Her lips twitched. “So it’s your friend’s sister who’s got your balls in a vice.”
He let his head fall against the headrest. “Ahh yeah, hurts sooo good.”
* * * *
Jo cruised past the main fire station on her way to Papagayos. Ray’s Hummer sat in the parking lot. He’d caught her off guard the other night. It could have gone worse, he might have brought a date along.
He’d asked for her forgiveness. Of course she had, she loved him. But the words wouldn’t spill from her lips. Same as her fingers refused to call him. Her father may have thought Ray was unworthy. He might have been or still be a player, but she was just damaged goods and felt useless to anyone.
She swung through the door of the dark tavern. Two business types dressed in dark polo shirts and slacks didn’t fit their regular patrons’ attire. Seated nearest the kitchen, their serious expressions had her scanning for Harley.
“Can I get you guys something?” She tossed two napkins down on the bare bar before them.
“No, thanks, honey,” the older one said. “Just waiting for your boss.” Fine lines at the corners of his gray eyes enhanced the steel shading at his temples. The way he said honey reminded her of her dad. The scent of Old Spice intensified the association.
“Secret mission talk?” She teased with a smile.
He nodded.
“Yeah, I know. You could tell me, but you’d have to kill me.”
“Don’t think Harley would take it too kindly if we offed his help.” The younger partner smiled. He barely looked as old as she, but the way he casually observed his surroundings gave evidence to his training.
They were too casually dressed for FBI. DEA maybe? Bobby should know which alphabet group they belonged. She returned with ice waters and a small bow of pretzels.
“What’s up, Ben?” Harley returned and extended his burly hand across the bar toward the older man. “Pete.” He shook hands with the other man. “Come on back to my office.”
They gathered at a small table in the back where Harley added receipts at the end of the night. An odd feeling settled in Jo’s stomach. What was he into? If they were DEA, she prayed it didn’t involve her.
Chapter 8
In late summer, Ocean Rescue transferred Jo to Coquina Beach near Oregon Inlet. Wild and remote with tall dunes and grasses, the area attracted tons of surfers. Some of the surfers recognized her from competition days and began inviting her to their parties. Occasionally, she stayed for a beer as her social animal reemerged.
Labor Day weekend, she sat in her lifeguard chair stuck in the proverbial fork in the road. She desperately needed a job with hospitalization, and more importantly, life insurance. Her brother appeared to be on the fast track to matrimony, and she couldn’t be sure where it would leave her with regard to a residence. If he decided to sell the beach house, she’d be screwed.
Even with her physical education degree, teacher openings were nil on the Outer Banks or nearby mainland. Retail work slowed considerably in the off-season. After clearing almost two hundred dollars during a full shift at Papagayos, she couldn’t see working more hours for less money.
She was, however, a strong swimmer, and could drag a two-hundred-pound man out of the surf, and administer CPR until EMS arrived. It didn’t get much more physical. Rescues in extreme conditions. Maybe Bobby was right about firefighting. Decent pay with benefits and enough excitement to satisfy her adrenaline driven nature.
After her shift, she stopped for a last minute liquor pick-up for Harley. She wheeled her truck around back and dropped the gate. The former SEAL appeared from nowhere. She swore he was stealth.
“Big crowd already,” he said, unloading cases. “And they’re not here for the holiday.”
She searched his eyes. “Somebody die?”
“Firefighter.”
Her heart stopped mid-beat. Dark spots filled her vision. Please…no one she knew. Oh God, not Ray. No, Bobby would have called her.
“Old timer,” he clarified.
She exhaled slowly.
“Stan Parks.”
“Shit.” She swiped a hand over her forehead.
“You knew him?”
“Dad and Stan were probies together. Had he retired?” A familiar panic rose in her throat.
“Was going to at the end of the year. Heart attack took him. Lots of fire boys already here knocking back cold ones in salutation. You should make big tips.” He hoisted a case of liquor onto a shoulder.
“Not the way I want to make money.” Her limbs went cold while following him inside.
Bobby sat at the bar in plain clothes. He wore a frown and searched her with glazed eyes as she slipped behind the counter. She nodded as he raised his glass.
Scanning the patrons for Ray, she realized she’d lost sight of the fragility of life. Both he and her brother put their lives on the line every day.
As the night wore on, firefighters and police crowded the small bar to pay respects and remember a lost brother. Guilt for not already accepting Ray’s apology along with the firefighters’ camaraderie set Jo on an emotional roller coaster.
Later in the evening, Sarah squeezed Bobby’s shoulder. “You ready to go home, baby?”
“He won’t be much longer.” Jo smiled.
Bobby teetered on his seat, barely able to carry on a conversation with the cop next to him. “I’m fine.”
She winked at Sarah. “Sure, tiger. Have you heard from Ray tonight, or is he on shift?”
“What do you care?” He scowled. “You had your chance. He doesn’t need your shit when he’s got a hot ER nurse after him.”
So much for brotherly love. Her badass surfer side fought an urge to lean across the bar and punch him square in the nose. But he was right and she was woman enough to admit it.
Sarah grabbed him by the elbow. “Come on, baby. Let’s go home. I’ll fix you something to eat.” She mouthed sorry and dragged him outside.
The cottage sat eerily silent when Jo arrived home. She bumped around the kitchen a few minutes with Bobby’s words stinging her pride. Minutes later, her feet led her downstairs and onto the beach.
Usually the surf eased her tension. Not tonight. She plucked her cell from her pocket and checked the time. Two-thirty AM. The call would hit his voicemail. With shaking fingers, she pressed Send.
“I know it’s late,” she whispered, “but I couldn’t wait till morning. Not after hearing about Stan.” She sounded like a chump now.
“I was wrong to blame you. You’ve always been there for me.” She should have accepted his offer to come to California when he sensed things were off. She’d played tough and where had it gotten her? “I’m sorry. I’d like to give you a face-to-face apology and breakfast, but if you’re done with a damaged surfer, I understand.
“Love you, blue eyes.”
The screen went black and she stood alone in the darkness with whitewater foaming at her feet. A warm breeze stirred giving her hope.
Chapter 9
Early the next morning, Jo shot a perfect curl atop a fifteen-footer when a shrill chirp yanked her from her blue heaven dream. “Lo,” she answered and then cleared her throat.
“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”
She