone, Raleigh needed Liam in order to continue operations in the cave on his property. Liam remembered again the day Raleigh had approached him with suspiciously blasé
questions about the natural features of the area, not as if they were new to him, but as if he were
feeling Liam out. The moment couldn’t have been more opportune. Liam had followed through with arrangements for the cave’s use, including making every effort to keep people off the beach. With Raleigh’s mercurial personality, though, Liam wasn’t sure how long he could count on remaining in the man’s tentative good graces. He hoped he wouldn’t have to find out.

“Some lookout. I crept right up on you.”

“No,” said Liam, keeping his voice low. “You didn’t. If you had, you’d be lying on the rocks right now with a broken neck.”

“Bullshit.”

Liam said nothing, continuing to observe the work transpiring on the narrow stretch of beach by the cave. He heard the snick of something metal and tensed, but after a moment Raleigh chuckled. “You’ve got balls, Gray, I’ll give you that. Being a ladies’ man, though, I don’t have much use for anybody’s balls but my own.”

The muscles in Liam’s abdomen tightened. “So I’ve heard.”

“Yeah, and I know a bit more about you than you’d probably like, but we’ll talk about that another time.”

“Confessions before you try to kill me?”

For a full half minute, Raleigh didn’t speak. Liam’s entire body tensed in preparation for attack. He wondered if he’d gone too far, but he didn’t care. He’d recently found himself grown impatient with waiting for the final strike.

“Wouldn’t be the first time, but I usually don’t bother with pretty speeches beforehand.”

Liam’s shoulders didn’t relax, not even a little. “I’ve heard that, too.”

“Anything you heard,” said Raleigh, before beginning a descent to the beach, “is only half the story.”

And therein existed the problem. In order to make good on six months’ careful planning, waiting for all the pieces to come together in order to grab every player, what he needed—what
they
needed—was more than half the story. They needed it all.

Nearby, a tray dropped. Paige flinched behind sunglasses at the ungodly clatter. Letting her breath out, she speared the cut, stacked pancake triangles laden with syrup and forced them into her mouth. Dan and Liam had arrived at the diner two minutes ago, one right after the other, and were exchanging heated words in an undertone by the entrance. The heck with them and whatever man business made them act like a pair of idiots. She shoveled in another mouthful of her breakfast.

When their legs paused beside the table, Paige set her fork down. “Gentlemen.”

“Slide over, would you?”

Paige made room for Liam. Dan took the seat opposite. He placed his elbows on the table, vibrating the utensils. Paige winced.

“Hungover?” asked Dan.

“Yeah,” she said, “a bit.”

“Why, did you have more than half a beer?” Liam said beside her.

She mopped pancake through syrup puddles, then set the fork down on her plate. “Split half a fifth of scotch whiskey with Felicia.”

Dan whistled. Paige squeezed her eyes shut. “My freaking hair hurts.” She lifted her right eyelid in time to catch one of those damned inscrutable looks between Liam and Dan. She didn’t possess the energy to question it. Liam’s arm came up across the back of the booth, his fingers settling on her left shoulder. Even that hurt, but she kept quiet.

Both men waited to place orders for coffee with the waitress before interrogating her again. She went back to eating, slowly and steadily, keeping her head down.

“So,” said Dan, dumping a huge amount of sugar into his coffee cup. “What have you found out?”

Paige pushed her plate away, fighting nausea. “I would have called last night, but I passed out on Felicia’s couch. And stop looking at each other like that. What is it with you two?”

Liam stroked her shoulder through her blouse. She bit her lip. “Was she able to tell you much?” he asked.

“She was able to tell me…everything.” Emotion clogged her throat. She picked up the ice water and drank—all of it—and asked for more. “Dad never hit my mom.”

“But the report—”

“Screw the report.” Paige recoiled at the noise her own voice made inside her head. “It wasn’t him. It was…it was her boyfriend. Her lover. The man she was having an affair with. And don’t you look at each other. Look at me. I’m the one talking.”

Liam leaned over, pressing his lips to her temple. “You’re cranky when you drink.”

Paige started to cry. Neither man spoke, but both started shooting glances around the diner, probably to see who was noticing. Paige gulped on a sob and straightened, angry. She blew her nose in her napkin. “I’m fine. I was lied to my whole life. I was allowed to believe my father had abused my mother. And you know what? Part of me knew it wasn’t all true. I pretended I was wrong, though, and took the created version of my parents’ relationship as gospel. So many things I didn’t quite understand as a child, and I let them fade into the background. That much is my fault, without a doubt, but because of what my mother had done, I had no relationship with my dad for sixteen years. For my safety, Felicia said. And now he’s gone, and it’s too late.”

Dan and Liam exchanged another glance. She let it go. “Apparently, I witnessed something I’m not able to remember. Now that I’m back here, glimpses keep popping up, but I can’t make sense of them. My mom took another beating from the bastard she was sleeping with as a warning. The next time we’d both be dead, he said. My father, however, was A-okay as long as he continued to cooperate. It was the deal he struck with the man his wife was screwing while she was married to him. What the fuck.”

Crossing her arms, Paige stared out the tinted window to the parking lot. She almost wished the whiskey had been enough to make her sleep for days on end so she wouldn’t have to think about any of this. But sticking her head in the sand had been one of the strongest reasons Paige had accepted the falsehood fed to her by her mother. “Those photos in the attic? Mom had been sending them to Dad through Felicia for years. I don’t understand how my parents could let their lives get so out of control.”

With a deep sigh, she unfolded her arms and reached into her purse. “And this man who delighted in violence? It appears when he vanished from the area, my father was questioned about his disappearance, but someone at this table didn’t see fit to mention that to me.” She glared at Dan from behind the dark lenses. “My father was only cleared completely when Raleigh was arrested somewhere else on a warrant. Guess that prick did his time and got out, just in time to hassle me.”