Tsunami Blue (7 page)

Chapter Eight

The aroma of something wonderful hit me the moment I slid the door open. My stomach growled and my nose told me I wasn’t in Salmon Land anymore. I smelled fresh bread and roasting vegetables and some kind of simmering meat and…wait, was it even possible?

Coffee?

Did I smell coffee?

I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply through my nose, almost tripping as I made my way toward the aroma. Seamus had introduced me to coffee when I was seven, and by the time I was eight, I was the one making it. I was on the top of New San Juan, waiting on high ground, the day one of the worst waves took a giant swallow out of New Seattle. The sea took away the last vestiges of coffee, canned, freeze-dried, whole beans, or any other. My New Seattle coffee runs came to a halt. It was the beginning of a two-month-long caffeine headache for me. Which was my own personal hell. Even Max hardly recognized my normal pissed-off personality. I’d gone from marginally pissed off, to off-the-friggin’-Richter-scale pissed off. Looking back on it, I was surprised Max stuck around at all. At the thought of Max, my eyes stung and I quickly blinked back the threatening tears.

Stopping coffee runs was just one more door closing on my interaction with people. Which was probably for the best. My blue eyes and tattoo had been drawing too much attention anyway.

As things in our world got worse, the hatred for me grew. And who could blame them for hating me? Every time they heard my voice, death and destruction followed. No matter how much I read from the books and magazines piled in the Runner kindling dump, I never could find any explanation for my abilities. People didn’t like what they couldn’t explain. Some thought I wasn’t human, that I was something evil. Their superstition, desperation, and fear overrode hope.

Gabriel had set up a tiny fold-down table for us; he’d even lit a candle. He sat with his back to me, sipping a cup of Joe, as Seamus called it, reading a chart. His long black hair had been brushed out and hung loosely around his shoulders. It looked shiny and thick and glowed blue-black in the candlelight. It was beautiful.

I had the urge to walk up and yank it. Hard. But I really, really,
really
wanted a cup of coffee, so for now I’d try to play nice. Try.

“Have a seat,” he said without turning around. “Make yourself at home.”

I slipped onto the bench across from him, folding my hands in my lap, and waited expectantly. He would feed me, that much I was sure of, but I just didn’t know how to go about “making myself at home.” This wasn’t my home. This was my prison.

My stomach growled and he looked up and smiled. Twin dimples appeared and white teeth flashed. I must have been starving, because Gabriel Black looked good enough to eat. He had to quit smiling. It was unsettling and interfered with my thoughts of escape and stealing his boat and throwing him overboard.

He put the chart aside and leaned across the table. “Hungry?”

I nodded.

He looked at me appraisingly in the sweater, tilted his head, and whispered, “I know I am.”

Why did I think he wasn’t talking about food?

I felt the familiar heat climb into my cheeks.

“Your eyes look even bluer when you do that, as if that’s even possible.”

“Do what?”

“Blush.”

“Oh. I mean, I wasn’t.”

His black eyes sparkled with humor. “Oh,” he said. “The sweater looks terrific on you. I knew it would.”

I hardly knew what to say.
Thanks for being my secret shopper
?
Thanks for stalking me for five years and getting my underwear size right
? I decided to say nothing.

He continued to stare.

“Um, Gabriel?”

“Yeah?”

“Food?”

Now it was his turn to look embarrassed. He blinked. “Of course.”

Gabriel brought two heaping bowls of stew and placed one in front of me. I bent my head, breathing in the enticing aromas.

“It smells amazing. This is so not the fish chowder I’m used to.” I looked at him. “Venison?”

“Sirloin.”

I almost dropped my fork. Sirloin? Who had sirloin anymore? Sirloin was from cows. Cows had disappeared years ago. Hadn’t they?

There was warm wheat bread and tiny salt and pepper shakers, which blew me away, and then the magic words: “Do you want some coffee?”

It was all I could do to hide my excitement. “Um, yeah, sure.” I could do casual. I wasn’t a heathen.

“Cream?”

“Cream?” My voice squeaked and I dropped my spoon, sloshing the stew on the table. Okay. So maybe I was a heathen. Still, I was so surprised I could have fallen off a chair. Good thing my chair was a bench.

“Something wrong?”

I couldn’t stand it another second. I lost it. I picked up my spoon, pointing it at him like it was my knife. In my anger I might have even spun it, which was really embarrassing. I raised my voice anyway.

“Wrong? Wrong? Why would anything be wrong? Sirloin? Cream? Salt
and
pepper? And coffee? Who the hell has coffee these days?”

He looked confused. “What? You don’t like coffee?”

“I love coffee.
Love. It
. But that’s not my point.”

“What is the point?”

God, the man was dense. Who knew? But I guessed this was our first real conversation. We hadn’t had time to talk. We’d been too busy trying to kill each other.

“Okay, Gabriel. I’ll speak slowly.”

He frowned.

“Once upon a time there was a series of giant killer waves.” He sat back with arms folded, clearly not amused. “And they pretty much wiped out just about everything we humans had taken for granted. Things like cows and cream and pepper and
coffee
.” He gave me a blank look. I sighed, rubbing my temples. “The next thing you’ll tell me is that it’s Starbucks.”

“Christmas Blend.”

“What?”

“The coffee. It’s Starbucks’ Christmas Blend.”

“Un-fucking-believable.”

He raised a brow. “I like to eat well.”

“That’s my point. You eat well.” I spread my arms out in exasperation. “How?”

“Uplanders.”

His answer blew me away.

“Uplanders?” I hated that my voice sounded weak, uncertain. Scared.

“In part. The coffee is mine, though. It’s like gold. It makes a good trade.”

I put the spoon down and shook my head, amazed at this information. “How is this possible?” I demanded. “Uncle Seamus said Uplanders were no better off than the Runners—worse, even. He said the few of them who remained lived like animals. He said they weren’t worth saving. He said they’d kill me just as sure as—” I stopped. The look on Gabriel’s face said it all.

Seamus had lied.

How could that surprise me? Seamus had always lied. It wasn’t until now that I realized the true extent of it. The extreme measures he went to just to keep me isolated and alone. To be his personal Weather Channel. I saw the look of pity in Gabriel’s eyes and I hated it. With fists clamped against the anger and hurt, I hardly trusted my own voice. I held his gaze and then asked coolly, “May I have that cup of coffee now?”

“Of course.”

As Gabriel brought the steaming mug of coffee and set it in front of me, I kept my gaze down, intent on staring at the stew. It probably tasted wonderful, but I’d lost my appetite. I’d lost my fire, my will, my focus. Even the aroma of Starbucks Christmas Blend couldn’t rouse me.

Today I’d lost everything. My home, which now seemed like a lie. A lie because there were more people out there in more communities than I could have imagined. People who raised cows and had cream. I didn’t have to live alone, isolated on a remote island because Seamus O’Malley had put me there. And then I thought again of Max and realized that I hadn’t been truly alone for the past five years. But even my dog had been a lie. Max hadn’t been mine at all. And now he was gone.

Sitting in this stranger’s boat, held captive, my future in question, I felt as alone as the day they told me my family was dead.

I realized I was over-the-top feeling sorry for myself. Drowning in self-pity. But when most everything you thought was real wasn’t, well, it was a lot to process.

“Blue, you have to eat.”

Gabriel’s silken voice cut into my thoughts. I looked up into his intense gaze now filled with worry and I thought,
Why does he care?

I wrapped my hands around the mug, letting the warmth seep through. I felt completely and totally lost. Where was my place in this world? Where would a freak who could read waves and talk to the water fit in? Would Gabriel, a Runner, even give me that chance? Or was I once again a pawn for someone else’s agenda? Someone like this mysterious Indigo.

Gabriel reached out and wrapped his hands around mine for a moment. His hands covered my own completely. I couldn’t help but flash on how easily those same hands had snapped Raspy Voice’s neck. I started to tremble, in spite of my efforts not to.

“There’s so much you don’t understand,” he said in a soft, low voice.

Releasing my hands, he reached for the cream, held it above my mug with a questioning look. I nodded, unable to find my voice, and watched as the white liquid dropped into a dark landscape, turning it into lighter shades of brown.

“Please, Blue. Take something hot. You need it.”

I stared into the coffee, watching the light swirl with dark. I listened to the rain beating a soft rhythm on the deck above. But most of all I listened to the waters of the bay, tapping out a faint tattoo message against the hull.

A message I’d heard before.

My heart rate increased tenfold, and blood roared in my ears as my blood pressure skyrocketed. 

Gabriel and the lantern lights faded away. The swirls in my coffee moved faster and faster, forming peaks and foam. Sometimes it worked like that, like a message in a bottle. The sea talked to me in many forms: a tide pool, rain puddles, once even in Max’s water bowl. Why not a cup of coffee?

It was a summons. A summons to listen.

Gabriel’s voice seemed distant now. All I could hear was the voice against the hull, tapping out a warning.

 A wave, Blue. A wave. A wave. A wave. A big wave. Huge. A monster.

A tsunami
.

I gasped and the message continued.

Unmatched. Unstoppable. Unbeatable
.

I gripped the mug tighter and the hot liquid sloshed out, streaming over my hands. Gabriel was on his knees now, kneeling before me, gripping my shoulders, calling my name.

I was Tsunami Blue, all right. And I was living up to my name. A wave was coming, unlike one I’d ever seen before. None of us had. And just before my world turned to gray and then to black and I passed out in Gabriel’s arms, one thing and one thing only resonated in my mind.

Chapter Nine

I woke up in Gabriel Black’s arms.

He was asleep, I was awake, and all I could think of was that we were in bed together. Again.

We were in the tiny stateroom, snuggled up on the V-berth under a cozy down comforter. And even though the comforter covered us completely, I knew immediately that I had on my new pajamas. The baby-soft flannel felt as good against my skin as I knew it would. Still, that left the million-dollar question. Not that a million dollars was worth anything, right? Or was it? I didn’t know anymore. Still, I hadn’t put on the pj’s. So?

So once again Gabriel had seen me naked. Or gotten me naked. Shit, I guess both were technically right.
Well, that’s great, Blue. Just great.

I tried not to panic as thoughts of what might have happened raced through my mind. But no, my body would tell me; I would know. And I sure as hell would have woken up. A wave vision might lay me out for the count. But render me unconscious while I had wild, raw sex with a Runner? Not a chance in hell. I was an extremely light sleeper. And I was pretty damn sure sex with Gabriel Black would wake me up.

And as for Gabriel? I looked at him sleeping, one arm over my stomach, the other under my head. Inky lashes lay against bronzed skin, and his black hair mingled with my own, hard to tell where his started and mine left off. He looked amazing as always, but somehow in his sleep he looked…what? Not harmless, no, never not harmless. Honorable?

Okay. Get a grip, Blue.

I’d just visited the planet Delusional. Had to be lack of food. Or more likely the cup of coffee I missed out on last night. Something that traumatic would mess with anyone’s mind. I mean, come on. It was Starbucks Christmas Blend. With cream.I held my breath and peeked under the comforter, lifting it slowly. Gabriel was completely dressed, except for the nasty spiked belt he favored. Thank God. I mean, really, that belt could have snagged the hell out of my new pj’s.

The daylight from the tiny hatch above filtered gray light into the cabin, and I concentrated on the sounds that surrounded me: Gabriel’s even breathing, an eagle’s cry, the breeze slapping a line against the mast, and the sound I listened for the most: the water. And there it was, lapping at the hull, steady, constant, and nothing more. No warnings, no words, no rise in my blood pressure, except for when I looked at Gabriel sleeping next to me—nothing.

A wave bigger than any other
.

I fought panic. I had time to figure this out. I always had time. Not much. Two weeks, tops. The ocean would tease me with clues, give me facts mixed with fiction. It would lie, promise, renege, and then promise all over again. It was a dangerous game that had led to false alarms at times, which only further enflamed those who believed I was evil—that I somehow caused the waves.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax, tried to think. Whatever the sea was selling, I would buy. And I’d keep buying until I got it right. Eventually I would. I was Tsunami Blue, after all, and it was the one thing I could be proud of: In the end, I never, ever got it wrong. And when I figured it out, I’d take to the airwaves. But just like the boy who cried wolf too many times, there were people who refused to believe. And they paid for that with their lives. Our new world was filled with so much fear. It was easy to blame me. Still, I saved lives, so I’d keep on the air and— Wait. My equipment. My now burned and destroyed equipment.

I had more; I wasn’t a complete moron. I’d stashed shortwave radios all over the San Juans. Each had been jury-rigged to my own specifications. I’d been collecting the hand-cranked units since I was kid, back in the days when no one would listen. But we were headed north. Away from everything I needed. I had to tell Gabriel. We had to turn around. Now.

I shot up, so caught up in my thoughts I didn’t realize that Gabriel’s arm no longer lay across me, and once again, I collided with his forehead, a complete repeat of the day before.

“Damn it, Blue.” He flopped down on the bed.

“Oh, damn,” I said, crashing back on the bed in a heap next to him. Both of us put our hands on our foreheads, groaning.

He spoke first.

“You’re a painful woman,” he said with a grimace and a moan.

I rolled over on my side and glared at him. The movement more than gave me a headache; the white spots and stars threatened again. His eyes were still closed and his fingertips rubbed his forehead.

“Serves you right for sneaking up on a girl. And”—I punched him hard in the arm—“that’s for seeing me naked. Again.”

The punch didn’t faze him, of course, but he did open one eye and look at me.

“If you want to get physical, Blue, I’m game.”

He moved so fast, I was totally unprepared. He’d straddled me in under two seconds. Pinning my arms over my head, he pressed his weight onto my stomach and lowered his face close to mine. I felt my pulse jump and caught my breath. Was this it? Was this when Gabriel Black, the Runner, showed his true colors, turning into an animal? I could taste the fear in my mouth, and I tried like hell not to show it in my eyes.

 He narrowed his own dark eyes and his intense gaze said it all. He was pissed. But not murderous. I was raised around Runners. I knew the difference. I started to breathe again.

“Blue, you will listen to me. From your reaction last night, I have to believe another wave is coming. And I have to know when. And where.”

I said nothing, just glared. I knew he wasn’t through yet.

“You will get up, you will eat, you will fight to keep your strength up, and you and I will talk. Or rather, I will talk and you will listen. Understood?”

Oh, I understood.

I’d understood my whole life. I’d been pushed and punched and ordered around my entire childhood and then some. But when Seamus was murdered and I was left alone at thirteen, I’d been the boss of me ever since. And I liked it that way. But I also knew enough to know that I wasn’t holding the right cards. If I’d been playing poker, I would’ve folded this hand. Besides, Gabriel had something I desperately wanted: a way back to my radios.
And let’s not forget the boat.

Still, old habits and all. I glared defiantly at him. “And if I don’t, tough guy?”

“Then you don’t get any Starbucks.”

Okay. He had me.

“Christmas Blend?” I asked, mad at myself for being so cheap and easy and, well, easy.

“Christmas Blend.”

“Cream?”

“Will you listen, Blue? Will you eat? Will you”—he released my arms and reached up and touched his forehead—“will you give my head a break?”

I nodded, my mouth already salivating for the brew. “Deal.” My thoughts of the rich, dark coffee were interrupted by a loud, “Wow.”

Wow? Where did that—

“Hey, Nick, look. Gabe’s got a babe down there.”

Babe? Did I hear that right? Babe? And from who? I looked over Gabriel’s shoulder to the skylight hatch and saw a boy’s face was pressed against the thick panel. It distorted his features, but not enough. I could tell it was a kid.

“Damn it,” Gabriel swore. “I never even heard those two board.”

Two? I looked harder over his shoulder.

He looked at me, exasperated. “You’re such a distraction, Blue.”

“Me?” I asked, incredulous. “Me? You’re the one who’s distracted me. From my entire life.”

Dark, shaggy heads, almond eyes, perfect noses—it might have been the distorting glass, because both kids looked exactly the same. From what I could tell, they were going to be heartbreakers when they grew up. They were brothers, of course, most likely twins. And, being a twin myself, I was fascinated. I waved.

The boys laughed and knocked on the hatch. “Hey, Just Gabe. Who’s your girlfriend?”

“Yeah, for a while there, we thought you might be gay,” the other chimed in.

Gabriel raised both dark brows and I couldn’t hide my amusement. He sighed and leaned in closer. “We have to give them a show.”

“We do?” I couldn’t read his eyes, but I‘d have sworn they’d gotten darker.

He leaned in and kissed my neck, now holding my arms to my sides. “Play along,” he whispered.

“Because they think you’re gay?” I whispered back. “There’s nothing wrong with being gay.” I was pretty damn sure he wasn’t, but the look on his face was… How did that old commercial go? Ah, I got it.
Priceless.

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Because they can’t know who you are.”

“They can’t? Why?” I whispered back.
Damn.
Now he was getting serious. I trembled in spite of myself, having Gabriel so close, so intimate. So
not
gay.

He bit my earlobe gently and I gasped, as more whispers from Gabriel came and went.

 “They can’t know.” A kiss to the neck. “It’s too dangerous.” A caress up my bare arm. “Try to understand. They’re just kids.”

“And?”

“And kids talk.”

“They do?” He kissed me on my neck. I gasped. “I mean they do. Of course they do.” What the hell was wrong with me? I couldn’t think straight.  

“These two do. A lot. And if they think they have met Tsunami Blue, they’ll want to tell the world.”

“Follow my lead.” He traced my collarbone, and my nipples tightened. It was a raw sensation for me, and I was now noticeably trembling. “You’re beautiful, Blue, beautiful.” Then, just before the kiss, I saw it in his eyes. The desire. And the fear. Then a few more whispers. “They can’t know right now. Your life depends on it. Please let me protect you.” He looked into my eyes and I couldn’t look away. “I can’t lose you.”

Then he kissed me.

And I’d never been kissed like this before.

I’d had only one attempt in my teens, when the tattoo artist who had worked on my arm had become close with me. My full sleeve had taken a number of days, almost a week, and I so enjoyed Jake’s company that when it was over and our time together was drawing to a close, I let him kiss me. I hadn’t known what to do. It felt awkward and wrong.

It hadn’t felt like this.

Jake, with his red hair and freckles, was a sweet, talented kid. Nothing like my tall and dangerous Gabriel, my dark angel, my tough guy. Only faintly was I aware I called Gabriel
mine
. I couldn’t think, couldn’t process. I didn’t know what I was doing, but at this moment, knowing his fear and tasting his desire, I didn’t want it to stop.

And when Gabriel’s lips explored mine, soft yet demanding, I did as I was told and followed his lead. He opened my mouth to his, and when his tongue touched mine I couldn’t help it: I moaned softly, circling his back with my arms, leaning into his solid chest. My breasts, so sensitive now, pressed against him. He slid off and pulled me up from the bunk into his embrace; I went willingly into his arms that felt so safe, so amazingly strong and secure.

Tears pressed behind my eyes as I thought of Jake, his twisted and bloody body lying among spilled ink and smashed tools. He’d died because of me.

Runners, knowing Seamus had once made his home in the islands of the Pacific Northwest, had come looking for their prize, Tsunami Blue. After all, to own Tsunami Blue would be to own the power of the sea. To know when and where the next wave would strike would give them control over who lived and who died. The bastards could play God. Who wouldn’t pay dearly for information like that? Who in this changed, damp world didn’t want to fight for survival? To live? Who didn’t want to hope and pray for a better tomorrow? For most of us, that possibility, that shred of hope, was all that kept us going.

They’d somehow heard I’d been with Jake, and he’d paid the price.

Before Jake’s death, I had ventured out, paddling to outer islands, mingling a bit with fringe folks who lived like me; low profile, antisocial, scared. But as word grew about my talent, about the color of my eyes and my unusual tattoo, I knew it was time to keep my head down and stay hidden.

What if Gabriel Black was headed toward the same destiny? Would he deserve it? Would I care? For the first time in longer than I could remember I was afraid of something other than a wave or Runners. I was afraid for someone else. Someone I shouldn’t care about, much less trust. 

A tear escaped. Gabriel felt it, pulled from the kiss, and whispered into my hair, “I’d never hurt you. You must believe that.” He wiped the tear with his thumb and kissed me again. This time he held back, aware of our underage audience of two. He broke off the kiss reluctantly.

“Ready?”

I nodded. “Do I still get coffee?”

He smiled that killer smile of his. “To quote someone I’ve been hanging with lately, abso-fucking-lutely.”

I shook my head, embarrassed. “Max and I were working on it, you know. The language thing.”

“I know.” He smoothed my hair. “That’s what I love about you. You have a unique way of doing things”—he winked—“and wording things. I find it quite adorable.”

Adorable? I’d been called a lot of things in my life, but I was pretty sure that
adorable
had never been one of them. What was happening to my tough-girl image? When I got my knife back, I’d have to kick his ass again. But out of respect for my Max, I was really gonna work on the language thing. One way or another, I’d be talking on the airwaves soon. And if I understood Gabriel correctly, there were more children out there than I could have dreamed of. Hell—that is, heck—two of them were on this boat.

I glanced at our little audience above and I knew they’d seen just a good-morning kiss, albeit a really, really good one. Gabriel was fully dressed and I was well covered; still, I felt raw and vulnerable and exposed. All because of one kiss. Okay. I admit it: one amazing kiss.

“Cool tattoo,” one of the kids said. “Looks like a wave.”

“I wonder if she has big boobs,” the other one said, louder than he meant to.

I burst out laughing. “The boys are going to be disappointed.”

Gabriel jumped up and flattened his palm on the glass, scaring the boys into flight. He could sure play the tough guy. But I thought I’d seen a glimpse of the real Gabriel Black, and maybe, just maybe it was time I listened to what he had to say. If I didn’t like it, I could still throw him overboard.