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Prologue

“YOU’RE GOING TO FEED them again?”

Molly Monoco looked up at the sound of her husband’s voice. She had been busy in the galley, putting together a goodie bag filled with substantial meals. Ted, speaking with a growl in his voice, had been at his workstation. Apparently he had just noticed how industriously she had been preparing food.

Her husband appeared both aggravated and disgusted.

He knew what she was up to.

She couldn’t really blame him for his feelings. Ted had worked hard all his life, and had earned every bit of the income they were now enjoying after his retirement. They both came from Cuban families who had made the move to Florida long before the refugees had begun fleeing the little island. While Molly’s maiden name had been Rodriguez, her first name had always been Molly, just as Ted had been Theodore from the start. Their parents had brought them to the States, believing in the American dream, and teaching them a work ethic that would allow them to achieve that dream.

Ted had started out playing the drums at nightclubs in Miami, not unlike a man who had become a lot more famous, Desi Arnaz.

He had worked as a busboy, as well, then a waiter, a host and a dancer. From his playing, he had fallen in love with salsa. So he had kept playing the drums, kept dancing, kept bussing tables and being a waiter and bartender until he had made enough money to buy his first studio, totally dedicated to the art of salsa. Eventually he had owned several studios, then sold them for a nice fat profit.

Work. Ted had known how to do it well. He had little patience with those who would not or could not help themselves.

And she did understand.

But she had her goals, too, trying to look after others who perhaps didn’t deserve help, but then again, who might turn their lives around with a little assistance.

Now, as a retired man of means, he also had his hobbies, like all the sonar gadgets and other equipment on the boat. After all, he would have noticed what she was up to earlier, if he hadn’t been playing around so intently with one of his computers!

She smiled. Even miffed, as he was right now, he was still as attractive to her as the young man with whom she had fallen in love forty-odd years ago. Tall, but not too tall, still fit. The hair on his chest was now gray—like the thinning strands on top of his head, but she didn’t care. After all those years of marriage, the ups and the downs, she loved him now just as much as she always had—even if he had decided to name the yacht Retired!, despite the fact that she could have thought of a dozen more charming names.

His current displeasure with her wouldn’t last. It never did. Just as she loved the fact that he was always tinkering with some new kind of technology, he was secretly pleased that his wife was concerned for the welfare of others.

“Ted, what else can I do?” she asked softly.

“Quench the maternal instincts,” he said, rolling his eyes. “We may well be talking criminals here. Hell, we’re definitely talking criminals.”

“Or misdirected young people who just need a helping hand,” she said firmly. All her life, Molly had been involved. Blessed with Ted, her high-school sweetheart, she’d worked alongside him at many a club. Then—when she hadn’t been able to produce the family she would have loved—she’d tried to help out where she could, at the church, with the homeless, and for various good causes, raising funds, even working soup kitchens. She could afford to, once Ted began making good money.

And she remained blessed. At sixty-five, she was no spring chick. But she was in good health, good shape, and pleased, mainly for Ted’s sake, that people would say what an attractive woman she was.

“It’s food, Ted. Nothing but a little food,” she assured him. “And the last handout we’re giving, since we’re setting off on our own excursion.”

He sighed, and a small smile crept over his face. Coming to her, he wrapped his arms around her. “How did I get so lucky?” he asked.

“Chance?” she teased, smiling.

He gave her a swat on the bottom. She giggled. Flirting was fun. They were older now, so a pat on the behind didn’t lead to an afternoon in the handsome master cabin. Forget Viagra. He had a heart condition; she wouldn’t let him take it. When there was this kind of amazing affection and closeness after so many years, nothing needed to be pushed.

In his arms, she thought with wonder what a great life they’d had together, and how wonderful it was that they still had each other—and the Retired! They could go anywhere, live out their dreams, explore—wherever the whim took them—and do it all in luxury.

“Okay, woman, we’re moving on, so go and be lady bountiful, and then we’ll get cracking,” he said firmly.

“Right.”

Molly headed for the ladder that would take her to the deck, her bag of goodies in her arms. She hummed softly as she emerged topside.

For a moment she just stared, confused. She even started to smile.

Then the tune she had been humming abruptly halted, broken on the air.

Her mouth began to work.

No sound came.

TED HEARD, OR THOUGHT HE HEARD, a slight sound from topside.

“Molly?”

No answer.

“Molly?” he called, a little louder this time.

He felt a little thud against his heart. Maybe she had fallen, taking the dinghy, getting on or off the main boat. Hurt herself. Worse. They were neither of them young. What if she’d suffered some kind of attack? Fallen—maybe unconscious—into the water?

He leaped up, some instinct suddenly warning him of danger.

He ran up the steps to the deck.

And froze.

Two thoughts occurred to him.

What an ass he had been!

And then…

Molly, oh, Molly, Molly…

“Time to talk, Ted,” snapped an angry voice.

“I can’t tell you what you want to know,” he protested, tears in his eyes.

“I think you can.”

“I can’t! I swear, before God, I would if I could.”

“Start thinking, Ted. Because trust me, you will tell me what you’ve found.”

1

IT WAS A SKULL.

That much Beth Anderson knew after two seconds of dusting off bits of dirt and grass and fallen palm debris.

“Well?” Amber demanded.

“What is it?” Kimberly asked, standing right behind Amber, anxiously trying to look over her shoulder.

Beth glanced up briefly at her fourteen-year-old niece and her niece’s best friend. Until just seconds ago, the two had been talking a mile a minute, as they always did, agreeing that their friend Tammy was a bitch, being far too cruel to her best friend, Aubrey, who in turn came to Amber and Kimberly for friendship every time she was being dissed by Tammy. They weren’t dissing anyone themselves, they had assured Beth, because they weren’t saying anything they wouldn’t say straight to Tammy’s face.

Beth loved the girls, loved being with them, and was touched to be the next best thing to a mother for Amber, who had lost her own as an infant. She was accustomed to listening to endless discussions on the hottest music, the hottest new shows and the hottest new movies—and who did and didn’t deserve to be in them, since the girls were both students at a magnet school for drama.

The main topic on their hot list had recently become boys. On that subject, they could truly talk endlessly.

But now their continual chatter had come to a dead stop.

Kimberly had been the one to stub her toe on the unknown object.

Amber had been the one to stoop down to look, then demand that her aunt come over.

“Well?” Kim prodded. “Dig it up, Beth.”

“Um…I don’t think I should,” Beth said, biting her lower lip.

It wasn’t just a skull. She couldn’t see it clearly, there was so much dirt and debris, but despite the fact that it was half hidden by tangled grasses and the sandy ground, she could see more than bone.

There was still hair, Beth thought, her stomach churning.

And even tissue.

She didn’t want the girls seeing what they had discovered any more closely.

Beth felt as if the blood in her veins had suddenly turned to ice. She didn’t touch the skull; she carefully laid a palm frond over it, so she would recognize the spot when she returned to it. She wasn’t about to dig anything up with the girls here.

She dusted her hands and stood quickly, determined that they had to get back to her brother; who was busy setting up their campsite. They were going to have to radio the police, since cell phones didn’t seem to work out here.

A feeling of deep unease was beginning to ooze along her spine as vague recollections of a haunting news story flashed into her mind: Molly and Ted Monoco, expert sailors, had seemed to vanish into thin air.

The last place they’d actually been seen was Calliope Key, right where they were now.

“Let’s go get Ben,” she suggested, trying not to sound as upset as she felt.

“It’s a skull, isn’t it?” Amber demanded.

She was a beautiful girl, tall and slender, with huge hazel eyes and long dark hair. The way she looked in a bathing suit—a two-piece, but hardly a risqué bikini—was enough to draw the attention of boys who were much too old for her, at least in Beth’s opinion. Kimberly was the opposite of Amber, a petite blonde with bright blue eyes, pretty as a picture.

Sometimes the fact that she was in charge of two such attractive and impressionable girls seemed daunting. She knew she tended to be a worrywart, but the idea of any harm coming to the girls was…

Okay! She was the adult here. In charge. And it was time to do something about that.

But they were practically alone on an island with no phones, no cars…not a single luxury. A popular destination for the local boat crowd, but distant and desolate.

It was two to three hours back to Miami with the engine running, though Fort Lauderdale was closer, and it was hardly an hour to a few of the Bahamian islands.

She inhaled and exhaled. Slowly.

The human mind was amazing. Moments ago she had been delighted by the very remoteness of the island, pleased that there weren’t any refreshment stands, automobiles or modern appliances of any kind.

But now…

“Might be a skull,” Beth admitted, and she forced a grin, lifting her hands. “And might not be,” she lied. “Your dad isn’t going to be happy about this, Amber, when he’s been planning this vacation for so long, but—”

She broke off. She hadn’t heard the sound of footsteps or even the rustle of foliage, but as she spoke, a man appeared.

He had emerged from an overgrown trail through one of the thick hummocks of pines and palms that grew so profusely on the island.

It was that elemental landscape that brought real boat people here, the lack of all the things that came with the real world.

So why did his arrival feel so threatening?

Trying to be rational with herself, she decided that he looked just right for the type of person who should be here. He had sandy hair and was deeply tanned. No, not just tanned but bronzed, with the kind of dyed-in-deep coloring that true boat people frequently seemed to acquire. He was in good shape, but not heavily muscled. He was in wellworn denim cutoffs, and his feet were clad in deck shoes, no socks. His feet were as bronze as his body, so he must have spent plenty of time barefoot.

Like a guy who belonged on a boat, cruising the out islands. One who knew what he was doing. One who would camp where there were no amenities.

He also wore shades.

Anyone would, she told herself. She had on sunglasses, as did the girls. So why did his seem suspicious, dark and secretive.

She needed to be reasonable, she told herself. She was only feeling this sudden wariness because she had just found a skull, and instinctive panic was setting in. It was odd how the psyche worked. Any other time, if she had run into someone else on the island, she would have been friendly.

But she had just found a skull, and he reminded her of the unknown fate of Ted and Molly Monoco, who had been here, and then…

Sailed into the sunset?

An old friend had reported them missing when they hadn’t radioed in, as they usually did.

And she had just found a skull at their last known location.

So she froze, just staring at the man.

Amber, at fourteen, hadn’t yet begun to think of personal danger in the current situation. Her father was a boat person, so she was accustomed to other boat people, and she was friendly when she met them. She wasn’t stupid or naive, and she had been taught street smarts—she went to school in downtown Miami, for one thing. She could be careful when she knew she should.

Apparently that didn’t seem to be now.

Amber smiled at the stranger and said, “Hi.”

“Hi,” he returned.

“Hi,” Kim said.

Amber nudged Beth. “Um—hi.”

“Keith Henson,” the man said, and though she couldn’t see his eyes, his shades were directed toward her. His face had good solid lines. Strong chin, high-set cheekbones. The voice was rich and deep.

He should have been doing voice-overs for commercials or modeling.

Hey, she mocked herself. Maybe that was what he did do.

“I’m Amber Anderson,” her niece volunteered. “This is Kim Smith, and that’s my aunt Beth.” She was obviously intrigued and went on to say, “We’re camping here.”

“Maybe,” Beth said quickly.

Amber frowned. “Oh, come on! Just because—”

“How do you do, Mr. Henson,” Beth said, cutting off her niece’s words. She stepped forward quickly, away from their find. “Nice to meet you. Down here on vacation? Where are you from?”

Oh, good, that was casual. A complete third degree in ten seconds or less.

“Recent transplant, actually a bit of a roamer,” he told her, smiling, offering her his hand. It was a fine hand. Long fingered, as bronzed as the rest of him, nails clipped and clean. Palm callused. He used his hands for work. He was a real sailor, definitely, or did some other kind of manual labor.

She had the most bizarre thought that when she accepted his handshake, he would wrench her forward, and then his fingers would wind around her neck. The fear became so palpable that she almost screamed aloud to the girls to run.

He took her hand briefly in a firm but not too powerful grip, then released it. “Amber, Kim,” he said, and shook their hands as he spoke.

“So are you folks are from the area?” he asked, and looked at the girls, smiling. Apparently he’d already written Beth off as a total flake.

She slipped between the two girls, feeling her bulldog attitude coming on and setting an arm around each girl’s shoulders.

“Yep!” Amber said.

“Well, kind of,” Kim said.

“I mean, we’re not from the island we’re standing on, but nearby,” Amber said.

Henson’s smile deepened.

Beth tried to breathe normally and told herself that she was watching far too many forensics shows on television. There was no reason to believe she had to protect the girls from this man.

But no reason to trust him on sight, either.

“Are you planning on camping on the island?” Beth asked.

He waved a hand toward the sea. “I’m not sure yet. I’m with some friends…we’re doing some diving, some fishing. We haven’t decided whether we’re in a camping mood or not.”

“Where are your friends?” Beth asked. A little sharply? she wondered. So much for being casual, able to easily escape a bad situation, if it should prove to be one.

“At the moment I’m on my own.”

“I didn’t see your dinghy,” Beth said. “In fact, I didn’t even notice another boat in the area.”

“It’s there,” he said, “the Sea Serpent.” He cocked his head wryly. “My friend, Lee, who owns her, likes to think of himself as the brave, adventurous type. Did you sail out here on your own?”

It might have been an innocent question, but not to Beth. Not at this moment.

She had been swearing for years that she was going to take kung fu classes or karate, but as yet, she hadn’t quite done so.

She always carried pepper spray in her purse. But, of course, she had been wandering inland with the girls, just walking, and she wasn’t carrying her purse. She wasn’t carrying anything. She had on sandals and a bathing suit. Like the girls.

“Are you alone?” Keith Henson repeated politely.

Politely? Or menacingly?

“Oh, no. We’re with my brother. And a whole crowd.”

“A whole crowd—” Amber began.

Beth pinched her shoulder.

“Ow!” Amber gasped.

“Lots of my brother’s friends are coming in. Sailors…boat people…you know, big guys, the kind who can twist off beer caps with their teeth,” Beth said, trying to sound light.

Amber and Kim were both staring at her as if she’d lost her mind.

“Oh, yeah, all my dad’s friends are, like, big, tough-guy nature freaks,” Amber said, staring at Beth. “Yeah right, the kind that open beer bottles with their teeth.”

“They are?” Kim asked, sounding very confused.

“At any rate, there will be a bunch of us. A couple of cops, even,” Beth said, realizing immediately how ridiculous that sounded.

Time to move on!

Tugging at the girls’ shoulders, she added, “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you. We’d better get back to my brother before he misses us. We’re supposed to be helping with the setup.”

“We’ll see you, if you’re hanging around,” Kim told him cheerfully.

“Yes, nice to meet you,” Amber said.

“Bye, then,” Keith Henson said.

A plastic smile in place, Beth continued to force the girls away from the man and toward the beach where they’d come ashore in the dinghy. And where they would find her brother, she prayed. Surely he hadn’t gone wandering off.

“Aunt Beth,” Amber whispered, “what on earth is the matter with you? You were so weird to that man.”

Kimberly cleared her throat, “Um, actually, you were pretty rude,” she said hesitantly.

“He was alone, he appeared out of nowhere—and we had just found a skull,” Beth said, after glancing back to assure herself that they were out of earshot.

“You said you weren’t sure if it was a skull or not,” Kim said.

“I wasn’t sure—I’m not sure.”

“But it looked like he just got here, too,” Amber said. “And the skull—it is a skull, isn’t it?—had been there a while.”

“Criminals often return to the scene of the crime,” Beth said, quoting some program or other, and anxiously moving forward.

Amber burst out laughing. “Aunt Beth! Okay, so you got the heebie-jeebies. But puh-lease. Did you see a gun on him?”

“Or anywhere he could have stuffed one?” Kim asked, giggling.

They weren’t such bad questions, really.

“No,” Beth admitted.

“So why were you so rude?” Amber persisted.

Beth groaned. “I don’t know. I guess when you think you might have found a skull, you become very careful about your own health and well-being, okay?”

“Okay,” Amber said after a moment. “He looked like a decent guy.”

“He probably is.”

Kim giggled suddenly. “He was hot.”

“He’s way too old for you guys,” Beth replied a little too sharply.

“So is Brad Pitt, but that doesn’t mean he’s not hot,” Amber said, shaking her head as if it was a sadly difficult thing to deal with adults.

“Right,” Beth murmured.

A thud sounded from behind. Beth jumped, ready to cover the girls with her own body against any threatened danger.

“Aunt Beth,” Amber said, “it was a palm frond.”

Beth exhaled. “Right,” she murmured.

The girls were looking at one another again. As if they had to be very careful with her.

As if she were losing her mind.

“Come on, let’s find your dad,” Beth said to Amber.

THE WOMAN HAD TO BE ONE OF the strangest he’d ever come across, Keith decided, watching as the threesome walked away.

She’d acted as if she’d been hiding something.

As if she was guilty of…something.

He shook his head. No, not with those two teens at her side. They were far too innocent and friendly for anything to have been going on. Not that teens couldn’t be guilty of a lot. But he had learned to be a pretty good judge of character, and those two were simply young and friendly, like a pair of puppies, fresh and eager to explore the world, expecting only good things from it.

But as for the woman…

Beth Anderson. She and the tall girl were obviously related. Both had the same very sleek dark hair. Not dead straight, but lush and wavy. And Beth had the kind of eyes that picked up the elements, that could be dark or light, that held a bit of the exotic, the mysterious. Very nicely built, which was more than evident, since all three were in two-piece suits. She appeared to be in her mid to late twenties, naturally sensual and sexy, though not in an overt way. Athletic. With shapely legs that went forever…

She was compellingly attractive.

And a little crazy.

No. Frightened.

Of him?

This was his first trip to Calliope Key. But he surely looked the part. So why had he appeared so menacing to her?

She wouldn’t ever have come to the island with the girls if she had been afraid of something from the get-go. So…?

They must have found something.

He looked quickly around the clearing. There was nothing immediately evident that would have disturbed anyone, whatever they’d found had to be right around where they had been standing.

For a moment everything in him seemed to tighten and burn; his jaw locked. The heat of anger filled him, the raging sense of fury that the world was never just, and no effort on his part could change that.

And that was part of the reason he was here, he reminded himself, though he kept that fact private. Keep your eye on the prize—that was the standing order. There was one objective. Find what they were seeking, and do it discreetly. Then the rest would fall into place. He hoped. He wasn’t certain anyone else really believed that, and he would be damned if he even knew what he believed himself.

He heard his name called. It was Lee.

He forced a deep breath, aware that he had to tamp down his emotions over his current situation.

He shouted back, “I’m over here.”

A minute later, Lee Gomez and Matt Albright appeared in the clearing. “What’s going on?” Lee asked him. Half-Ecuadorian and half-American mutt, Lee had brilliant blue eyes and pitch-dark hair, and skin that never seemed to mind the sun.

“Not much. Met a woman and two girls—they’re with the woman’s brother, maybe some other people, camping on the island tonight,” Keith said.

Matt shook his head, swearing. He was the redhead in their group, quick to anger, quicker to apologize, but at all times easily irritated. “There’s more. Two more good-size boats, both anchored not far from us. I saw a dinghy coming in with several people.”

“Well, what are you going to do,” Keith asked with a shrug. “Boaters have been coming out here since…well, hell, probably since forever.”

“Yeah, but dammit, they shouldn’t be here now,” Matt muttered.

“Hey, we knew we’d be in public view, working around whatever happened and whoever appeared. People are here, so let’s make the best of it,” Keith said. “And think about it. It’s not much of a shock. It’s a weekend, the perfect time for boaters to take a little break.”

“You don’t think we could dress up as pygmies and scare them all off the island, do you?” Lee murmured dryly.

“Pygmies?” Matt said.

“Some kind of tribal islanders, maybe cannibals?” Lee teased.

Keith laughed. “Oh, yeah, that would make us really inconspicuous. Besides, while they’re on the island, they’re not out on their boats, checking out the reefs. It’s a weekend. Let’s do like the others. Play tourist. Get to know the folks. Check out what they know—and what they’re thinking.” And what they’re afraid of, he thought, but he kept the possibility that anyone on the island might suspect them of something to himself.

Lee shrugged. “All right.”

“So we roll out the cooler and the tent and make like party people,” Matt said. He laughed suddenly. “Not so bad. One of the people on the boat was a woman, and man, she sure as hell looked like a hottie. From a distance, anyway.”

One of the people on the boat? Keith thought. You should have seen the woman in this very clearing, just minutes ago. And I wasn’t any distance from her. None at all.

“Doesn’t matter if she’s hot as blue blazes, no getting too close to the locals, not tonight,” Lee warned sternly.

“Hey, I’m just going to be a party boy. A friendly guy, just looking for fun, a good ole boating fool,” Matt assured him.

“Well, you can be a good ole boy later. I’m not hauling stuff off that boat by myself,” Lee said. “If we’re turning into Boy Scouts and doing the camping thing, you guys can do some of the lugging, too.”

“Actually, camping isn’t such a bad idea,” Keith said.

“No, and getting to know folks from the area isn’t a bad idea, either,” Lee said. He grinned. “I think I’ll own the boat.”

“Hey!” Matt protested.

“Someone has to own the boat, right?” Lee asked.

“You can own the boat,” Keith said.

“I get to own it next time,” Matt said.

“With any luck, there won’t be a next time,” Keith said. He stared at the other two, and he couldn’t help feeling an edge of suspicion.

Lee stared back at him. His eyes were enigmatic. “Ever the optimist, huh?”

“I just know what I’m doing,” Keith said.

Lee assessed him for what seemed like an eternity. “I hope,” Lee said. “I hope to hell you’re focused on what we’re doing.”

“I’m focused. You can count on it,” Keith said, and he knew his tone was grim.

“C’mon, then, let’s go play tourist,” Lee said.

“Sure. Be right there,” Keith said.

“Hey, we’re all in this together, you know,” Matt reminded him, his eyes narrowed.

“Yup.”

They were in it together, true. But the other two didn’t know that he’d been warned specifically to keep an eye on them.

“Damn, Keith, you’re acting bizarre,” Lee said, staring at him. “Think of what’s happened. Focus is the most important thing here.”

More important than human life? Keith wondered. “I’ll be right with you.”

“He’s working on that instinct thing he’s got going for him,” Matt said, shrugging. “Come on, Lee, let’s get started. Wonderboy will be along.”

Keith waited until they walked back toward the northern shore.

And then he began to search the clearing.

Oh, yeah. He was focused.

There were certain images a man could never quite get out of his mind. Dead men. Dead friends. Friends who’d had everything in the world to live for. Young. The best of the best.

He stiffened, listening. People were coming. The island was becoming more crowded by the minute. He swore softly.

“Hey there,” came a throaty, masculine voice.

A man of about sixty, followed by a petite young woman and two men about his own age, was entering the clearing.

“Hey,” Keith replied, stepping forward, a smile on his face.

Ah, yes, the masses had arrived. He didn’t know why he was suddenly so certain that he and his associates weren’t the only ones traveling incognito.

BETH AND THE GIRLS EMERGED from the lush greenery in the center of the island to reach the beach. It was beautiful. Once upon a time there had been a very small naval base on Calliope Key, a research center. It had been abandoned, but back toward the interior the ruins of the old buildings remained, allowing a safe haven of sorts if the weather turned really foul. Today, though, the sun was streaming down, a soft breeze was blowing, and the sea appeared incredibly serene.

Ben was on the beach, barefoot, in cutoffs and shades, dressed remarkably like the man who had just scared Beth. He glanced up when he saw them coming. “Back so soon? I thought you were exploring, seeing if there was anyone else around.”

At thirty-four, Beth thought, her brother was in his prime. He had, however, taken the task of raising his daughter to heart. Despite the fact that he had lost his wife years ago, he was still far more prone to spend his nights at home rather than out at the boat clubs—though he did belong to Rock Reef, where she worked as a social director—seeking companionship. Beth actually wished he would be more of a sinner at times. She knew how much Amber meant to him, but she was afraid that he wasn’t allowing much room in his life for the future. He had been madly in love with Amber’s mom, his high-school sweetheart, and nothing had ever changed his desire to see that Amber had everything he could provide, including his company—whether she wanted it or not, since Amber had reached that age where she wanted to spend her nights prowling the malls with her friends, rather than bonding with her dad. She adored him. She was simply being a teenager.

“We were exploring,” Beth said.

“We met a guy,” Amber said.

“Wicked cute,” Kimberly added.

Beth groaned.

“Wicked cute young, or wicked cute old?” Ben asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Wicked cute your age, or Aunt Beth’s age…well, I don’t know,” Amber said. “He’s not a kid, anyway.”

“Ah.” Ben winked at Beth. “They trying to play matchmaker?”

“I hope not,” she said too sharply.

“So, he wasn’t wicked cute?”

“Oh, no, he was good-looking.”

“But…?” Ben teased.

“Not my type,” she said quickly.

Amber sighed dramatically. “The two of you are hopeless.”

“He’s a total stranger, and you don’t go around trusting total strangers,” Beth snapped.

Ben arched a brow. She tended to be the one who nagged him to lighten up on Amber.

“Girls, go grab the barbecue equipment, will you?” Beth asked.

“She’s going to tell you about the skull,” Amber said.

“Skull?” Ben had been fiddling with one of the tent poles. He went still, staring at Beth with a wary question in his eyes.

“Kim stubbed her toe on something, and…I think it’s actually a skull,” Beth said.

“Did you…pick it up?” Ben asked.

“No, I thought you and I should go take a look. And then, if it’s what I think, radio the authorities. I didn’t want to dig it up with the girls there,” Beth said. She bit her lip. “Except…I’m not so sure we should leave them alone on the beach.”

Ben shook his head. “Beth, this island has been a boaters’ paradise forever.”

“I know that.”

“The naval base has been closed for decades—people who come here have boats and are…well, boat people.”

“I know that, too.”

“So…?” he said softly.

She cleared her throat, glancing at the girls, who clearly weren’t about to leave.

“Ben, damn it! Remember that couple…Ted and Molly Monoco?”

“What about them?” Ben asked, frowning.

“They were last seen here, on this island.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “So what? They had a state-of-the-art yacht and intended to sail around the world, Beth.”

“They disappeared. I heard it on the news several months ago,” she responded stubbornly.

Ben let out a deep sigh. “Beth, a friend called in, worried about them, that’s all. They might be anywhere. The news loves to turn anything into a tragedy.” He caught Amber’s eyes and grimaced. “Maybe your aunt does need to meet a tall dark hunk, huh?”

“Ben!”

“He was blondish!” Amber said, laughing.

“Okay, girls, you stay here and set stuff up, and Aunt Beth and I will go check out that skull.”

“I don’t think we should leave them alone,” Beth said.

“She’s afraid of the guy we met,” Amber explained.

“I’m not afraid of him,” Beth protested.

“It’s all right,” Ben said. “I just saw Hank and Amanda Mason, and her dad and a cousin, I think. They’re just down the beach. Girls, scream like hell if anyone comes near you, all right?”

Amanda Mason. Great. Normally, the concept of Amanda—who could be totally obnoxious—being around on the weekend would have bugged Beth to no end. At the moment, though, she was glad that the Masons were there on the beach.

Within screaming distance.

“You bet,” Kimberly said.

“Unless it’s a really hot guy with a beer,” Amber said.

That brought her father spinning around.

“Just kidding!” Amber said. “Dad, I’m joking. Aunt Beth? Tell him.”

“She’s just teasing you, Ben. Give it a break,” Beth told him.

He rolled his eyes, starting off ahead of her. “Why does she do that to me?” he demanded.

“Because you tend to be completely paranoid, and you’re on her tail like a bloodhound most of the time,” Beth told him, following him through the brush, pushing palm fronds out of her way.

“Right, and you’re not being just a little bit paranoid?”

“Ben, I honestly think we found a skull. I’m worried with reason. If you make Amber crazy enough, then you’ll have reason to worry, too.”

“You wait ’til you have kids,” he warned her, stopping and turning back to her. “She’s everything I’ve got,” he said softly.

Beth nodded. “So let go a little bit.”

“She’s only fourteen.”

“Just a little bit. Then she’ll come back to you and tell you all the wild stuff going on with her friends. You’ve got to let her live a little.”

He nodded, serious then.

They reached the clearing. It was empty.

“Okay, I don’t see any guy.”

“I hardly thought he would just stand around waiting,” Beth said.

“All right, then. Where’s the skull?”

“Right here…I pushed a palm frond over it.”

She walked over to where they had been. Tentatively, she moved away the fallen debris.

There was nothing there. Nothing at all. It didn’t even look as if the earth had been disturbed. “I…” She looked at her brother. He was staring at her with skepticism. “Damn it, Ben, the girls saw it, too!”

“So where is it?”

“I don’t know!” She stared around the clearing. There was plenty of debris about; area storms could be fierce, blowing hard against fragile palms and pines.

But though she kicked up every inch of the clearing, dragging away every palm frond and branch she could see, there was no sign of anything that so much as resembled a skull.

Then…

“Aha!” she cried, and dug, only to dig up a conch shell.

“There’s your skull,” Ben said.

“No, this isn’t it. Ben, I’m telling you, I saw a skull. And I didn’t dig it up while the kids were here because it looked like there was still hair attached, even rotting flesh.”

“Come on, Beth. You’re too into CSI and Autopsy onetwo-three-four-and-up-to-fifty-or-a-hundred-or-whateverit-is-now. I’m heading back to the campsite.”

“Ben!”

“What?” he demanded, turning back to stare at her.

“I’m telling you, there was a skull. And then there was that guy—”

“You know what, Beth? I’m a guy, a lawyer, and yes, I tend to be a little nervous because I know the kinds of people who are out there in the world. Hell, I have a gun, and I know how to use it. But think about it, Beth. You just saw the guy a few minutes ago. And what you thought was a skull had to be down to the bone.”

“Not completely,” she murmured, feeling a little ill.

“Beth,” Ben argued, “how could a guy who just got here be responsible for a skull that may or may not exist, and, if so, is almost down to the bone? I am not going to ruin this weekend with my daughter and her friend, so please…”

She stood up, dusting off her hands again, lips pursed. She nodded. “I know it’s the weekend. I know that it’s bond-withyour-daughter time. Yes, we’ll have a good time. I promise.”

He started back along the trail to the beach.

Beth hesitated. She felt night coming, felt the breeze whispering through her hair.

Could she have been mistaken?

No!

Damn it! She had seen it, and it had been a skull. A human skull. So where the hell was it now?

A chill settled over her.

Had he taken it?

Was the skull the reason he had come to the island?

The palm fronds around her began to whisper. She turned quickly toward the trail. “Ben?”

Her brother didn’t reply.

She glanced around quickly, then called out again, “Ben! Wait for me!”

With those words on her lips, she raced after him, clinging to the words he had said to her.

I have a gun, and I know how to use it.

But did he have it with him?

And what if the other guy had a gun and knew how to use it, too?

2

“THERE’S YOUR GUY,” BEN SAID as they walked back onto the beach. He pointed down a stretch of sand.

And indeed, there he was. Along with two other men, one dark and Hispanic looking, the other a blazing redhead, he was securing a large tent pole in the sand. They had respected the silent privacy rule all boaters who used the island obeyed, staking out their territory a distance away from anyone else. From where they stood, Beth couldn’t make out the expressions of any of the men.

The redhead stopped working, however, elbowed Keith, pointed toward them, then waved.

Ben waved in return.

“You’re not waving to your new hottie,” Ben teased.

“He’s not my anything,” Beth retorted.

“The girls were impressed.”

“The girls are young and impressionable,” she snapped.

Her brother looked at her quizzically. “What is the matter with you?”

“Nothing. It’s just that, no matter what, I know I saw a skull.”

“Which we couldn’t find.”

“No,” she admitted. “But I’m telling you, there was something there. That guy was there, too. And now the thing isn’t there, and the same guy is on the beach!”

“I can walk over and ask him if he just dug up a skull,” Ben said.

She glared at him. “And if he did, he’s just going to say yes?”

“Beth, what do you want me to do?” Ben demanded, shaking his head.

“Be careful.”

“All right, I’ll be afraid. Very afraid.”

“Ben…”

“Beth, honestly, I’m not ignoring what you said. But don’t ignore what I said, either. I’m capable of watching out for my own family. I never forget that I have two teenagers in my care when I take the girls out. Okay, you got spooked and you remembered that missing couple. But I read the stories, too. They wanted to explore the world, take off by themselves. They planned on an endless trip, on going wherever they chose.”

“But still, they just…disappeared,” Beth said stubbornly.

“Beth, it’s legal for adults to disappear, if they want to.”

“Their friends were concerned.”

“Maybe they wanted an escape from their friends,” Ben suggested.

“Who would do that?” Beth demanded.

“Beth, please. This is a weekend. We’re here to have fun. Just let it go, okay?”

She exhaled loudly in exasperation, spinning away from him and heading toward the girls. The were studying a Hollywood-gossip magazine and seemed to have forgotten that they might have stumbled across human remains.

But Amber looked up when Beth hunched down and joined them in the little outer “room” of their tent.

“Was it a skull?” she asked.

“I don’t know. It wasn’t there anymore.”

A strange look filtered through Amber’s eyes.

“Do you think he took it?” Kim demanded.

“Shh,” Amber commanded. “He’s here.”

Beth’s head jerked around. The man who had introduced himself as Keith Henson was there—standing just outside the tents, where Ben had been building a small fire to cook their evening meal.

The other two were also there: the tall, lean, redhead and the darker man with the stockier, well-muscled build.

Beth overheard introductions and realized her brother was telling Keith that she had mentioned meeting him earlier.

Beth sprang into action, hurrying out. The girls followed her quickly. More introductions were made. The other two were Lee Gomez and Matt Albright.

Keith was still wearing the sunglasses, allowing no insight to his thoughts. He was smiling, however, and Beth had to admit that he was gorgeous, with classic bone structure that also offered a solidly sculpted strength. Lee Gomez was also striking, with his dark good looks, and Matt, though freckled, gave the initial impression of the charming boy next door.

“Keith was just saying that they brought a portable grill and have enough fresh fish to feed an army,” Ben said.

She stared at her brother. He wanted them to join these strangers?

“I’ve also made a mean potato salad,” Lee offered, grinning.

“We must have something to offer, don’t we?” Ben asked Beth.

“The salad,” Amber answered for her. “We have chips, too, tons of soda and some beer.”

“Sounds great. We’re right down the beach. Hopefully the alluring aromas will bring you right over,” Matt said.

“Well?” Ben asked her.

“Of course,” Beth said, seeing no graceful way out of it.

“We met some other people, down the beach on the other side,” Keith said. “They said they know you. They’ll be joining us, too.”

“Oh, the Masons,” Ben said.

“That’s right. The Masons are here,” Beth murmured. She could see Hank’s yacht, Southern Light, out on the water. She was a fine vessel, forty-five feet, forty years old, but her motor had been completely rebuilt and the interior redone. She was often referred to as the Grand Dame at the club.

“Actually, I’m not straight on exactly who’s who yet. Except for Amanda,” Keith said.

Of course he’d gotten Amanda right. She was five-five, shaped like an hourglass, with blue eyes and light blond hair. Few men ever missed Amanda.

“There’s an older man,” Lee said.

“Roger Mason, her dad,” Beth said.

“Hank has to be here,” Ben said. “Amanda’s cousin. The boat’s his.”

“Yes, right. Hank. And the other guy is…”

“Probably Gerald, another cousin,” Beth said. “He lives just up the coast from the rest of the family, in Boca Raton.”

“So…they’re all cousins?” Matt asked, a hopeful note in his voice.

“Hank, Amanda and Gerald are cousins—second cousins, I think,” Ben said.

He hadn’t seemed to notice the hope in the question. He wouldn’t, Beth thought. He was always too busy being a father.

“There’s a young couple camping just beyond them,” Keith said. Even though Beth couldn’t see his eyes, she knew he was staring straight at her. “Maybe you know them, too. Brad Shaw and a woman named Sandy Allison?”

She shook her head. “The names aren’t familiar.” Again she looked out to the water.

She had missed the fourth boat because it was anchored just beyond Hank’s Southern Light.

The last vessel was a small pleasure craft. She looked as if she needed paint, and she probably offered no more than a small head, galley, and perhaps room enough for two to sleep in the forward section. There were lots of small boats docked at the club, and some of those—especially the motorboats—were incredibly expensive.

On the other hand, some of them weren’t. One of the things Beth had always liked about working at the club was the fact that the people there were honestly dedicated to the water. They came from all life’s corners, just like their boats did. The initial membership fee was steep, but after that, the annual dues were reasonable, so people from all different social strata could afford to join, once they saved up the initial investment. She was also proud that the club specialized in lessons in sailing, swimming, diving and water safety.

At the club, though, no matter how inexpensive any of their boats might be, the members, even the broke ones, took pleasure in caring for them—unlike the sad little vessel out beyond Southern Light.

“Four boats,” Beth murmured.

“Anyway,” Keith said, “we’ve asked everyone over to our little patch of beach.”

“Great,” Ben said.

“Come on over whenever you feel like it,” Keith said. “We’re not far,” he said, indicating the short stretch of sand that separated the two camps.

“Want help?” Amber asked enthusiastically.

Beth was tempted to grasp her niece’s arm.

“I think we’ve got it under control,” Keith said gravely. “But if you need help hauling chips and salad, you let us know.”

He had dimples and a pleasant way with the girls. He wasn’t inappropriate or flirtatious—as some older men would have been, just nice. He should have seemed charming, Beth knew, but she was too suspicious of him for that.

“We’ll see you down there in a bit,” Lee said.

The three men waved and started off down the sand. Ben turned to Beth. “Feel better?” he asked her.

She stared at her brother, shaking her head.

“What? Still scared? Nothing’s going to happen. Some of the other members from the yacht club will be with us,” he reminded her.

Ben was a member. She was the social manager, and she loved her job and most of the members, who were always pleasant and appreciative.

Then there was Amanda.

Luckily she wasn’t there on a daily—or even weekly—basis. Hank was the real boat fanatic. It had been his father who had first joined the club, which had been formed back in 1910. Originally it had been just two lifelong friends, Commodore Isaak and Vice Commodore Gleason, who had gotten together to drink and chat in their retirement. By the 1920s, there had been ten members, rising to nearly a hundred before World War II. With far too many able-bodied sailors in the navy, the facility had been used for a while as rehab for returnees. The 1950s had seen a resurgence in membership, and it had become a casual place in the seventies. When the hippies became yuppies in the nineties, the price of membership had soared. At the moment, there were about two hundred members, a hundred of those with boat slips, and at least fifty who could be considered fairly active. Ben and Beth’s father had been a commodore, and with his passing, Ben had taken up the family participation in the place.

Beth, with a degree in public relations, had taken a job.

Had she realized that she would be dealing with the Amandas of the world, she might have thought twice. Amanda was the type to drop a letter on her desk and, without looking at her, tell her that she needed copies. She complained at the slightest mistake made by any of the help. Two waitresses in the dining room had quit in tears after serving her.

Ben didn’t jump when Amanda was around; he seemed to be immune to her wickedly sensual charm and oblivious to her frequent vicious abrasiveness.

There was no use trying to explain Amanda to her brother. He would just think it was feminine envy.

“Having them here makes everything just perfect,” she assured him dully.

“Amanda,” Amber said, making a face.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Is something the matter with her?” he demanded.

“Dad, she’s a bitch.”

“Amber!”

“It’s not really a bad word,” Amber said.

“Not like a four-letter word or anything,” Kim added hastily.

“Beth,” Ben said, “aren’t you going to say something?”

She shrugged. “They’re calling it as they see it,” she told him.

He frowned. “I don’t like that language.”

“Amber, your father doesn’t like that language. Please don’t use it.”

“All right,” Amber said, “Miss Mason is a rude, manipulative snake, how’s that?”

“With really big boobs,” Kim added.

“Kim…” Ben protested.

“Sorry,” Kim said, without meaning it in the least.

Ben pointed a finger sternly. “You will be polite.”

“Of course,” Beth said. “I mean, she’s always so polite to me.”

Ben groaned out loud and turned away, walking to the spot where he had pitched his own tent, his back to them. “Maybe you’ll like the new people better,” he said irritably over his shoulder.

She could hardly like them any less, Beth thought.

It wasn’t exactly as if they were going out, but Beth chose to throw a cover-up on over her bathing suit, and the girls did likewise. They hauled their coolers with sodas and beer, and their contribution of salad and chips, down to the meeting point before any of the Mason family appeared but just after the arrival of the new couple, Sandy Allison and Brad Shaw.

She had sandy hair that matched her name and pleasant amber eyes, a medium build and was of medium height. She wore a terry cover-up and sandals, while Brad, about six feet even, with the same sandy hair but green eyes, was still in swim boxers with a cotton surf shirt over his shoulders. They were both cheerful and hailed from the West Coast, according to Brad.

“Love it here, though,” he assured them. “When we’re diving, I feel like I could stay down forever.”

“Absolutely gorgeous,” Sandy agreed, slipping an arm around his waist. “There are areas here when you can practically walk right from the beach to the reef.”

“Dangerous for ships. Well, at one time,” Keith put in, handing Brad a beer. “The area is very well charted now.”

“Well, it has been a few years since the first Europeans made landfall,” Beth murmured.

Keith looked sharply at her. She should have guessed. His eyes were a deep, dark, true brown, rimmed with black lashes that were striking against the light color of his hair and the bronze of his face.

“A few ships did miss those reefs,” he murmured, and turned back to the men. “Lee has some equipment on his boat that would do the navy proud.”

“So you’re not a boater yourself, Mr. Henson?” Beth asked. She hadn’t meant for it to sound as if she was heading an inquisition, but it did.

“I am. We’re just here with Lee’s boat,” he said.

Here from where? she wondered.

She could just ask the question, of course, and immediately spoke before she could think better of it.

“So where are you three down here from?” she asked, hoping she didn’t sound as suspicious as she felt.

Lee looked at Matt and Ben, then shrugged. “We’re from all over, really. I was born here.”

“On the island?” she teased.

“Vero Beach,” he said.

“I’m your original Yankee from Boston,” Matt said.

“Great city,” Beth said, looking at Keith.

“Virginia,” he said.

“But you must know something about these waters,” Beth said. “This island isn’t exactly on the tourist routes.”

“I told you, I’m originally from Vero Beach,” Lee reminded her. “The locals use the island a lot.”

“It’s our first time camping out here, though,” Keith said.

“So how do you know each other?” she asked, unable to stop herself from probing. “Are you business associates?”

“Dive buddies,” Keith said. “Hey, here come your friends.”

Whatever her opinion of Amanda, Beth had to admit that the Masons were one attractive family. Roger was fiftysomething but had the build of an athlete, and, so she had heard, competed with the young studs at the nightclubs on the beach. Hank was blond and blue-eyed, like his cousin, but he was all man, with a broad bronzed chest and shoulders. Gerald was a shade darker, but obviously a family member.

“Ben!” Amanda cried, sounding as delighted as if she’d met a long-lost relative. She hadn’t bothered with a cover-up and was clad in only a small bikini.

A string bikini at that.

Her hair was loose and falling around her shoulders in a perfect golden cloak.

“She’s indecent,” Amber whispered from behind Beth.

“Totally,” Kim agreed.

“She does it awfully well,” Beth murmured, watching the woman.

While Amanda was greeting Ben, Hank looked over her head and saw Beth and the girls. He offered a real smile. “Hey there.”

“Hi, Hank,” Beth called.

“Hey, you remember our cousin Gerald, right?” Amanda said.

“Absolutely.” By then the two men had walked over to her. Hank gave her a kiss on the cheek and greeted the two girls. Gerald took her hand. “Small world, huh?”

“Not really, considering how close we are to home,” she told him.

“True,” he said with a laugh, then turned to the girls. “Amber, if you get any taller, you’ll be giving me a run for the money. And…don’t tell me, it’s…Kimmy, right?”

“Kim,” the girl corrected.

“Kim,” he agreed. She blushed slightly. He was nice, not condescending, and it was apparently appreciated.

“Fish all right for everyone?” Keith called out. “We’ve got hot dogs and hamburger patties, as well, for any landlubbers.”

“I’d love a hot dog,” Kim called out, hurrying toward the barbecue. A pleasant aroma was already beginning to emanate from the portable cooker. Amber followed her friend, leaving Beth behind with the other adults.

“Beth, how nice to see you here,” Amanda said. She walked over, perfect smile in place. “You have the weekend off?” she asked politely, as if surprised.

“Hello, Amanda. Yes, I have the weekend off.”

Amanda looked disapproving. “I would have thought they really needed you, what with the tourists and all. I suppose the club really does run itself. Still, I’m surprised the commodore didn’t want your lovely face around.”

“I’m sure he can manage on his own for a few days,” Beth said sweetly. “Have you met Sandy and Brad?”

“Briefly,” Amanda said, turning.

It was enough for Beth.

She escaped.

To get anywhere, though, she had to pass the barbecue, since the three men had their tents set up in the other direction, and if she made a point of going around the barbecue, she would be heading inland, into the dense foliage, rather than along the sand.

She had nearly made it past when Amber caught her arm. “Aunt Beth, come see. Everything looks perfect!”

She smiled weakly as Keith expertly flipped a fillet, then shook a mixture of seasonings onto it.

“That looks great,” Amber told him, though her enthusiasm sounded forced.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather have a hot dog, like Kim?” He laughed at her grateful expression and put another hot dog on the grill.

“You guys are ready for all occasions,” Beth murmured. She was wedged between her niece and Keith Henson. They were almost touching. Almost. Not quite.

“Well, it’s not that I can’t—we can’t—rough it, but a few conveniences are nice,” he said. He looked at her. The sun was slipping lower toward the horizon, and in the deepening shadows, his eyes seemed darker than ever. She felt as if he was staring at her with the same suspicion she felt for him.

“We have two-bedroom tents!” Amber said.

“I’m not really sure you could call them bedrooms,” Beth murmured.

“Well, I only have a one-bedroom tent,” Keith said. “But it’s still a convenience when it rains. What I really like is just to sleep on the sand and stare up at the stars.”

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Amber agreed.

“I think your dad wants you in the tent tonight,” Beth said, once again afraid her words sounded sharper than she’d intended.

She saw Keith’s lips tighten as he tried to hide a smile. Yes, she was definitely on edge, and it was showing.

“Amber?” Ben called, and she scampered off, Kim following in her wake.

“So, have you got padlocks on those tents?” Keith asked.

She flushed, but stared defiantly back at him. “You’re strangers,” she said, feeling that no other explanation was needed.

The smile he had been hiding turned into a deep grin that brought out his dimples once again. “So are Brad and Sandy.”

“They’re not three guys.”

“Are you sure we’re not going to poison the fish?” he asked.

“I hadn’t thought of it,” she admitted, but stared at him with a grim smile. “Maybe I should have.”

“Ouch. That’s a challenge. I can take a bite of yours first, if you want.”

“I’ll live dangerously.”

He looked out across the sand, then at her. “Do you come here often?”

“Yes. Well, usually. Not this year. This is the first time this year.” She didn’t know why she was stumbling around to explain. She didn’t owe him any explanations. She kept talking anyway. “We spent our vacation in the Bahamas this year. This used to be the last weekend of summer vacation. Now, the girls have already been back at school for a few weeks. And for Christmas, we all went to Denver. Even though it’s so close, this is the first time we’ve been out here this year. And you?”

“I’ve dived the area dozens of times,” he said, turning his attention to the fish once again. “But there was never really any reason to stop at the island.”

“I thought Lee was the one who knew the area,” she reminded him sharply.

He smiled. “Lee knows it best. But I have been here before. Just not to this island.”

“So why now?” she demanded.

He arched a brow. He was answering slowly, she thought. Too slowly. “Well…” He laughed. “Because it’s here, I guess.”

“So you’re really here for the diving? Not the fishing?”

“Obviously we’ve been fishing.” He smiled and nodded toward the grill.

“But you’re mainly here to dive.”

“Has it suddenly become illegal?” he queried, laughter in his eyes again.

“Of course not.”

“I love diving here,” he told her, and she felt that he was being totally honest at that moment. Actually, she couldn’t think of anything he’d said that hadn’t sounded honest. Was she being ridiculously suspicious? Even if she had seen a skull, Ben was right. There was no reason to suspect that a man appearing then would have anything to do with a skull that had been on the beach for days, maybe longer. So why was she so suspicious?

Because he frightened her in too many ways?

“Excuse me. I think I’ll get a beer,” she murmured, slipping past him, but she intended a smooth exit. She stepped a little too quickly and a little too close. She felt the tension in his muscles, then nearly careened sideways into him.

“Excuse me,” she murmured again, afraid she was blushing. She hurried away and walked right past the cooler, then remembered she had said she was going for a beer. She quickly secured one, then went to stand by her brother’s side.

Sandy and Brad were telling stories about diving the Great Barrier Reef. She had to admit that she’d never been.

Amanda, however, could agree with them on the beauty of the dive.

“Such a long flight, though,” Sandy said.

“Oh, it was really a lovely jaunt for me,” Amanda gushed. “We went with some of Father’s associates, sailed for months and saw zillions of islands, and then went on to Australia. The week in Fiji was my favorite, I think. Though Tahiti was fabulous, too. We had such a darling little place there. While the yacht was being cleaned, we had charming and very private rooms right on the beach. The sunrises were exquisite, the sunsets even more so.”

“Hey, all we have to do is step out of our tents tomorrow morning for the same effect,” Keith said, arriving with a large plate of grilled fish. “There are some fantastic sunrises right here.” He offered Amanda a broad smile. Flirtatious? Or intended to take some of the sting out of his reminder that their own home offered a world-class beauty.

“Oh, yes, this area is fabulous, as well.” Amanda smiled meaningfully at Beth. “Especially when you really can’t go anywhere else.”

Beth smiled back, all the while envisioning dumping the ice in the cooler over the woman’s head.

“Soup’s on!” Matt announced cheerfully.

There were a few camp chairs, and Matt had spread blankets out on the sand. A looped palm offered a few seats perfectly created by nature, and with her plate filled with fish and potato salad, Beth found herself claiming the tree as a chair. Hank took the seat next to her, but when Amanda called to him, begging him to get her something to drink, he left, and she found herself being joined by Keith. She wondered if he was seeking her out on purpose. And then she wondered why. She didn’t have a lack of confidence, it was just that…well, Amanda Mason was there, and she was the far better flirt, on top of being an undeniably alluring woman.

“So you work for a yacht club?” Keith asked.

“Yes.” She waved a hand in the air. “I work for it. They belong to it.”

He laughed. “Are you supposed to be the poor little rich girl or something?”

She shook her head, looking at him. “I like working there. It’s fun.” She hesitated, wondering why she kept feeling compelled to explain things to him. “My brother is a member, so if I weren’t working there, I’d have all his privileges. Working there pays well, and I get free dockage, which Ben uses, since employees get that perk and members don’t, and he owns a boat and I don’t. I see some of the most luxurious and beautiful yachts in the world. And meet some of the nicest people. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” He offered her a slow, wry smile.

“Mostly,” she repeated, refusing to say more. Had the tension in her relationship with Amanda been so evident to a stranger?

“It’s always interesting when you get around boats,” he said. “Some people are as rich as Croesus and you’d never know it, they’re just so down to earth. Some are as poor as church mice, putting everything they have into staying on the water. And they’re just as nice. But don’t ever kid yourself. The sea can breed demons.”

She looked up at him, startled, but he was rising, looking toward the group that had drawn around the fire.

Had he been warning her about something?

Maybe himself?

The light had faded in earnest. No more deep blues, purples, streaks of gold or any other color. Night had come.

In the far distance, a faint glow could be seen, coming from the lights along the heavily populated coast of south Florida. But on the island, there was nothing except for the glow from the fire. Around them, the foliage of the inner island had become blanketed in shadows.

The wind stirred, creating a rustle.

“The girls want to hear some ghost stories,” Lee called out to Keith.

“I said pirate stories,” Amber said, laughing.

“Pirates would be ghosts, by now,” Ben told his daughter, amused.

“Most of the time,” Keith said, moving toward the fire. “Except that there are modern-day pirates. All over the world.”

“Too real,” Amanda protested with a shiver. Of course, she was still clad in nothing but the skinny bathing suit. Sure, they were on a semitropical island. But the sea breezes at night could be cool.

Keith noticed her discomfort. He slipped off his shirt and draped it around her shoulders. She flashed him a beautiful smile. He smiled back.

It was a simple gesture of courtesy, but it made Beth lower her head, wondering how she could allow someone like Amanda to irritate her so much.

“Okay, so we want an old-fashioned pirate ghost story, right?” Keith asked. He didn’t remain behind Amanda but strode toward the center of the group, closer to the fire. He hunkered down by the flames, forcing Beth to wonder if he was aware that the flames added a haunting quality to his classic features.

“I’ll tell you the tale of the Sea Star and La Doña. Both were proud ships with billowing white sails! But one was English, and the other sailed under the flag of Spain. The Sea Star sailed from London in the year of our Lord 1725. Her captain was a fierce man, loyal to the core to the king. England and Spain were hardly on the best of terms, and Jonathan Pierce, the captain, was eager to seize a Spanish ship full of gold from the New World.

“Captain Pierce, however, wasn’t sailing alone. Along with his crew, he was carrying a party of nobility. One of them was the Lady Marianne Howe, daughter of the governor of one of the small islands, and he was unaware that a year earlier, her ship had run aground on coral shoals and she’d been saved by a handsome young Spaniard, Alonzo Jimenez. Of course, under the circumstances, despite the fact that the young Spaniard and his crew had simply returned the Englishmen and women he had rescued to the governor in Virginia—asking no ransom, no reward, and ignoring the hostilities between the countries—there could be no happy ending for Marianne and Alonzo. Not only was he a Spaniard, but an untitled one, at that.

“Still, Marianne had managed to keep in contact with him, smuggling out love letters. She was ready to cast aside her title, her fortune and her family, all for Alonzo. He had arranged to hide his ship here, around the curve of Calliope Key—”

“Calliope Key?” Kim interrupted. “Where we are now?”

“Of course. What good would a ghost story be if it weren’t about this island?” Keith asked, smiling slightly.

His voice was perfect for the tale, Beth thought. It was a rich, deep voice. She had to admit that she was as seduced as the others.

“Oh, right,” Amber murmured.

Beth looked at her niece with a certain amusement. Amber was—and always had been—capable of sitting through the scariest horror movie. Now, however, her eyes were very wide.

Keith Henson—whatever he was really up to—had a talent for storytelling. With the strange fire glow on his face and the deep, intense rasp of his voice, he held them all enthralled.

“Go on,” Ben said, his profound interest surprising Beth.

“Well, the young lovers never intended harm toward anyone. Marianne was a strong swimmer. She simply meant to get close enough to her lover’s ship to escape into the sea, then find refuge on the island until he could come to her. With any luck, the Sea Star would have been long gone before anyone noticed she wasn’t aboard.

“But while Marianne was conducting her daring escape into the sea, Captain Pierce was sending spies out in his small boats to get the lay of the land—well, the sea. Just as Marianne was reaching shore, news reached Pierce about the Spaniard hiding past the reefs. He manned his guns. Meanwhile, Alonzo had taken a boat to shore…this shore, right here, where our fire now burns. Just as he and Marianne met, the first cannons exploded. It was a fierce battle, and Alonzo was brokenhearted, watching his friends lead the fight…and die. His ship, La Doña, was sunk. Many of his men tried to swim to shore but were cut down by the English before they could reach landfall. Marianne was desperate that her lover not be caught, but Alonzo was brave to a fault. When Captain Pierce came ashore, following the Spanish crew, he prepared to fight. Their swords clashed so hotly that sparks flew. Then Captain Pierce was unarmed. He had lost the fight. Alonzo, however, refused to deliver the coup de grâce. He stepped back, and said that all he wanted was a small boat for himself and Marianne. Captain Pierce showed no gratitude for the fact that his life had been spared. His men came upon them, and he ordered that Alonzo should hang. Marianne was hysterical, heartbroken, and ashamed that her countryman could behave with so little honor. As Alonzo was dragged away, Pierce assured her that she would forget their enemy, and that he would be her new lover and her husband. Marianne wiped away her tears and approached him, and no doubt Captain Pierce assumed she was ready to accept his offer. But she reached into his belt and drew his pistol. She shot him dead, but too late to save her lover, for even as the shot rang out, Alonzo swung from the hangman’s rope, crying out her name and his love—right before his neck snapped. Marianne, desperate in her grief, turned the gun on herself.

“And as that shot went off, the Sea Star suddenly moved…drifting out to sea. The Englishmen on the island, stunned and frozen by what had occurred before their eyes, moved too slowly. They raced for their longboats and made to sea. But neither they nor the Sea Star were ever seen again. Sometimes, they say, at night, the ship can be seen, riding the wind and the waves, only to disappear into the clouds or over the horizon.”

“Oh…” Sandy breathed.

“And what about Marianne, Alonzo and Captain Pierce?” Amber asked.

“They haunt the island, of course,” Keith said. “At night, when you hear whispering in the breeze, when the palm fronds move, when the wind moans…what you hear is their voices as they roam the island for eternity.”

“Oh, jeez,” Kim groaned.

“Oh…” Amber breathed.

Keith looked at Ben apologetically, afraid that his story had been too effective.

“You’re not scared, are you?” Kim demanded.

“Of course not,” Amber protested. She laughed, but it was a brittle sound. “Don’t be silly. Sandy, you’re not scared, are you?”

“About staying on a haunted island?” Sandy asked. “No. I mean, the tents are all pretty close together on the beach when you think about it, right? Of course, I do wish Brad and I were one of the groups in the middle.”

“I’m sure we’re just fine,” Amanda said.

“I think it will be fun,” Brad teased. “Sandy’s going to be all cuddly tonight, I assure you.”

“Oh, my God!” Amber exclaimed.

“What?” Ben demanded.

“Dad…we might have found one of them today. One of the ghosts!”

“It’s just a story,” Keith said. “You asked for a ghost story and—”

“No, no, there was a skull. At least…we thought it was a skull,” Amber said.

Ben groaned loudly. “Girls, one of you stubbed a toe on a conch shell. There was no skull. Enough with the scary talk, okay?” he said firmly.

Beth kept her mouth shut, wincing. And not because Ben was annoyed, but because she was suddenly more frightened than ever herself. The girls had just let everyone know they had seen a skull.

And someone here, someone sharing the island with them, had taken that skull for reasons of their own. Reasons that couldn’t be ignored.

“It’s easy to imagine things out here,” Matt said easily. “I promise you, there are no ghosts here.”

“But lots of ghost stories supposedly have some truth to them. There were shipwrecks all around here. I’ll bet the story is true, and that the ghosts whispered it in your ear,” Amber said.

“Okay, that’s a scary thought!” Sandy said, shivering.

“It’s getting better and better for me, girls. Please, go on,” Brad said, laughing, but also trying to ease the fear the girls seemed to feel.

“We’re in the Bermuda Triangle, too, aren’t we?” Amanda asked, rising. “Luckily, I don’t have a superstitious bone in my body.” She stretched, and Keith’s shirt fell from her shoulders. She reached down languidly to pick it up and slowly walked—or sashayed—over to Keith to return it. “Besides,” she said softly, “there are a lot of handsome, well-muscled men around here to protect us if we need it. Well, good night, all.”

Her cousins and father rose to join her, saying their thank-yous as they rose.

The group began to break up, everyone laughing, promising to see each other in the morning.

As they returned to their tents, Beth was silent.

“Aunt Beth, are you afraid of ghosts?” Amber asked.

“No,” she assured her niece.

“Then what are you afraid of?” Amber persisted.

Beth glanced self-consciously over at Ben. “The living,” she said softly.

Her brother sighed, shaking his head. “Just like good old Captain Pierce, I carry a gun. And I won’t let anyone close enough to use it against me,” he assured her.

A few minutes later they had all retired, Ben and Beth to their “one-bedroom” tents and the girls to the large “two-bedroom” Ben had recently purchased for his daughter. None of them were more than ten feet apart, with the girls situated between the adults.

Amber and Kim kept a light on, and Beth found herself hoping their supply of batteries would be sufficient. She could hear the girls giggling, probably inventing ghost stories. She told herself that people were simply susceptible to the dark, to shadows, whispers on the breeze, and the dark intent of a tale told by firelight.

But she was uneasy herself. She reminded herself that she had been uneasy long before Keith’s ghost story.

It’s just a story, he’d said. A good story, told on the spur of the moment.

And it hadn’t scared her. Not a silly—even sad—ghost story.

Yet…she was scared.

Despite her unease, she eventually drifted off to sleep. Her dreams were disjointed, snatches of conversation, visions that seemed to dance before her, never really taking shape until she saw, in her mind’s eye, a beautiful young girl in eighteenth-century dress, a handsome Spaniard and a sea captain, sword in hand….

The sea captain—arresting, exciting, masculine—took on the appearance of someone familiar…Keith Henson.

Sadly, even in her dream, the beautiful young girl looked like Amanda.

She tossed and turned as the dream unfolded, more like a play with the director continually calling, “Cut!” than a real dream.

And then she heard the wind rise, a rustling in the brush…

She awakened, a sense of panic taking hold of her. Her palms were clammy, her limbs icy.

It was just a nightmare, she told herself.

Except it wasn’t just a nightmare.

Nearby, the foliage was rustling. Someone was creeping about in the stygian darkness.

Pirates had definitely frequented this area, once upon a time.

Spanish galleons had carried gold.

Had Keith truly only been telling a tall tale?

Because human nature never changed. Piracy still existed. She wasn’t frightened by anything sad that might have occurred in the past, because the present could be frightening enough.

Someone was out there. Not a ghost.

Someone very much alive.

3

NIGHT MOVES.

He had expected them.

Someone on the island was playing games.

Innocent games? Searching for legends?

Or games with far more deadly intent?

Keith rose silently and waited just inside his tent, listening, trying to determine from which direction the noises were coming. There was a breeze, so the trees continued to rustle. But he had heard far more than the subtle movement of the palm fronds in the soft, natural wind of the night.

Whoever it was, they had slipped across the sand and into the dense foliage of the interior.

Looking for a skull?

Or was there something more, something entirely different, going on? Perhaps he shouldn’t have told his ghost story. But he had told it on purpose, watching the others closely for their reactions. In the end, though, he’d learned nothing except that everyone seemed awfully easy to spook.

But had he caused this movement in the night?

He eased slowly, silently, from the tent and started across the white sand. Just ahead, barely discernible, the rustling sound came again.

Suddenly there was a light ahead, as if whoever was there felt they had gone far enough not to be noticed.

With the appearance of the light, he knew for certain he wasn’t chasing some nocturnal animal through the trees.

He followed, quickening his pace as he left the beach behind.

FEAR KEPT BETH DEAD STILL for several seconds until her instinct to protect the girls rose to the fore.

She almost burst from the tent, to find…

Nothing. Nothing but the sea by night, the soft sound of the gentle waves washing the shore, a nearby palm bent ever so slightly in homage to the breeze.

She went still, looking around, listening.

Still nothing. She told herself she needed to get a grip. She had never been the cowardly type, and stories were just that: stories. There were real dangers in life, but she had always dealt with them. She didn’t walk through dangerous neighborhoods alone at night. She carried pepper spray, and she’d learned how to use it. She even knew how to shoot, since their friends included several cops, who’d taken her to the shooting range and taught her how to handle a gun, though she didn’t choose to keep one, since her house had an alarm system.

So why was she panicking?

Because in her heart of hearts, no matter what anyone said, she was certain she had seen a skull. And it hadn’t belonged to any long-dead pirate.

No one nearby, no sounds now. She still had to check on the girls.

First she looked down the beach. All the fires were out, and she could see the tents, silent in the night. Keith and his buddies had tied a hammock to a couple of palms, where it swung ever so slightly in the breeze. Down from them, another group of tents, and farther still, a larger tent, all of them quiet and dark.

She hurried over to the girls’ tent and looked in, her heart in her throat. But both of them were in the second of the two little rooms, and they were soundly sleeping. Their light was still on, turning their small bedroom into an oasis and everything around it into a black hole.

She exhaled in relief and started backing out—straight into something solid, large.

In her, terror rose and she screamed.

KEITH HEARD THE SCREAM and froze, his blood congealing at the terror in that shrill sound.

In a split second, he was back in action.

The scream had come from the beach.

Beth!

The light ahead went out, but he ignored it and turned, tearing through the brush, desperate to reach her.

SHE LET OUT A SECOND, terrified scream; then she swung around, ready to fight to the death on behalf of the girls.

There was no need.

“Dammit, Beth,” a voice swore fiercely in the night. “What the hell are you doing?”

She blinked, drawing back with just seconds to spare before giving her brother a black eye.

“Ben?”

“Who the hell did you expect?”

“You scared me to death,” she accused him.

“What’s going on?” Amber asked nervously, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she crawled from the bedroom.

Kim followed, and the four of them wound up in the small outer room of the tent, tripping over one another.

“Nothing,” Ben said irritably.

Just then, as Amber tried to stand, she bumped one of the poles and the tent collapsed on them.

Ben tried never to swear around his daughter, but tangled in the nylon, tasting sand, Beth could hear him breaking his rule beneath his breath.

“It’s all right. The tent just fell,” she heard herself protesting.

But when she twisted to free herself, she only became more entangled.

Then the fabric was lifted from her, and, looking up, she saw the face of Keith Henson, tense and taut as he stared down at her.

“What the hell is going on?” he demanded curtly.

“Nothing,” she snapped.

“You screamed.”

By then Ben had managed to escape the mess of poles and nylon and make it to his feet. He was shaking his head disgustedly.

“Sorry, everyone.”

When she looked around, still on her back, she saw that everyone was there, flashlights shining. Had she really screamed that loudly?

Well, of course she had.

And she was still flat on her back in an oversize T-shirt riding up her thighs, staring up at everyone. Just as the thought occurred to her, Keith reached a hand down to her. At that particular moment, she didn’t think twice about accepting it.

His grip was powerful. She was on her feet before she knew it.

“What is going on?” Amanda demanded, swiping back an errant piece of blond hair. Even at night, Beth noticed dejectedly, Amanda looked great. Like a soap-opera character who awoke in the morning with perfect makeup and shiny teeth.

“Are you all right?” Hank asked, polite as always.

Roger, definitely the oldest in the crowd, set an arm on his daughter’s shoulder and looked over at Beth, smiling, as well. “Maybe we should avoid ghost stories at night,” he said easily.

She tried to smile. And then apologize. “I’m really sorry. I woke up, and went to check on the girls. And then, backing out, I ran into my brother, who was apparently checking on why I was checking on the girls. There were too many of us in too small a space. I guess I woke everyone. I’m sorry.” Except, of course, she was certain that she hadn’t awakened everyone.

Someone had already been up and creeping around the island.

Who?

It was impossible now to tell, because all of them were there. Staring at her.

Amber started to giggle. Beth stared at her, brows raised.

“Oh, Aunt Beth, I’m sorry, but it is funny.”

“Yeah, a real hoot,” Ben muttered.

“Hey, let’s just get the tent back up, huh?” Keith suggested.

Kim stared at him, obviously fascinated. “Oh, sure, thanks.”

“I can manage—” Beth began.

“Take the help when it’s offered, honey. Then maybe we can all get some sleep.” For once Amanda spoke without malice. There was even a teasing tone to her words.

Ben smiled. “Keith, if you’ll give me a hand, we’ll have this back up in two minutes.” He cleared his throat. “Beth, you’re in the way.”

“Excuse me.”

“Me, too,” Amanda said, and yawned. “I’m going back to bed. Dad, want to walk me back? Hank? Gerald?”

“If you guys are all set, we’ll go catch a little more sleep, too,” Sandy said.

“We’re fine. Good night all,” Ben told them.

Once again they parted for the night. Or what was left of it. Glancing at her watch, Beth saw that it was around four in the morning.

The girls’ tent was quickly repositioned, and their group, too, was ready to try for a few more hours of sleep.

Ben thanked Keith, as did the girls. “Hey, Aunt Beth. You could bring your sleeping bag in here, and then you wouldn’t have to worry about us,” Amber said.

“I’ll give you guys your privacy,” Beth told her, smiling.

Keith was staring at her, his gaze intent, as if he was trying to read something in her expression.

Then he smiled easily, without suspicion. “You all right?”

“Yes, fine.”

“I’m sorry if I scared you with my story.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not afraid of ghosts.” She couldn’t help the feeling that her eyes were narrowing. And she wondered if he realized she was telling him that she was scared, but not of any story—of him.

“Well, then, good night.”

With a wave, he started off for his own tent.

“Girls, go to bed,” Ben said firmly.

“Good night,” Amber said.

“Good night,” Kim echoed.

They went into their tent again. Beth winced as she heard them giggling.

“Beth, what the hell was going on?” Ben demanded.

She sighed. “I heard a noise. I was worried about the girls.”

He let out a sigh. “What’s the matter with you? You never used to be paranoid.”

“I’m not paranoid.”

“Listen, Beth, we’re surrounded by people here, half of the people we know. Nothing is going to happen.”

“You scared me,” she protested. “Creeping up behind me like that. You might have made yourself known.”

“I didn’t know who you were,” he told her.

“Aha!” Beth declared. “You were worried. Admit it.”

He sighed. “Beth, nothing’s going to happen,” he responded. “Trust me, huh?”

“I do trust you,” she told him.

“Then act like it.”

“Okay.”

“Can we go to sleep now?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Good night.”

“Good night.”

Beth realized that he was waiting for her to be safely tucked back into bed. She smiled and nodded ruefully, then crawled back into her own tent and into her sleeping bag, where she lay staring at the fabric above her in the deep darkness of the night.

She rolled over. It was better in that direction—the girls were still sleeping with the little lantern flashlight on.

She tried to close her eyes and sleep.

She had heard something.

Or had she? Maybe it had been only the natural rustling of the wind in the leaves. Had she simply made up something in her mind, and become truly paranoid?

Or, on the other hand, was she just being sensible?

Trust me….

She did trust her brother. He would gladly die for his daughter, she knew, and would probably do the same for her, and for Kim.

She just hoped to hell he was never called upon to do so.

She tossed again, yearning to go to sleep.

It was a long time coming.

AMANDA MASON WAS DEFINITELY a flirt. She made a point of crashing into one of the guys every time she hit the ball.

Usually himself, Keith decided wryly. He wasn’t letting it get to his ego, since she also liked to tease Lee—she’d seen the boat, and they’d all said it was his. She didn’t much mind brushing against Brad, either, even though he was here with his girlfriend. But so far, no one had taken their makeshift volleyball game too seriously. So far, everyone was laughing.

He, Amanda, Brad, Lee and Kim were one team. Sandy, Amber, Gerald, Matt and Ben made up the other. Roger Mason sat on the sidelines, being the ref.

So far today, they hadn’t even seen Ms. Beth Anderson.

“Outside!” Matt yelled in protest of Keith’s serve.

“It was not outside—you just missed it,” he returned.

“Where’s our referee?” Matt demanded.

“Sleeping, despite the noise,” Amanda said, chuckling affectionately as she pointed to her father.

It was true. Roger had leaned back in the hammock and gone straight to sleep.

“It was definitely outside,” came a voice.

Keith spun around. She was up at last, yawning despite her late appearance. She held a cup of coffee. Sunglasses covered her unique marble-toned eyes, and she was in a bathing-suit top and chopped-off Levi’s pedal pushers.

His serve hadn’t been outside, and if she had been watching, she had seen that. He wondered why she had decided that they were enemies from the first moment she had seen him.

Other than the fact that she’d been trying desperately to hide her discovery from him.

He forced a smile. “Hey, Matt, the lady says you’re right.”

“Beth Anderson, you’re blind!” Amanda protested irritably.

“It’s just a game, isn’t it?” Beth asked politely.

“I’m going to have to speak to the commodore and make sure you don’t ref any games at the club,” Amanda said, a teasing note in her voice that was meant to hide her still-obvious dislike.

Beth managed an icy smile and an easy laugh. “You do that, Amanda,” she said.

“Aunt Beth, come play,” Amber urged.

“I think I like Roger’s idea best,” she said.

“Sure—wake the rest of us up in the middle of the night and then sleep all day,” Matt teased. “I don’t think so.”

“No, of course not, come play,” Hank urged. “And you can ref my game any old day,” he teased.

“Come on, Beth, play,” Ben urged.

“I’d make the teams uneven,” she protested.

Roger, who had appeared to be so peacefully sleeping, rose. “I’ll join in and make it even,” he offered.

He walked past Beth, smiling. “Fifty-eight, and I guarantee I can take on you kids.”

It was interesting, watching the group dynamics, Keith thought. Everyone seemed to get along fine except for Amanda and Beth.

Was Beth jealous?

Or was it vice versa? Amanda was petite, ultrafeminine. Beth seemed…

Elegant, he found himself thinking. A strange adjective, since she was in beachwear, as casual as any of them.

The teams readjusted. Beth took the serve.

It was wicked.

From the rear corner, he barely returned it. Ben caught the ball, and Roger, bless him, attempted a slam. Amazingly, Beth caught it low, setting it up for her brother, who went in for the kill.

“Point,” Beth said calmly, reclaiming the ball.

The game was neck and neck from then on. Sandy was the weakest link, but she made up for it with her good humor and refusal to give up.

Beth was a superb player, in excellent physical condition. She wasn’t just shapely, she was sleek. Perfectly toned. She played not so much to win as simply to play hard. There was a vibrance about her, a love of life, of activity, a passion that seemed to come through in everything she did and said, in the way her eyes seemed to burn like a crystal fire when they met his across the net. She clearly loved a challenge.

He had the feeling she would always meet one headon.

At last Beth’s team took the final point, and they all collapsed, laughing.

“What’s up next?” Hank asked, lying flat on the sand in exhaustion.

Lee was up and staring at Keith. “Fishing?” he suggested.

“Yeah, fishing,” Keith replied.

They were fishing, all right.

“Not me, boys. I’m for lazing in the sun now,” Amanda said, rolling sinuously to her feet.

Ben nodded toward Lee’s yacht. “You asking us out on that?”

“Would you like to see her?” Lee offered.

Keith looked at Lee and knew just what he was thinking. Keep the current denizens of the island with them, occupied. Keep an eye on them. Know what they’re up to at all times.

Keep them fishing, not diving.

He stayed silent. In the end, there wasn’t anything they could do about people diving these waters. Still, if discoveries here had been easy…well, they wouldn’t be here now.

“You bet,” Ben said enthusiastically. “Looks as if she’s got every new electronic device known to man.”

“I like my toys,” Lee said with a shrug.

“I’m with you,” Ben said.

“Hell, I’d like to see her, too,” Hank said, grinning.

“Me, too,” Gerald agreed.

“Little boys, little toys, big boys, big toys,” Amanda teased.

“Me, I’d like to see the hammock again,” Roger said.

“I think Sandy and I are going to take a walk, explore…” Brad said. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Beth?” Lee inquired. “Girls?”

“I’d love to see the boat,” Amber said.

“Yacht,” Beth murmured beneath her breath.

“But actually,” Amber admitted a little sheepishly, “I hate fishing.”

“That’s cool,” Lee told her.

“Beth?”

“I’ll stay with the girls,” she said. “But I do appreciate the offer.”

“You don’t care if I go?” Ben asked his sister.

“Not at all!”

But she did. She cared like hell.

“Maybe I will join you men,” Amanda said with something like a purr. “The sun is actually much better on the water. And I can always escape below if all the testosterone proves to be a bit too much. I’ll just get my things.” She started to walk away, then turned back. “I am not, however, cleaning any fish.”

Keith watched her sashay toward her tent.

When he turned to study Beth again, she was studying him. The way she was looking at him caused a little pang to creep into his heart.

She was so suspicious of him.

Well, she had every right to be.

But this was a game he played often. And he knew how to play it.

And he knew damn well that he couldn’t let her get in his way.

Her eyes swept over him. Cool. Still assessing him.

Then she turned.

He had been dismissed.

BETH WAS DEFINITELY ANGRY with Ben, although she wasn’t sure he knew it. And she wasn’t about to lash out at him in public—certainly not with the public that was surrounding them.

He was so big about protecting his family, but show the guy a new yacht with all kinds of cool toys, and he was gone in a flash.

To be fair, he thought she was being paranoid and there was nothing to protect his family from. Maybe she couldn’t blame him. There had been nothing in the inland clearing, and last night she had awakened the entire island by screaming because she had run into him.

At this point she wasn’t even sure herself just what she had seen. Maybe it had been a conch shell, and what she had imagined, in a stomach-churning moment, to be human tissue only sea grass and debris.

It was so easy to question oneself, especially in the bright light of day. Except that the afternoon was waning.

Sitting on the beach with the girls, she looked out to sea. The dinghies were long gone, bearing the fishermen—and woman—out to sea. Roger was sleeping in the hammock. Brad and Sandy were laughing, and running in and out of the waves, being romantic, being a couple.

Good for them. It seemed odd that they were the only couple among the groups. That Amanda had come on a family outing seemed amazing to Beth, but then, she disliked the woman. Roger and Hank were always decent enough, and though she really didn’t know Gerald well, he seemed okay, as well. Was she jealous of Amanda? She probed her own psyche in a moment of introspection.

No. She really, truly simply disliked her. And she really, truly liked most people.

So that, she decided with a wry grin, really, truly made Amanda a bitch.

“Aunt Beth, what are you smirking at?”

“I am not smirking,” she protested, turning to her niece. “I’m just…smiling at the day.”

“It really is a cool weekend, huh?” Kim said, looking up from her star-studded magazine. “I was afraid of being bored, but…well, those guys are cool.”

“Those guys are way too old for you two,” Beth said sharply.

“Aunt Beth,” Amber groaned. “We know that. Can’t they just be nice guys?”

“We really don’t know them,” Beth reminded them.

“You sound like a schoolteacher.”

“Right, well, schoolteachers teach you things you need to know.”

Beth stood up, stretching, eyeing the water again. Lee’s yacht was almost out of sight. Brad and Sandy were still happily cavorting. Roger was sleeping.

She hesitated, looking at Amber and Kim, and then she headed for her tent. Returning, she dropped the little black pepper-spray container on the towel next to Amber. “If anyone comes near you, you know what to do.”

Amber looked at the pepper spray, then up at her. “Really, Aunt Beth. Are you expecting a giant grouper to leap out of the sea and accost us?”

“Don’t be a wiseass. Wiseacre,” she quickly amended. But not quickly enough. Both the girls were laughing at her.

“Amber, Kim, I’m serious.”

Amber forced herself to look somber. “We’re taking you very seriously.”

Beth really didn’t think there could be any trouble, not with the yacht out at sea. She offered a dry smile and started to walk away.

“Hey,” Amber called. “Where are you going?”

“For a walk.”

“You’re going back to look for the skull, right?” Amber pressed.

“No.” She stepped back toward them. “And don’t go talking about the fact that we might have seen a skull, do you understand?”

Amber let out a great sigh. “No, Aunt Beth. I mean, yes. We won’t mention it again, okay?”

“Good. And scream like hell if anything happens.”

“Like you did last night?” Amber teased.

“Behave or I’ll tell your dad that every young guy in the theater department isn’t gay!”

“Hey, have a great walk, Beth. We’ll be little angels, sitting here. Ready with the pepper spray,” Kim vowed seriously.

Shaking her head, Beth started off.

The island was such a strange paradise, she thought, heading toward the path through the pines and scrub brush just behind the area they had chosen to stake out their tents. The beach was pristine, the water clear and beautiful. Of course, just beyond there were dangerous, even deadly, reefs. But those who knew the area and could navigate those reefs knew how to reach a real Eden. But behind the beach, the island became a very different place, the dense foliage creating little nooks and crannies, shadows and an eerie green darkness.

She had always loved it.

Until now.

Today it seemed the island itself was working against her. She lost the trail and almost emerged at the other end of the beach. Retracing her steps, she swore softly.

A large mosquito decided to take a good chunk out of her arm, and she slapped it furiously, taking inordinate pleasure out of the fact that she managed to kill it.

At last she wound her way back to the clearing where she had stood the day before with the girls.

She looked around, trying to assess the area. Fallen palm fronds seemed to be everywhere.

Had there been that many yesterday? She tried to remember exactly where they had been standing.

And then where Keith Henson had emerged from the trees.

In the end, because there were so many palm fronds down on the ground, she decided to examine them one by one.

She tried to make sure she didn’t miss an area. She had gotten to her fourth frond when she heard footsteps.

Someone else was heading for the clearing.

She forced herself to pause and listen. After determining the direction from which the sounds were coming, she headed across the clearing. As soon as she reached the shelter of the trees, she spun around, afraid that whoever it was had already burst into the clearing and seen her.

Through the trees, she could see something glinting.

She narrowed her eyes and swallowed hard. Whoever was coming was carrying a knife. A big knife.

A machete.

Staring intently at that deadly glint, she backed farther into the trees.

Suddenly she felt an arm reach around her middle, pulling her deeper into the foliage.

A scream rose to her throat.

But a second hand clamped tightly over her mouth, and no sound escaped.

4

STRETCHED OUT ON THE SAND, Amber watched her aunt disappear into the foliage, then rolled again to face Kimberly with a sigh.

“We’ve got to do something!”

“About what?”

“Beth, of course.”

“You’re calling her ‘Beth’ now?” Kimberly queried with a brow arched high in a semblance of mature disapproval.

“No…it’s just, we’ve got to do something.”

“She’s so cute,” Kim agreed.

“And so is he,” Amber said.

“Which one?” Kim asked, frowning.

“The cute one.”

“Even your dad is cute,” Kim said.

Amber laughed, shuddering. “Ugh. Dads are not cute.”

Kim shrugged. “I’m sure he is to lots of people.”

“I know, but…ugh. No, I’m talking about him. And I know you know which one I’m talking about.”

“Keith Henson,” Kim agreed sagely.

“We need to get the two of them fixed up.”

“Amber, they’re both here. If they want to get fixed up, they’ll do it.” Kim giggled. “I mean, they’re older than we are. They’ve got to have some smarts.”

“Do you think he has a wife somewhere? Or a girlfriend?” Amber asked worriedly.

“I don’t think so.”

“He better have, like, a real job. I don’t want my aunt working her whole life to support some beach bum.”

“Amber, we’re not getting them married off or anything.”

“But we should get them together,” Amber protested. “Seriously, she’s so pretty, but she never goes out. She needs a date.”

Kim blushed. “You mean she’s not getting any?” she asked with a giggle.

“Kim!” Amber nudged her hard.

“Well?”

“We need to set her up. But first we have to check him out.”

“How are we supposed to do that?”

“I’m not sure yet. We’ll have to see when we get home. Dad has lots of cop friends. We can talk to one of them.”

“Amber, we may never see these guys again once we go home.”

Amber sat up, grinning, and did an amazing Alfred Hitchcock impersonation. “Have you ever had a premonition?”

Kim laughed. “All right. We’ll do a real investigation when we get home. Meanwhile, I’ll find out a few things about him.”

“And how will you do that?” Amber demanded.

Kim smiled smugly. “Silly. I’ll just ask him.”

THE YACHT WAS STATE OF THE ART. Ben loved it the minute he stepped aboard.

“Wow,” he said simply to Lee.

He worked hard and earned decent money as an attorney, and he’d been proud of his own boat, but in comparison, Time Off was small.

And simple.

What the hell does this guy do for a living? he wondered, though he was too polite to ask. None of the guys seemed like dope dealers, and he’d learned that in Miami, lots of people were simply independently wealthy.

Hank Mason wasn’t quite so hesitant.

“How the hell do you afford a puppy like this?” he demanded.

“Family money, I’m afraid.” Lee’s pride was justified when he grinned and said, “She’s something, huh? She’s a Hatteras, top of the line, and she’s been customized, since most of these ladies aren’t set up for real fishing.”

Customized to a T, Ben thought. Topside, there was the kind of rigging that made deep-water sport fishing fun. The flybridge offered every convenience from a global explorer to sonar and radar equipment, along with a stereo system and the more mundane racks for drinks and snacks. The upper deck offered complete comfort, and the decking was exquisite, with teak trimming. There was even a small refrigerator. The stern afforded racks for at least twelve diving tanks, and a lift-top seat bore a small sign that read Diving Equipment.

“Come into the cabin. You’ll like her even more,” Lee told Ben.

“I like her already,” Amanda said. She smiled up at Ben and linked an arm through his. “Now this, I must say, is a boat.”

Ben had known Amanda for several years, though never well. She was definitely beautiful, capable of stirring his senses, but also making him uncomfortable. He’d learned a long time ago that when someone you loved died, you lost a part of yourself, but you were still among the living. And being alive, he definitely had sexual urges. Amanda gave a man the impression that she could fulfill those urges beyond his wildest dreams. It would be a lie to say she didn’t have an effect on him. The problem was, she gave the same impression to every man. He would never trust a woman like her if he so much as blinked. For some guys, it would be okay. They were players. It was curious, though, that she seemed to be hanging on to him. He knew he was decent looking, fit and made a good living.

But the island, as Amanda had said herself, was chockfull of testosterone. Lee, Matt and Keith were the kind of men women always seemed to go for—well-muscled, tall, with the slightly rough good looks and hard-adventure attitude that seemed to draw women like moths.

So why the hell was Amanda clinging to him?

He wasn’t a player. His life focused—maybe too much, as Beth was always warning him—on his daughter. And he had a great career. So unless he found himself falling head over heels in love again, he kept his social life discreet. It actually did exist, which might surprise his sister.

But then, a lot about him might surprise his sister.

“Cool, huh?” Amanda murmured, snuggling a little closer. She was wearing sexy perfume, and she knew how to press her anatomy against a guy.

He smiled and shrugged, looking down at her. “It’s one hell of a boat,” he agreed.

“Come below,” Lee urged, and the rest followed.

Only Lee and Matt were hosting their excursion. Keith had chosen not to come, and despite his impatience with Beth, Ben had to admit that the guy staying back had caused him a bit of concern. But Brad and Sandy were on the island, as well, as was Roger. Though he vaguely felt he should be concerned about Keith, he just couldn’t believe the man had any real evil intentions. He didn’t like to believe in instinct—he’d worked in the D.A.’s office long enough to learn that it was unreliable at best—but no matter what logic told him, he didn’t fear for his daughter, her friend or his sister when they were with the guy.

“Oh, wow!” Amanda exclaimed, hugging his arm. “This is beautiful!”

The cabin utilized its limited space with sleek elegance. A turn to the left of the steps led straight to an aft cabin, while the steps themselves led into a galley that seemed to offer more appliances than his home kitchen. The galley spilled into a main salon with a desk that held a computer, a radio and a number of electronics he couldn’t even name. A table looked as if it could hold up to eight diners, and a hallway led to a forward cabin and the head. Everything was leather, teak or chrome.

“Can I get anyone anything?” Lee asked.

“Beer,” Ben said.

Lee moved into the galley, grinning. “Amanda?”

“You have any white wine back there?”

“Sure. Hank…Gerald?”

The other two men settled on beers. After the drinks were served—even Amanda’s wine was in a small bottle—Lee led the way through to the aft cabin. The master stateroom held a large, comfortable bed. “It’s a trundle,” Lee explained proudly. “When you need more space, you just pull it out. Of course, you lose your floor space that way. But it allows for a lot of sleeping space. There are a couple of ‘closet bunks’ in the hallway, as well. There’s a private head here in the master stateroom, too, with a shower. But it’s the fishing we’re out for. Let’s head back up.”

Ben thought Matt might have gone topside already, to fire up the motor. But he hadn’t.

He had remained in the cabin by the computer desk, radio, and Ben had the oddest feeling that the guy was guarding them.

Amanda was still glued to his arm, but Ben had a feeling she, too, was aware that although the saying here seemed to be Make yourself at home, there were certain areas of home that were off-limits.

Why?

His instincts were kicking in again. There was something askew with this picture. But what? For a sick moment he wondered if these guys were involved in a modern piracy ring, if they hadn’t acquired the yacht illegally. Then again, if a vessel like this had gone missing, he would have heard about it. The members of the club had associates all over the world as well, and the theft of a craft like the Sea Serpent wouldn’t have gone unnoted.

So much for his instincts. On the one hand, he was convinced that Keith, back onshore, would never cause the least danger to the people Ben loved. And on the other hand…

“C’mon,” Lee urged. “Come see the fish finder on this beauty. We’ll be hauling in our dinner at turbo speed.”

Amanda disentangled herself from Ben, yawning. “You know, I was thinking maybe I’d take a little snooze.” She laughed softly, looking at Ben. “We were all awakened in the middle of the night,” she reminded them.

“No way,” Lee protested. “We’re striking out to sea, all for one and one for all. Everyone topside!”

Amanda pouted prettily. She would have spoken again, Ben was certain, except that Lee was striding toward them, ready to herd them all up, as if he were a friendly sheepdog keeping the masses together.

He wondered if he was just creating a sense of something that wasn’t there, more spooked by Beth’s unease than he’d realized.

She was worse than he was, worrying about Amber, worrying about him, spending the majority of her time at work. For most young women, the club would be a smorgasbord of rugged, tanned, athletic professional men. But not for Beth, who didn’t date where she worked. It was as if she was oblivious.

Tall, tanned, perfectly fit in a feminine way—stacked—with her dark hair and exotic eyes, she was probably the greatest catch on the island. But even here, she was proving adept at keeping her distance.

“You’re mean,” Amanda teased Lee, and clasping his arm, a pretty moue on her face. “I’m just so sleepy.”

“I’ll set you up on deck. You’ll love it,” Lee assured her.

At that moment Ben knew for a fact that his suspicions were correct.

No one, for any reason, was going to be left in the cabin alone.

So just what were they up to?

“SHH!”

Beth found the sound absurdly reassuring. Though she couldn’t see the man whose hand was on her mouth, she knew it was Keith Henson. Was it the feel of him? A certain chemistry? It didn’t matter. She just knew.

She felt his other hand spanning the bare flesh of her midriff. He was tense but no longer forceful, and the hand on her mouth eased, then moved away. She could feel the thud of both his heart and her own.

As they stood there, silent, strangely bonded, Brad and Sandy appeared in the clearing.

And Brad was the one wielding the machete.

It was a wicked-looking weapon, and yet…boaters planning to put ashore on an island might readily have one. In fact, he was using it for the exact purpose one might expect in such a circumstance—chopping away at the heavy growth.

“I think it was here,” Sandy said wearily.

“Here is an awfully damn big space,” Brad said irritably.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s a small island.”

“Way too small, at the moment. We should have realized. It’s a weekend.”

“Should we just quit moaning and start looking?”

Beth adjusted her footing ever so slightly. Behind her, Keith did likewise. He seemed to have no intention of letting her go, accosting the pair or letting his own presence be known. She could feel the coiled tension in him. He was listening intently.

Were they looking for a skull?

And if Keith Henson didn’t know about the skull, why would he be so worried about a young couple searching a clearing on the island?

She turned slightly, looking up at him as Brad hacked away at overhanging fronds and branches. He shook his head, warning her that she shouldn’t move, shouldn’t give herself away.

A fly buzzed near her nose. She began to wonder just how long she could stand so perfectly still. Yet, her own heart continued to race, and her suspicions were hiked to the limit, every fiber of her being attuned to danger.

“I hear something,” Sandy announced suddenly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Brad told her.

“No, no, I hear something. From the beach.”

“They’re fishing.”

“They’re not all fishing.”

“So what? We’re just walking around the island.”

“I don’t like this, Brad. Let’s go back.”

“Are you scared?”

“You bet.” She looked at him pleadingly. “Come on, they all have jobs. They’ll have to get back to work in a couple of days. The island will be all ours again. Please, let’s just get out of here for now.”

Brad let out a long sigh. Then he slipped his arms around her, letting the machete dangle.

“Ooh, nice sword,” Sandy teased.

“You bet, baby.”

He started to kiss her. Then, with his free hand, to fondle her.

Beth held her breath, feeling acutely uncomfortable. She could still feel the hand on her own midriff, and watching these two get more and more intimate…

I thought you were scared, Sandy! she longed to shout.

Then things got worse.

“Want to really fool around?” Brad whispered.

“Maybe.”

“Then you won’t be scared? Worried about getting caught?”

“There’s something kind of exciting about it,” Sandy whispered in return. Her hand slid from his chest.

Lower. Lower.

Beth could feel her cheeks flaming to a bright pink.

“Then again…I should be punishing you,” Sandy said huskily. “You were all over the blonde today.”

“The blonde was all over me today,” Brad protested.

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

“Hey…she was determined to let me know she was full-bodied.”

“You and every other guy there.”

“Um, true, but you shouldn’t let her worry you.”

“No,” Sandy agreed. “It’s the other one I’m worried about. You were looking at her.”

“I was looking at her?”

“Yeah, you know. Looking.”

“Well, she is really sexy. Legs that go on forever. Imagine what she could do with those legs.”

Beth could feel the flames deepen in her cheeks, and she imagined that Keith had to be aware of it, too. She couldn’t stand much more of this. Self-preservation had kept her silent so far. Embarrassment might well send her flying from cover.

“Hey,” Sandy protested.

“Am I turning you on yet?” Brad demanded.

“Seriously…I keep hearing something.”

“What happened to the idea of being caught in the act of being so hot and sexy?”

“Those girls are underage.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, the last thing we need now is to be arrested for contributing to the delinquency of a minor,” Sandy said.

“Good point,” Brad agreed seriously. But then he quickly returned to his lighter tone. “Hey…the tent is exotic and hot, you know.”

“So let’s get back to the beach—please! In a couple of days, they’ll all leave. It will be our island again, Brad. Then we can take care of things.”

At last the two of them left, disappearing across the clearing, taking the same trail Beth had used.

Behind her, Keith remained still for what seemed like an aeon. It was all she could do to keep from wrenching away. And yet he was right—they needed to let Sandy and Brad put some distance between them.

Finally, however, she could stand it no longer. He was still touching her, his hand still on her midriff, her body backed flush against his.

She stepped away and turned, staring at him, tense and wary.

“What was that all about?” she demanded.

His eyes were as dark as ebony. He wasn’t wearing his sunglasses, but his eyes still gave no clue of what thoughts lurked in his mind.

“Shh,” he warned her.

“They’re gone,” she reminded him.

“The trees may well have ears,” he said quietly, studying her.

She lowered her voice. “What were they looking for?” she demanded.

“I don’t know.”

“Why didn’t you accost them?”

“Do you really think it’s a great idea to accost a man carrying a machete?” he cross-queried.

“But…” She shook her head. “Now we’ll never know what they were doing.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

She backed away another step, frowning. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking.”

“Looking for what?” she demanded sharply.

He leaned back against a tree, crossing his arms over his chest. “Whatever you were trying to hide when we met.”

Startled, she hesitated, then came back at him far too late. “Don’t be ridiculous. I wasn’t hiding anything.”

“Then I wasn’t really looking for anything, was I?”

She let out a sigh of irritation and started to turn away. Then she swung back and collided with him once again. Embarrassed, she braced her hands against his chest and regained her footing quickly.

“Why aren’t you out fishing?” she demanded. “I thought you went out on the boat.”

“Obviously I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“There was a full crew.”

“But you snuck around to come back here,” she accused him.

“I didn’t sneak anywhere.”

“Then why didn’t I see you before?”

“Probably because you weren’t paying any attention. There was no secret about me staying behind. I didn’t jump off the boat when no one was looking and swim back.”

She stared at him, shaking her head. “There’s something wrong with you.”

That brought a wry smile to his lips. “I’m not exactly sure how you mean that, but…You should certainly hope not. You’re alone with me on an island, and all help is far away.”

She took a step back again.

He sighed, reaching for her. She jumped; he let his arm fall, shaking his head.

“I’m going to give you some advice, whether you want it or not. Stay away from this area of the island. Obviously it’s of interest to someone, and we don’t know why. Keep your mouth shut about seeing Sandy and Brad looking around here. In fact, if you have any suspicions about anyone, pretend that you don’t.”

She narrowed her eyes, staring at him hard. “Someone might have been killed here.”

“And you wouldn’t want to join them.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Good God, no. It’s a warning.”

“Right. And you should be trusted?”

“Actually, yes.”

She studied him long and hard. He was a man in the prime of his life, muscled and hard. She was suddenly certain that, if he had chosen, he could have wrenched the machete away from Brad without breaking a sweat.

To her discomfort, she also remembered the strength with which he had held her.

She spun around, striding for the trail.

He caught her arm, swinging her back. She didn’t open her mouth to protest, only narrowed her eyes at him in serious warning, arching her brows slowly as she gazed from his eyes to the place where his hand rested on her arm.

“I was serious. Keep your mouth shut.”

“You know something, so you’d better be planning on talking to the police,” she warned him.

“If I knew something, I wouldn’t need to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations.”

“I think we should call the police.”

“And tell them what?” he demanded.

She faltered. “That…that…”

“That there might have been a skull on the island? That a young couple was scrounging around, looking for something? So far, they haven’t done a thing that’s illegal. And so far, you haven’t got anything at all to tell the police. Guess what? You need to get your nose out of it. You need to keep your mouth shut and pretend that you haven’t seen a single thing on this island.”

“You are threatening me.”

“I’m not the threat!” he protested angrily. “But just maybe there is a threat out there.”

“Then we need to stop them. Now.”

“There’s this little thing called the law. You think you can just tie up Sandy and Brad and call the Coast Guard, and they’ll arrest them for acting in what you’ve decided is a suspicious manner?”

She felt herself flush. He was still holding her. She swallowed, strangely far more afraid now than she had been at any time before. Odd, it felt far too good, especially under the circumstances. She wanted to close her eyes. Lean against him. Let the moment go on. She loathed the concept of basic instinct, but she realized that she was feeling one right then. There was something so right about feeling his touch. She told herself it was just because she hadn’t so much as dated in a very long time, but inside she knew it was because she had simply never felt anything so right.

He released her suddenly. “All right, you don’t trust me. Stick with your brother. Tight. And keep your mouth shut.”

He wasn’t touching her anymore. That should mean that sanity would return. Instead she felt startled, like a doe caught in the headlights.

She stiffened, determined to follow a course based on sense and reason.

He started to walk past her, but she wasn’t done with him.

She found herself running to catch up with him, then caught his arm, swinging him back to face her.

“What does all this have to do with you?” she demanded.

“Nothing. I came to this island to camp, just the same as you,” he told her.

“Then why were you searching the clearing?”

“I told you. It seemed obvious you had hidden something.” He had been impatient, almost ready to pull away. But suddenly he became the one determined to carry on the conversation. He moved toward her. There was a tree behind her, and she backed up against it. He set a palm on the trunk to trap her, leaning close.

“What were you hiding?” he demanded.

“Nothing.”

“A skull?” he queried.

“Of course not!”

He pushed away from the tree and once again started back toward the beach. She followed him, irritated and uneasy.

And oddly determined to keep up with him.

To remain close.

They reached the trail. For a moment Beth was afraid they would run straight into Sandy and Brad, but the couple was nowhere to be seen.

Amber and Kimberly were lying on the beach, exactly where they had been when she had left them. Roger, too, seemed not to have stirred from the hammock.

“Hey, girls!” Keith called out.

Amber rolled over and looked back, seeing Keith. “Hi,” she called, smiling.

“Hey, guys,” Kimberly said.

The girls looked at him, then Beth, then one another. They smiled.

No, she thought. They smirked.

“Did you find any good coconuts?” Amber asked him.

It was Beth’s turn to look from him to the girls and back again. Obviously the girls had known that he hadn’t gone on the boat. Where the hell had she been?

Not paying attention. A mistake she didn’t intend to repeat.

“Hey…that looks like a decent coconut right over there.” He pointed in the direction of the hammock where Roger lay sleeping.

“I’ll get it,” Amber volunteered.

Beth bit her lip, not allowing herself to protest. The girls liked Keith. Trying to draw them away and tell them to be wary would only send them flying to his defense.

Kim jumped up to run after Amber.

Beth’s pepper spray lay forgotten on Amber’s beach towel.

Staring at Keith, she went and picked it up. He smiled, shaking his head.

“What’s that smile for?” she demanded, moving closer to him so the girls wouldn’t hear her.

“Pepper spray…machete. Hmm.”

“Don’t kid yourself, this stuff can blind a man.”

“I wouldn’t dream of mocking your strength, Ms. Anderson,” he told her.

Then he turned and went to accept the coconut Amber had picked up. Beth watched as he slammed it against a tree.

The coconut broke at his bidding. He didn’t look back at her, just offered the pieces to the girls. Only then did he turn.

“Sorry—is it all right if they have fresh coconut?”

Amber giggled. “Silly. Aunt Beth doesn’t have anything against coconuts.”

Beth forced a smile.

She was relieved to see the first of the dinghies sliding smoothly onto the shore, just a hundred feet down on the beach.

The others were back.

“Mahimahi tonight!” Ben shouted. He jumped from the dinghy and dragged it farther up the shore, then reached back to give a hand to Amanda. She accepted it with her usual innate sensuality, managing to bring her whole body against Ben in her smooth effort to step to the sand.

“My recipe tonight,” Ben called to Beth.

He sounded so pleased. Their fishing expedition had clearly been a great success.

Once again, she forced a smile, then waved and slipped into her tent.

She hoped her brother was having a good time.

For herself, it felt as if she had taken the night train to hell.

And, she realized, it could only get worse. She was suddenly longing for something she shouldn’t have.

Perhaps couldn’t have…

But the really scary thought was that he was feeling just the same.

5

BETH SAT ON THE BENT TRUNK of the palm tree, eating Doritos and watching.

It might have been a family reunion.

The light was gone, but three separate fires blazed, and the portable barbecue was working away, as well. The fires, she decided, were mainly for show, for warmth and light, though the moon was full, and the sky was clear, studded with stars. The fires were still nice, she thought.

Ben was talking to Keith and Matt by the barbecue, explaining the secret to his perfect mahimahi, she suspected. A coffeepot was set over one of the fires. Brad was the coffee brewer. Hank, Gerald and Matt were hanging out with him, probably talking about their day on the water.

As she watched, Amanda joined the group, giggling, laughing and, judging by her gestures, telling a story about the way someone had caught a fish. The men were laughing, obviously entertained, and equally obviously enthralled.

Beth was startled when Sandy sat down at her side.

She had a beer in her hand, and she was watching the group at the fire, as well.

“She’s got a way with her, huh?” Sandy said a little glumly.

“She’s very pretty,” Beth said judiciously.

Sandy turned to her, a half smile in place, a wry expression in her eyes. “You’re much better looking. Actually, so am I. She just really knows how to turn it on and use everything she has.”

“Two of those guys are her cousins,” Beth reminded her. Sandy seemed so normal at the moment, but Beth couldn’t forget what she had seen and heard in the clearing.

“And two aren’t,” Sandy said flatly. She shrugged. “I guess some women are just like that. They can’t keep their hands off anything in pants.”

“She comes from a…a world of privilege,” Beth murmured, wondering why she was even attempting to excuse Amanda Mason, who tended to make her skin crawl. Still, she’d made it a point to make sure she never talked badly about any member of the club. She offered Sandy the bag of Doritos.

The other woman sniffed. “Think those boobs are real?”

“Um…I’ve never asked.”

“Enhanced,” Sandy assured her.

“Well, lots of people…enhance.”

Sandy sighed. “True. It’s just that…I mean, she uses the damn things like business cards. And men are so easy.”

Beth laughed. “I guess sometimes they are.”

“She can’t have many friends.”

“I don’t really know,” Beth murmured. She felt like she was ragging on the most popular girl in high school, and it felt more and more uncomfortable. She decided to change the topic. “So how long have you and Brad been together?”

“Three years,” Sandy said. “A long time, huh?” She paused. “I’m still madly in love with him. More or less.”

Beth wasn’t certain how “madly in love” and “more or less” could actually coincide, and again she felt she’d gone back to high school.

“Well, it’s great that you’re together, then,” she said.

Sandy chomped a Dorito. Amanda had her hand on Brad’s arm. Sandy shook her head unhappily and looked at Beth. “You don’t think it’s too long?”

“Too long for what?”

“Shouldn’t we be getting married?”

“Oh. Um. Well, I don’t know. I guess it’s good to really know a person first. I’d much rather be with a person and know that he’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with than marry in a hurry and have it all fall apart. The divorce rate is so high today.”

“Is your brother divorced?”

“No. His wife passed away.”

“That’s terrible.”

“Yes.”

“So…you don’t think it’s a bad thing that I stay with Brad even though it’s been this long and we’re not married yet?”

Beth hesitated. She hadn’t begun to imagine that Sandy would come to her for advice on her relationship, certainly not after what she had seen and heard in the clearing earlier.

“I’m not qualified to give advice,” she said. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with staying with someone, no matter how long, if that’s what you feel is right.”

Sandy stared at the group by the fire, eyes level on Amanda. “Do you think he’d cheat on me?”

Beth was beginning to feel acutely uncomfortable. “Sandy, I just met both of you. I have no idea.”

Sandy didn’t seem to hear her. “She’s moving on. Who is she after, do you think? Your brother? Or Keith?”

Amanda had moved on. Now she stood between Ben and Keith at the barbecue. She was still laughing, charming, flirtatious.

And once again, she seemed to have enthralled her conquests.

“My brother is in his midthirties,” Beth said. “He has to take care of himself, make his own decisions.”

Sandy sighed. “Yeah, I guess Keith is all grown up, too. Hey, if Amanda is going to be all over Brad, maybe I should be making a few moves of my own.” She stared steadily at Beth again, then shook her head. “You’re so moral.”

Beth laughed. “How do you know that? We’ve only just met.”

Sandy shook her head. “There are things you just know. Things you see. No matter how long you’ve known someone.” She laughed softly. “Like chemistry. Don’t worry. If I make a play for someone, it won’t be Keith.”

“What?”

“There’s chemistry going between you two, and if you say it isn’t, well, then you’re a liar.”

“I’m too moral to be a liar, aren’t I?” Beth queried lightly.

Sandy still seemed caustically amused. “Well, he feels attracted to you. I see his eyes when you just walk by. And to be truthful, that’s why I’d never make a play for him. Why bother? He’s preoccupied. Actually, I don’t play games. And I don’t think Brad would, either. She just really pisses me off.”

“It seems as if you and Brad do have something…special,” Beth said, feeling a little lame but also really uncomfortable. When she looked at the woman, she wanted to shout, What the hell were you looking for today? A skull?

Both women turned to stare at Brad then. Apparently his coffee was perked, and he had gone to the trouble of making Irish coffee; he had a bottle of Jameson’s out, as well.

“Hey, I’d actually like one of those,” Beth said, ready to get up and end what was becoming too intimate a conversation with someone she didn’t know—and didn’t trust. She rose. “Come on, we’ll both head over there, and it won’t look like you’re worried in the least.”

Sandy flashed her a quick glance, and she realized that the woman had been worried. But Brad hadn’t done any instigating, and Amanda was being just as flirtatious with every available guy there.

Beth headed over to the fire and told Brad, “That’s definitely a different drink for a night on an island. I’d love one.”

“Sure. Sandy?”

“Sounds good to me, too. I’d love one.”

Brad mixed up two mugs. “Club Med has nothing on us, huh?” he teased, sliding an arm around Sandy’s shoulders.

“No, we’re just a regular party,” Beth agreed.

“Food’s ready!” Ben called out. “Someone grab some plates, please.”

Roger was the first one to oblige, and he became the official hand-’em-outer. Everyone found seats, in the hammock, on blankets or towels on the sand, or in the few folding chairs they’d brought out. For the next several minutes, compliments to the chef rang out.

“Hey, how about me?” Lee teased. “I led the fishing expedition.”

“I know, and it was a hell of a good time,” Ben told him.

“Maybe we should have gone along,” Sandy told Brad.

“Yeah, maybe,” Brad said, grimacing.

“There’s always tomorrow,” Matt offered.

“Tomorrow. Sunday,” Sandy said, and shivered. “Just Monday and then back to the real world. Work on Monday.”

“What do you do?” Beth asked her.

“Do?”

“For a living,” Beth said.

“Oh, I’m a consultant.”

Maybe it was the fact that Sandy had brought up going back to work on Monday when Beth knew she didn’t plan on doing any such thing, but Beth didn’t believe her for a minute.

“Back to work for you, too, Beth, right?” Amanda asked sweetly.

“Thankfully, I love my job,” Beth replied pleasantly.

“I’m not always so fond of mine,” Ben admitted.

“Ben’s a lawyer,” Roger explained.

“What kind?” Keith asked.

Ben laughed, a slightly dry sound. “Criminal. I used to work for the D.A.’s office, but now I get the scumbags off. It’s a good living, but…well, I don’t know how long I want to do it.” He hesitated, glancing over at his daughter. “I’d like to get away from some of the ugliness. I’m thinking about making a real switch into entertainment law or something like that.”

Beth turned to Keith and asked pointedly, “What do you do for a living?”

She thought he hesitated for just a second before he said, “I’m a diver.”

“And you make a decent enough living?” Hank asked.

“Decent enough for what?” Amber piped in.

Hank laughed easily. “Well, enough to have friends like Lee with a boat like that.”

“Hey, the boat is his,” Keith said.

“Well, what do you do?” Amanda asked Lee.

“Nothing remarkable,” Lee said. “Family money.”

“I like that,” Amanda said, and everyone laughed. The sound, however, had an edge to it, Beth thought.

Apparently Amanda had decided that Lee offered the best opportunity to go on living in the style to which she’d become accustomed. During cleanup, she hung around him, flirting, giggling.

Later Ben sternly vetoed the idea of ghost stories, and the others agreed, staring at Beth. Someone suggested music, and a boom box appeared from somewhere.

As the music played and the conversation went on around her, Beth found herself thinking about the Monocos again. Was there some connection between them and the maybe-a-skull she’d found? Or was she getting carried away worrying? As Ben had said, they were adults, and they could travel the world without reporting to anyone, if they chose.

Whether she’d seen a skull or a conch shell, she was absolutely certain that people were behaving strangely.

The feeling of being in the middle of something she didn’t understand sat heavily over her. The rest of them were acting like the world was a great place and everyone just loved everyone. Well, except Ben. Her brother seemed to be brooding, for some reason.

And Keith.

He had managed to hang back and avoid conversation.

He was watching, she thought. Watching everyone.

The thought gave her chills. And yet…despite his strange behavior, she was still drawn to him. She should have been wary, but, ridiculously, she sensed in him a kind of strength, an…ethic. Was she crazy? Was it only because she couldn’t remember when she had met someone who so attracted her? But if he’d wanted to hurt her, he’d certainly had the opportunity, and he hadn’t. Instead, he’d protected her.

She decided that she wasn’t going to say anything more to Ben or anyone else about the skull or her sense of uneasiness. But when she got home, she was definitely going to start finding out more about the Monocos.

On the other hand, maybe the need to know that seemed to fill her every waking minute now would ebb once they returned to real life. She would see Amanda and Hank again, and Roger and Gerald. But there was no reason to believe she would ever cross paths again with Sandy and Brad, or the independently wealthy Lee, Matt—or Keith Henson.

The group split up late. Beth tried to act nonchalant as she made her way back to their site, but when she was curled up in her own tent, she realized that she still felt uneasy.

If he hadn’t had any idea what Brad and Sandy were up to, why had Keith been so determined not to reveal their own presence?

She felt a hot flush rise within her when she remembered the way they had stood, listening, for what had seemed like aeons.

She lay awake, just listening, for a long, long time.

Then, just when she was finally relaxing into sleep, she heard something. A rustling. The wind in the trees? She strained to hear.

Great weekend. She should have been suntanned and relaxed. Instead she was a nervous wreck, more tired than when they’d started out.

In the night, she imagined that she was hearing all kinds of things.

At last, with a sigh, she untangled herself from her sleeping bag and carefully stuck her head out through the opening of her tent.

There was nothing around. No one to see. The night was silent.

She crawled out of the tent to stretch, then froze.

She wasn’t alone.

Looking down the beach, she realized that what had appeared to be a shadow against a tree was a man.

The realization sent a flurry of fear snaking along her spine. She stood still, staring.

The shadow lifted a hand. Said, “Hey.”

“Hey,” she responded automatically.

It was Keith.

Barefoot, in her oversize T-shirt, she walked down the length of the beach to him. The night wasn’t especially dark. In fact, it was beautiful. The moon was out, along with dozens of stars. The breeze was gentle, and it wasn’t too humid.

“Enjoying the weather?” she asked.

“It is nice, isn’t it?” he asked. He sat down and patted the sand by his side. “Join me?”

She hesitated, then sat. “What are you doing?” she asked him.

“Enjoying the weather, just like you said.”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“I have strange sleeping habits.”

“I’ll bet you do,” she murmured.

He smiled, handsome face rueful. “Is there a hidden meaning behind that?” he asked.

She shook her head and looked away.

“You just don’t trust me.”

“No, I don’t.” She let out a sigh.

He laughed. “By the way, what happened to your brother’s friends?”

“Pardon?”

“The guys who were supposed to be joining you. You know, the great big lugs who can open beer bottles with their teeth.”

She stared at him with a deep frown, having no idea what he was talking about at first. Then she remembered what she’d said when they met.

“I guess they got…sidetracked. They’re not coming.”

“And they never were.”

“Okay, so I don’t trust you much now and I certainly didn’t trust you at all when we first met.”

He looked forward again and spoke softly. “Well, we’re not pirates, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I didn’t suggest you were pirates. Pirates belong in ghost stories.”

He shook his head, looking her way again. “No. Modern-day pirates are very real. Ask your brother. Sail in the wrong direction and you’re asking for trouble. Think about it—the sea is vast. You can be close to civilization, but on the water, far, far from help. Don’t ever think of pirates as being something from the past!”

She frowned, surprised that he had spoken with such passion.

“Pirates, because of the drug trade?” she asked him.

He shrugged. “Pirates because some men will always covet what other men have.” He watched her intently, then turned away again. “And pirates because sometimes what another man has is knowledge that’s worth its weight in gold.”

The way he spoke sent shivers down her spine. She was sitting close to him, not touching, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to stumble quickly to her feet and say good-night, or move closer into the aura of his warmth. He was definitely a compelling man, built like rock and steel, with his strange easy smile and chiseled features. And chemistry.

She knew she should be drawing back just because she wanted to move so close. She realized in shock that she was envisioning sex with the man.

Not a good thing when she didn’t trust him at all, much less what was happening here on the island.

He seemed to be warning her again.

“Go back to your life tomorrow. Forget anything you might have thought while you were here. And for God’s sake, don’t talk about it,” he said softly.

She shook her head. “You’re very scary, you know.”

“Am I?” He looked away again. “I don’t mean to be. It’s just a good thing not to get involved.”

“A good thing how? And involved with what, exactly?”

He let out a sound of impatience, flicking at a few grains of sand from his knee. “You’re trying to make a mountain out of a molehill,” he said, shrugging. “Just leave it alone. When you dig for one thing, you may find something else that you don’t expect—or want.”

The breeze seemed to grow chilly. She was silent for a moment. “Just what is it that you know, or at least suspect? Why were you so determined that Brad and Sandy shouldn’t see us today?”

He groaned. “There you go. I don’t know or suspect anything. Hey, I’m a diver, remember? I like the sea, the sand, the wind…going down deep where it’s peaceful and calm and the world doesn’t intrude. I like fishing, islands, Jimmy Buffett and the easy life. So I keep out of things that don’t concern me. And that’s what I’m strongly advising you do, too.”

She stared back at him, shaking her head. “You’re talking in circles, and the strangest thing is, no matter what you say, I don’t believe you.”

“Oh?” He arched a brow, features slightly tense, then easing as he offered her a rueful grin. “Is that a challenge? Or an accusation?”

“Neither. I’m just saying that I don’t trust you.”

“How amazing. I never would have realized—especially since we’ve just discussed that fact.”

“You’re sarcastic, to boot.”

“Sorry. If I bug you that much, you might remember that I claimed this tree first.”

She stiffened and started to rise.

He caught her arm. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll leave you to your tree,” she told him, teeth grating.

“I said I was sorry. It’s just that you came over here and started attacking—”

“I didn’t attack.”

“You accused me of…something. I just don’t know what you want from me.”

She hesitated, feeling his hand lingering on her arm. His eyes were so steady on her. So sincere.

Why couldn’t she have met him at one of her brother’s small get-togethers? At the yacht club, or on a local dive trip? Why couldn’t he have been an old school friend of someone, anyone, who could be trusted? His touch was the kind that made little jolts of electricity tease the bloodstream, and when she was close to him like this, all she wanted was to touch and be touched.

She gave herself a serious mental shake. He wasn’t one of her brother’s old school friends, and she had met him under very strange circumstances. And she seemed to be having trouble answering him, though he wasn’t pressing anything. He was just looking at her, and they were very close. Close enough so that she knew she liked the arch of his brows, the strength of his features, the way his jaw could seem as hard as a rock until his smile changed everything about him.

“Beth, seriously, I don’t know what you want—”

“The truth,” she murmured.

He released her and leaned back against the tree, looking up at the night sky.

“The truth?” he asked, sounding edgy again. “I don’t know anything about anything. My motto is simply to be very careful. That’s the truth. I just think you should be careful, too, that’s all.”

“Because Brad and Sandy were behaving suspiciously?”

“Because you think you found a skull—and you’re pretty much letting everyone know.”

It was her turn to be aggravated. “There you go—talking in circles again. I think I found a skull. If I didn’t find a skull, then what is there to be worried about?”

“Maybe nothing. Probably nothing.”

“Do you know you’re incredibly exasperating?” she demanded.

That rueful smile slipped easily into place again. “Do you know the line that should come after that one? Let’s see. ‘You’re incredibly beautiful. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone quite like you.’ But that wouldn’t sound much like the truth to you, either, would it? And it’s probably something you’ve heard a million times before.” The fact that he didn’t touch her then, or move closer to her in any way, made his words seem all the more compelling. She felt the urge to move closer, but she forced herself to maintain her distance. She felt as if there was at least a grain of honesty in his compliment, and she doubted he was a man who got turned down often.

“Thanks,” she murmured uneasily, and looked at the swaying palms against the night sky. She worked with the public herself, knew how to smile and play a part, how to manipulate—and when she was being manipulated.

She turned to him squarely, “Actually, it sounds like the kind of line you use when you’re trying to change the subject.”

“I’ve just offered all that I can on the subject that I’d be changing,” he told her.

Her eyes fell on Lee’s yacht. “Quite a boat,” she murmured.

“A seventy-five-foot motor yacht,” he agreed. “You should have come aboard. She’s one glorious lady.”

She turned to him. “You could show her to me in the morning.”

He seemed surprised by the suggestion. “I could, yes.” He watched her curiously for a moment, a slow smile creeping over his lips. “Ah. You’re going to check her out. Look for bodies or evidence of evildoing.”

Beth averted her eyes. “No such thing. She’s a beautiful boat. I work at a yacht club.”

“So you see lots of beautiful boats.”

“I love to be able to discuss them with the members.”

He laughed easily. “You can check her out. No problem.”

“Which means, of course, that if you were concealing something, it would be well hidden,” she informed him.

“Did you study criminology?” he demanded. “Or do you suffer from an overdose of cop shows on television? If you’ve been paying attention, one more time, Ms. Anderson, it’s smart to keep out of things that don’t concern you.”

“So I shouldn’t go on the boat?”

He groaned. “You’re more than welcome to see the boat. I told you—we’re not pirates.”

“Does that mean you’re not pirates but you are some other kind of criminal, or that some people are pirates, even though you and your friends aren’t?”

“If I say good-morning when I see you and the sun is up, will you be dissecting those words, as well?” he asked her.

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

He stood, reaching a hand down to her. “Well, I suggest we get some sleep and find out,” he said.

She hesitated before accepting his hand. As he helped her to her feet, she came up against him. The length of her body brushed against his. When she was up, she remained close, thinking—hoping?—he was going to touch her.

She thought she might lose all sense of reason and reach out and touch him, place her fingers on his face.

“No line,” he said softly. “You are…like a flame. I’d give my eyeteeth to be the moth that was consumed.”

She blinked. His voice was deep, sincere, and yet he was distant. He didn’t even try acting on his words. If anything, they were wistful.

“Don’t worry,” he assured her, and a dry smile twisted his lips. “I know how to pine from afar.” He hesitated. “You really don’t need to be afraid of me,” he assured her.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she lied.

“You’re not?”

“Only a little.”

“Actually, you should be. I’m dying to touch you,” he said.

The breeze whispered. The ghosts of the island, she thought. The cool air caressed her flesh. She was tempted to step forward and tell him that she was afraid, but willing to take her chances anyway.

Just to be touched.

To her absolute amazement, she heard herself say, “Maybe you should be afraid. Maybe I’m dying to touch you, too.”

His hand rose. His knuckles and the back of his hand just brushed over her cheek. His eyes met hers. For once there seemed to be honesty in them. “You’re like a dream, perfect in so many ways.”

She swallowed hard. “Not perfect,” she murmured.

He laughed, dropping his hand, easing back a bit. “Smart, gorgeous, sexy…and good on a boat. That’s a dream to me. And I’m insane for saying this. I don’t think that I’m what you want. I don’t know if I can be.” He drew a deep, shuddering breath. “And now we should get some sleep.”

They stood there for what felt like forever but was probably no more than a dozen seconds.

“Still want to see the boat in the morning?” he asked.

“Yes. And I’m not a complete coward, you know.” What did she mean by that? She wasn’t certain herself.

He smiled and stepped back, and she could almost believe she had imagined a moment more intimate than any she had ever shared.

“In the morning, then,” he said, and she wondered if his voice was as husky as it sounded, or if she only wanted to think so.

“Yeah…in the morning.”

“Should I see you back to your tent?” he teased.

“I’ll be fine. It’s only a few feet away.”

He smiled the rueful half smile that seemed to tear away sanity. “I’ll just keep an eye on you from here,” he assured her. “Apparently you didn’t bring your pepper spray.”

She shook her head, studying him, and lifted her hands. “No pepper spray. Should I have carried it?”

He groaned, then laughed. “Good night, Ms. Anderson. It’s been a lovely evening.”

“It is a lovely evening,” she murmured.

Suddenly he pulled her close, and she thought he was going to kiss her, take her in his arms and really kiss her, and if he did, she didn’t know what she was going to do.

But he didn’t. He just held her. She felt the electric heat and force of the length of his body, not at all dissipated by the cotton between them. He brushed the top of her head with his lips, then pulled back again. “Go, go on back,” he told her.

She stepped away, staring at him.

“Trust no one,” he told her.

“Not even you?” she whispered.

“Not even me. Go on.”

Husky had been replaced by something that resembled harsh. She backed away for several steps before turning to head to her tent.

When she reached it, she turned back.

He was exactly where she had left him.

Watching.

Somehow, she knew that when she went into the tent, he would remain there, watching—though for what, exactly, she had no idea.

But he would be there through the night. Of that she was entirely certain.

Just as she was certain she was the one who was the moth coveting the flame. In her life, she had never actually planned anything the way she was planning it now.

But there was an ache inside her.

Whether she burned to ashes or not, she had to touch the fire.

HANDS OFF.

That was what he had warned the others. They had business to attend to here.

But there was the other business, as well. And that kept him thinking, curious—and determined to find out everything he could about their fellow campers.

Clenching his teeth, he reminded himself that it was no surprise that tourists had come to Calliope Key for the weekend. But he couldn’t allow anger to waylay him, nor could he allow himself any emotional involvement. All he could do was seek justice now. And put an end to it all.

Beth Anderson was a distraction he couldn’t afford.

Keith swore softly in the night.

Then he spun, instantly alert at the smallest sound.

Matt, stretching, looking as if his joints ached and he wasn’t ready to pull a shift on guard duty, eyed him cautiously.

“Quite a conversation,” Matt said.

“I couldn’t exactly force her to go back to bed,” Keith reminded him.

“She’s something, huh?” Matt said, and grinned. Then the grin faded and he shook his head. “It’s dangerous. I wouldn’t want her to wind up…hurt.”

“She won’t,” Keith snapped out.

“If she—”

“She won’t,” he repeated.

“Hell of a story you told the other night,” Matt said, sounding somewhat sharp, as if the words were an accusation.

“It’s a well-known legend.”

“Did you tell it on purpose?”

Keith shrugged. “Why not? Throw it out there.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Matt shrugged, looking out to sea—and the yacht. “Nothing?” he inquired.

“All’s quiet.”

Matt nodded. “Actually, what else could we expect?”

“Nothing,” Keith murmured. He looked at Matt. Neither one of them felt at ease.

“Well, I’m up. You can catch a few winks.”

“Yup.”

“You’re not going to sleep, are you?” Matt asked.

“I’m damn well going to try.”

“Don’t worry. I know it isn’t your lack of faith in me. It’s just your nature.”

“Trust me. I’m going to try to sleep.”

“That’s right. You’ve got a date in the morning, don’t you?”

“What?”

“You have to show Beth Anderson the yacht.”

“Oh. Right.”

Great, just great. His entire conversation had been overheard.

“It will be fine. It’s Sunday at last. The working world will return to work,” Matt said. “And we’ll have the place to ourselves again.”

Keith murmured a disjointed, “Not exactly.”

“I don’t blame you, by the way,” Matt went on.

“Blame me for what?” Keith said.

“If Beth Anderson had looked at me with so much as a slightly interested smile, well…I’d forget everything, too.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Keith said.

He left Matt by the palm and returned to his tent.

But Matt had been right.

He lay awake. And listened.

He couldn’t help remembering a picture that was as vivid in his mind’s eye as if he were back at the morgue again, staring down at Brandon Emery’s face. He’d been so young. Twenty-four and so damn good at everything he did. One of the brightest newcomers, filled with all the right stuff, as they said.

Too damn good. He shouldn’t have been out alone. Especially when he had seen something, known something. And he had known something. Keith could still recall the last e-mail he’d gotten from Brandon, word for word.

I think I’ve got it. Honest to God, you’re not going to believe it. I’m going to check it out, and I’ll let you know next time I write.

But there had been no next time.

No next time for Brandon.

Keith had never heard from him again. Not until he had been called to see the body. What had seemed like a fairly easy—even run-of-the-mill—venture had turned deadly, and the image of Brandon Emery in the morgue was one that would never leave his mind.

His body had floated up near Islamorada. His boat had been found drifting a few miles farther north. But he hadn’t been anywhere near Islamorada when he had e-mailed.

He’d been here, working off Calliope Key.

And no matter what anyone said, he hadn’t simply drowned.

He sat up in a sweat. Swore.

Ted and Molly Monoco. He hadn’t known the couple, but he’d read about them. He’d never put them in the same arena as Brandon before. Brandon had been part of his work. Ted and Molly had been retirees, off to see the world.

But they’d been here, too. It might well have been damn stupid of him not to connect everything that had happened in the area. But what was the connection? Brandon’s boat had been no great shakes, and it hadn’t been stolen. Had the Monocos’boat been seized? He’d heard rumors that it had been seen. Rumors. And there had been similar incidents in the papers over the last year.

The Monocos had owned the kind of vessel any modern-day pirate might well envy.

Had they died for that reason?

How could that be connected to Brandon’s death, or their own quest here? Had the island itself become deadly, or remained deadly through the centuries, a place near enough to civilization to attract visitors, and yet remote enough for anything to happen? A place to kill and…

A place to hide the dead?

He would never sleep. Because now Beth was on the island. Beth, who wouldn’t let things rest.

It was chilling.

She would be going home soon. She would be in no great danger, once she returned to Miami. Once she forgot the island.

Forgot the fact that she thought she’d seen a skull…

Gotten over the idea of discovering just what had happened to Ted and Molly Monoco?

6

“HEY, DAD, WHERE’S AUNT BETH?”

Ben, who’d been stowing gear, looked up from the tent poles he was arranging as his daughter rubbed sleepy eyes and stared at him.

“Gone,” he said gravely.

She frowned, shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Dad, where is she?”

“I’m serious. She went out to see the yacht with Keith Henson.”

“What?”

His daughter’s incredulous excitement gave him pause. “I said,” he enunciated, “that your aunt went out to see the yacht with Keith Henson.”

“Oh, Dad. I heard you perfectly.”

“Then—”

“Oh, Dad, it’s too cool.” By then, Kimberly had come up behind her. “Did you hear that? She went with Keith to see the boat.”

“Wow!” Kim agreed.

“I didn’t think she had it in her.”

“She’s just so suspicious.”

“This is awesome.”

“Random.”

“Wicked.”

By then Ben was frowning. “What are you two going on about?”

“Oh, Dad. He’s a hunk.”

“Really fine,” Kim agreed somberly.

“I mean, there was…like, thunder.”

“And lightning.”

“Between them,” Amber finished.

“We were trying to figure out a way to get them together,” Kim admitted.

Ben scowled seriously then. “You two butt out, okay? She’s a grown-up, and she’s not going off any deep end over a guy just because he’s got a six-pack, okay? Don’t you two go pushing anything. She went to see the yacht because I raved about it, and that’s it, do you understand?”

“Okay,” Amber murmured.

“Seriously,” Kim agreed.

Then they looked at each other and ruined the effect, bursting into laughter.

“Amber Anderson,” he said firmly. “I mean it. Leave your aunt alone.”

“He’s acting like a male,” Kim murmured to Amber.

“All touchy,” Amber agreed.

“He is standing right here,” Ben told them.

“Sorry, Dad,” Amber said.

“I mean it.”

“We know you mean it,” Amber told him. She nudged Kim. “Hey, let’s go explore.”

He felt a frown furrowing his brow. “No exploring.”

“What?” Amber protested.

“Stay on the beach.”

“Why, Dad?”

Why? He didn’t know.

“Because I said so.”

“But, Dad—”

“Because I said so,” he repeated.

He turned away, because he really didn’t have a better explanation to give his daughter. As he paused to look down the beach, his frown deepened, and he tried to tell himself there was nothing to worry about.

But everyone, it seemed, was looking out to sea.

Not too far away, Matt was standing by one of the palms. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was looking toward the yacht.

Down farther, Amanda Mason was posed in almost the exact stance, staring out over the water, hugging her arms around herself.

And even farther down…

It was Brad. Staring out at the water, at the little boat nearing the majestic yacht.

A sense of unease filled him, like a little inward shiver.

He literally shook himself, irritated.

He dealt with the scum of the earth, so why was he so bothered now?

With a slight groan, he turned away. Good God, Keith’s buddies—including the owner of the yacht—were right there. The Masons were down the beach. Brad and Sandy were unknowns, but what the hell, they were there, too.

Beth was as uptight as an old schoolmarm, worse than he was himself.

Everything was fine.

“Hey there!”

He turned. Lee Gomez was waving to him, heading toward the interior of the island.

“Looking for a few good coconuts,” Lee called to him. “Want any?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” he returned.

Down the beach, Sandy had moved to stand behind Brad. She slipped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek on his back.

Brad didn’t seem to notice. He was intent on the yacht. Then he turned, as if aware that he was being watched, and saw Ben staring at him.

Ben waved.

Brad waved back, then turned his attention to Sandy.

It’s all just fine, Ben assured himself.

And it was. They would be getting off the island.

He was amazed to realize he was glad the weekend was nearly over. He usually dreaded going back to work after a break. What the hell. There ought to be some saying about the scumbag you knew and the scumbag you couldn’t quite recognize.

HE LOOKED GOOD ROWING, Beth decided.

She purposely turned her gaze to the yacht they were approaching, dismayed that she seemed to be doing little other than appreciating the physical assets of the man.

Around boats, guys wore trunks, cutoffs, T-shirts, even no shirts. They tended to be bronze, and the club attracted a slew of well-toned, healthy, fit specimens of masculinity.

Keith Henson just seemed to have it all and carry it off just a little bit better.

This morning he was in blue-and-black swim trunks, the kind a million surfers wore, the kind that shouldn’t have been the least bit erotic. He had eschewed a shirt, since the day was hot—nothing unusual in that. But his skin seemed to be an unreal masculine shade of bronze, and his muscles flexed with each tug on the oars. Shades hid his eyes from her view, and she certainly hoped her own hid her thoughts equally well. Suddenly she blushed. She had been thinking about how he was dressed, but now realized that she, too, was skimpily clad in a bathing suit and sarong—an outfit that she would have thought nothing of if she weren’t with him.

But there was something between them.

She couldn’t stop herself from thinking of it as chemistry, though she was sure she never would have felt such a draw if it hadn’t been for his smile. Or the darkness of his eyes. Or the keen mind that seemed to lie behind his every word.

His every lie.

“Well, do you like her?”

They had reached the yacht. He stood, rocking the little dinghy, and tied on. The aft ladder had been left down, and he swung on, reaching out a hand to her. With the dinghy bobbing on the waves, she accepted. She found herself noting the ease with which he helped her. The man was strong. Did that make him some kind of a criminal? And if he was, what kind of an idiot was she to be here with him?

She landed on deck with ease and looked around. She estimated the original price of the boat at more than six figures.

“Really, really nice,” she assured him.

“Come on. I’ll show you around.”

He took her around the upper deck, then to the flybridge, and finally down to the cabin. She whistled softly.

“It’s like a luxury-hotel suite,” she told him.

“The great thing is that she can do anything. Despite her size, she’s got top speed, and she’s rigged for fishing as well as pleasure cruising.”

“That’s why there’s the global positioning system, sonar, radar, communications—and whatever else is up there and down here?”

“We all like to fish,” he said with a shrug. “What can I get you? Juice, soda…water? Want coffee? It will only take a minute.”

“I’d love coffee,” she told him.

He seemed to be involved in the task, but she had the feeling that he was watching her all the while. For her reactions?

Or to make sure that she didn’t notice something she shouldn’t?

“Make yourself at home,” he said.

“Thanks.” She took a seat on the sofa in the main salon area. She might have been sitting in the salon of a resort. Beyond the windows, she could see the sea, the sky and a glimpse of the island.

“How long do you think you’ll be in this area?” she asked him.

“Oh, a while.”

She laughed suddenly. “Do you ever have a direct answer for anything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Okay, how long are you going to be here? A while. A ‘while’ can mean anything. If someone had asked me about this weekend, my reply would be clear and direct. I go home tonight.”

He shrugged, pouring coffee into mugs. “I don’t know how long I’m going to be in the area. When we’re fished out, dived out and done, I’ll head back.”

She let out an exasperated sigh. “Back to Virginia?”

Even then, she thought he hesitated. “Yes.”

“Do you have a house there?”

“Yes. There—is that direct enough?”

“What part?”

“Northern Virginia.”

“Does your city or town have a name?” she demanded.

He came around and handed her a mug. “Whoops, sorry, did you want cream or sugar?”

“Black is fine, thanks. Well?”

“A fairly well known name, yes. Alexandria.”

“There, see, it wasn’t so hard. You have a house, it’s in Virginia, in the city of Alexandria.”

“Do you have a house?” he inquired in turn, perching on the arm of the sofa. Close again. The kind of close that made her wonder why she felt the need to analyze everything. Why not just take a chance? Why care so much about exactly who or what he was?

Just enjoy the simple things in life, she told herself. Everything doesn’t need to last forever. She never just met a man and went with him…anywhere. It seemed that she had never been so emotionally confused before. Last night she had lain awake during all that had been left of the darkness, thinking, tormenting herself. She could…no, no, she couldn’t, sure she could, she shouldn’t, mustn’t…and then, why not? This sense of something hanging in the balance was new to her. This kind of need, this kind of longing…She couldn’t actually even remember ever being spontaneous, simply acting on instinct. And yet she was free and single, over twenty-one, always responsible, dependable…

Surely everyone had a right to a moment’s insanity, to fulfill a fantasy. It was Sunday and she would head home, back to the real world, and most likely thought she would never see him again.

“Hey, are you still with me?” he asked, bemused.

“I, um…yes, of course.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

He arched a brow. “House. Do you have a house?”

“Oh! I have a town house, yes.”

“And that would be where?” he asked.

“Coconut Grove, near the yacht club.”

“Nice.”

“I like it.”

“However—”

“Yes?”

“I’ve heard that Coconut Grove can be a dangerous area.”

“Any populated place can be dangerous. As you said yourself, even sailing the islands can be dangerous. But Miami has a bad rep. People are nice there. It’s like any other city. You’re most likely not going to be hit by a drug lord unless you’re dealing or something like that.” She shook her head suddenly, looking into her coffee cup. “You ask a simple question, and I give you a paragraph. I ask a question and get a one-liner. Maybe I’m the one with the problem.”

She was startled to realize that he didn’t laugh, or even smile, as she had expected he might. He was looking at her very seriously. He reached out and touched her. Light, totally casual. He just touched her chin with the tip of his forefinger. “I don’t think you have a problem at all,” he said very softly.

There it was. The moment when she was supposed to stand and say, “I have to go.”

But she didn’t. He eased down from the arm of the sofa, next to her, his scent a mixture of the wind, sea and salt, his flesh still reflecting the heat of the sun, emitting power from every pore, and she didn’t move. She waited.

His sunglasses were gone, and his eyes seemed as dark as ebony, as mysterious as an abyss, and he was studying her, long and intently. Once again she thought it was time to back away, because then he would rise, as well, and the moment would be broken.

But she didn’t move, and his fingers slipped into her hair, cradling the base of her skull. Then, at last, his lips touched hers. At first it seemed like nothing more than a hot and teasing whisper of air; then the fullness of his mouth pressed over hers. She wasn’t avoiding, wasn’t protesting; she was set adrift in a sea of fascination and discovery, her arms rising, hands resting on his shoulders, fingertips awakened by the simple feel of skin. He kissed her hard and deep, and she felt an infusion of warmth and arousal.

It was he who broke the kiss, easing away, and his voice was definitely husky when he spoke. “I think you’re supposed to tell me that you need to get back.”

She nodded. “You should be telling me that this isn’t your boat.”

He nodded in response. “We should go.”

“Certainly. Now.”

“Remember, I told you that you should be afraid of me.”

She shook her head, studying his eyes. “I should be. But I’m not. I mean, I am. But I’m not.”

“Tell me to take you back,” he said.

She shook her head slowly. “I guess I’m just not afraid enough.”

“Still…we need to…not…”

“You’re right.”

But neither moved, and when he kissed her again, she let her fingers play down the length of his back, and she felt his hands on her. Then, he broke away again, his voice extremely deep as he said, “I really should take you back.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“What you don’t want is to be involved with me,” he murmured.

“I don’t recall saying that I was involved.”

He moved away. “Ah, Ms. Anderson, you are far too decent, believe me. So if you’ll just say…” His voice trailed off.

She smiled, her senses perfectly attuned, her mind suddenly set upon her course. She moistened her lips slightly, her smile deepening. “You want me to say I should go? I should. Do I want to? No. Am I going to? I don’t think so, but then again, that’s up to you now.”

His groan was deep and shuddering, and then he stood with a suddenness that surprised her and swept her up into his arms.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he said.

“Absolutely not,” she agreed softly as she linked her arms around his neck.

Her eyes locked on his, she was barely aware that he was heading for the elegant master stateroom. The bed was huge. He managed to rip off the black-and-white cover without losing hold of her, and when he laid her down, the sheets seemed cool against the sun-touched heat of her flesh. He quickly lay down beside her. Her sarong was a tangle around them both, quickly eliminated, and she would forever remember the contrast between the coolness of the bedding and the warmth and vibrance of his flesh. They met in a passionate, exploratory kiss, lips melding, tongues sliding, mouths locked. His hands were every bit as powerful as she had imagined, his fingers as gentle, his touch as magnetic. His lips fell to her throat, to spots just below each ear, to the center of her throat once again, and lower, the tip of his tongue teasing up and down her collarbone, then lower still. Her fingers slid into his hair, testing its rich texture, blond and then ash, where it had been bleached by the sun. She felt the pressure of his body against her. With his hips and legs pressed to hers, she felt the swell of his arousal, taut beneath the surf trunks. Then his hands, adept at manipulation, released the hook of the bikini bra, followed by his lips, firm against her breasts, and his hands, caressing, cradling. His lips teased after every touch, moving over her areolas, nipples, up the length of her throat again. The frenzy of caresses wet, hot, seemed to send streaks of pure fire sailing through her bloodstream, and rushing with ardent precision into the very heart of her sexuality. She didn’t remember ever feeling as she did now, and knew that was because she had never actually felt anything this vital, this passionate, alive, tempestuous…ever before.

He paused, his eyes on hers, smile totally seductive. “This is insanity.”

“We’ve agreed on that.”

“You need to go back. You shouldn’t be here.”

“We’ve agreed on that, as well,” she whispered.

“You shouldn’t be involved with me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of being involved with you.”

“One might call this involved.”

“One might.”

He shook his head. His lips touched down again. For a moment they teased a mere breath above her own. Then the kiss deepened, and their limbs entwined as their bodies met and melded. The naked length of his chest seemed glorious, the sound of his breathing filled her senses, along with the thrum of their hearts. His flesh felt like the sun and the sea, smooth, slick, hot. He moved erotically against her, her breasts crushed to him.

She clung to him, splaying her fingers down his back, along his spine, down to the waistband of his trunks, around in front to the ties. Her fingers weren’t as adept as his, not quite as experienced. His hands covered hers, though he never broke the kiss. She was dimly aware when the trunks were gone, acutely aware when the naked length of his body pressed against hers. She felt his fingers slipping beneath the bikini bottom as he effortlessly did away with the last barrier between them, which in itself seemed an exotic ecstasy. She was pressed close to him again, and his fingers seduced a path down her spine, curved over her buttocks, brought her flush against his arousal. His lips continued to caress and assail. Then he moved, sleek, agile, shifting atop her, lips pressing against the hollows of her collarbone, teasing her breasts. His hand glided down the curve of her form, pressed apart her thighs. She felt the stroke of his touch first, and then the taunt of his tongue; felt as if she burned within, caught in a sudden, swift maelstrom of fire. Pure sensual ecstasy exalted her even as the rage of intimacy dismayed her, though for only a split second in the rush of sensation.

He was an incredible lover.

Subtle and bold. Teeth, tongue, lips, touch, all meshed in a passionate dance of sensuality that left her breathless, thundering, quivering somewhere between total vibrant ecstasy and simple delicious death. She arched, writhed, thrashed, cried out God-knew-what.…

Trembled, throbbed…begged.

Involved.

Good Lord, yes, she was involved, any more involved and she would be living in his skin. She had sworn to herself that she had sense and reason and knew what she was doing, but this was…

Involved.

She was more involved than she had ever been. More touched, elated, electrified, swept away, taken…

She tore at his hair, dragged him to her, and before she could even meet his lips again with her own, she shuddered with a new sense of sheer carnal elation as the force of his body thrust into hers.

The ship rocked.

God, the man knew how to coerce with the slowest, gentlest movements, and then to thunder and pulse with the force of a wicked gale in the North Sea. She knew there were moments when she literally forgot everything except the burning need to be with him, one with him, feeling the shudder and quiver, strength and power, the slick wet heat, the movement, the hunger….

She must have shrieked, screamed…loud enough to wake the dead and half the ocean. She knew he must have felt the burst of the climax that violently seized her, so euphoric she thought she knew at last what they meant by a thousand little deaths.

Surely he felt, he knew…

And waited, his own climax erupting seconds later—or hours, she wasn’t at all sure, she lay in such a damp bath of steam that she wasn’t sure she was breathing, or that her heart continued to beat at all anymore.

She had thought she could just walk away. Congratulate herself on a mature affair. On allowing herself adult pleasure, denying the complications of real emotion.

But nothing came without a price, and she knew that. She’d told herself not to get involved…

Too late. This was involved.

Easing to her side, he held her, smoothed back her hair. She wondered desperately what their pillow talk would be after such a sudden and volatile interlude. When he rolled her to face him, his eyes were dark and intense, and the slightest smile curved his lips. Again he touched her hair, and she had to wonder what he was seeing in her eyes, how much he could read from her face.

God help her, she didn’t know what to say or how to act. She was afraid she would start stuttering, try to explain that she never did things like this, that he’d been unique somehow, and that he’d been more than she had ever begun to imagine.

But there was no chance for awkward words, no reason to promise that of course they would see each other again.

Beth’s eyes flew open as she heard the sound of a dinghy approaching, the sound of chatter and laughter.

The girls!

His eyes widened and his brows arched as he heard them at the same time.

“Dear God,” she swore, flying up even as she spoke, stunned, horrified.

Feeling like an idiot. Anyone could have come aboard at any time. What in God’s name had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking. She’d been reacting, and feeling….

She hadn’t wanted to get out of pillow talk this badly!

“Hey!” He was up, too, and reaching for his trunks in the blink of an eye. She looked in panic at the condition of the bed, and wondered about the state of her hair at the same time.

“Got it,” he assured her, tossing over a brush from the nightstand and reaching for the sheets. She tripped back into her bathing suit, fingers shaking so hard she couldn’t get the bra top fastened.

“Don’t panic, you’re a grown-up, you know,” he said calmly, fixing it for her.

“That’s my niece!” she exclaimed, running the brush viciously through her hair. “And her friend, and they’re at a horribly impressionable age. I’m supposed to be a role model. You don’t understand. Her mother is dead—”

“Don’t panic,” he repeated softly. “I do understand, and we’re fine. Get topside. I’ll finish making the bed.”

She sped out of the cabin. There was a boating magazine lying in a wire rack by the table. She nearly ripped it apart in her haste to grab it. Then she sat on the sofa, her heart racing painfully again.

The girls—and whoever had come with them—were just coming aboard.

She stretched out and crossed her ankles, trying to look casual and comfortable. Then she decided she looked too casual and comfortable, and uncrossed them.

She crossed them again, smiling, as Amber made her way down to the cabin. “This is too cool. Way, way too cool,” she said.

“Ohmygod,” Kim breathed, coming down behind her.

“Like a floating hotel suite, huh?” she said, trying to sound cheerful and welcoming. She decided she was loud and fake, but apparently she sounded all right to everyone else.

Amber turned to her with wide eyes. “Like a floating palace.”

“Not that lush,” Ben protested, coming down behind the girls. He looked at his sister and grinned—apparently oblivious, she noticed gratefully. But then, he probably thought he knew her. Just as she had thought she knew herself.

Keith came striding breezily out from the stateroom. “Hey, kids. Want a tour? Or would you rather roam around on your own?” he asked.

Amber didn’t get to answer. “Would you look at the kitchen!” Kim exclaimed.

“Galley,” Amber corrected.

Kimberly laughed, running her hand over the counter and staring at the appliances. “No way. This is a full kitchen,” she protested.

“Seriously, it’s not a salon, either, it’s a living room,” Amber agreed, looking at Keith.

“You can go around the world in her, can’t you?” Kim asked.

“You could.”

“Have you ever?” she asked.

“No. But she does offer all the comforts of home,” he said. “Speaking of which, would you like something to eat? Drink? You want a smoothie?”

“You can make a smoothie?” Amber asked.

“Yup. I’ll see what we have.”

He delved into the refrigerator, and the girls went to join him. Ben looked at Beth. “You don’t mind that I brought them?” he asked.

“Don’t be silly.”

“We didn’t interrupt anything, did we?” he asked, a frown starting to crease his brow.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she protested. Then afraid that she was about to blush the shade of a beet, she leaped to her feet, closing the magazine.

“Hey, did you get a good look at the upper deck and the flybridge?” he asked excitedly.

She smiled. Big boys, big toys.

“It’s an amazing yacht,” she said.

“And to think I thought I had the prize of the seas when I bought mine.”

In the galley, a blender roared to life just as she started to answer, so she had to smile and wait.

“You have a wonderful boat, and I love it,” she said loyally at last.

“Oh, I love it, too. It’s just…well, who wouldn’t want to own something like this, huh?” he asked.

“Dad, you want a strawberry smoothie?” Amber called.

“Sure.”

“Aunt Beth?”

“Absolutely,” she murmured. She followed her brother into the galley and accepted a large paper cup from her niece.

She couldn’t help it; she felt wary of Keith. She had to keep her distance. She was afraid even to make eye contact, terrified that at any minute she was somehow going to give herself away. She was certainly over twenty-one, but she felt so responsible toward her niece. She’d always tried to teach her that sex should be special; that it was the most intimate act between two people and shouldn’t even be contemplated without sincere emotion, the deepest respect, and a sense of responsibility and consequences.

Well, emotionally, she was involved, like it or not. Had she been in the least responsible? No. And as to thoughts of future consequences…

It terrified her to realize just how much she wished there could be one. That he would reappear somewhere in her world, that he would be a responsible member of the human community and not just a diver. Or…a common criminal. Or worse.

A murderer.

No. She knew instinctively that wasn’t true. Or else she just wanted to believe it.

Keith didn’t have any problem being entirely natural and casual. He chatted easily. Beth wasn’t even sure what was being said half the time.

Then they heard the motor of the yacht’s dinghy, returning with Matt and Lee and the supplies. Ben said it was time to go, and thanked Keith, then Matt and Lee. They all talked about what a pleasure it had been to meet, said they would undoubtedly run into one another somewhere along the line sometime.

“Beth, you can come back with the girls and me,” Ben said. “Save Keith the bother.”

“Of course.”

“I can take you back—” Keith began.

“The girls and I have already packed up. We don’t need to head back to the island, just straight to the boat,” Ben said.

“Perfect,” Beth murmured.

It wasn’t perfect. Perfect would be if they all disappeared, if there didn’t have to be any words, if she could just go back where she had been and pretend. Pretend Keith Henson was someone she would see again, someone she had known forever and ever…

Someone she trusted.

She had to trust him. She’d just gone to bed with him.

She felt more awkward than ever. She was at ease saying goodbye to Matt and Lee, but she couldn’t meet Keith’s eyes, and she only shook his hand, while she’d kissed the others goodbye on the cheek. So much for appearing completely casual.

She couldn’t escape quite that easily. He stopped her and took her hands. His eyes met hers. Amused but affectionate, she thought. Affectionate? She wanted so much more.

She still felt so ridiculously awkward.

“We’ll talk soon,” he said.

She nodded, hoping she looked casual, carefree.

“I will find you,” he said softly.

“Finding me won’t be very difficult,” she murmured.

“Strange timing, huh?”

She didn’t know exactly what he meant. And she couldn’t ask him. She couldn’t stand being so close to him any longer, with so very much unsaid.

She had to escape, and she did, reaching her brother’s dinghy before the others.

As Ben revved his little motor to life, he laughed with the girls as they raved about the Sea Serpent. She was grateful she didn’t have to speak. She kept a smile plastered to her face as she lifted a hand in farewell to the men standing on deck.

Soon Ben had set their course for home. She reflected that she hadn’t even said goodbye to the others—any of the Masons, or Brad and Sandy. The Masons she would see again, and as for Brad and Sandy…

Thinking of the pair still gave her an uneasy feeling.

She looked away from the yacht at last and turned her gaze westward, toward the Florida coast. It would all come into perspective, she told herself.

She would get home. She would believe she had been silly, that she couldn’t have seen a skull. That nothing had been going on during their stay on the island. No one had lurked around with evil intent.

And as for Keith…

She would stop thinking about him eventually. In her mind, he would lose the charismatic appeal that had all but obsessed her. She would remember him as a man. As someone special she had once met. Handsome, virile, exciting…but too laid-back, too ready to enjoy good times with his friends, too lacking in ambition.

It would all come into perspective….

But things always came back around to one fact.

She was certain she had seen a skull.

Just as she was certain there was something about Keith. No matter how appealing the man might be, he simply wasn’t what he seemed.

There had been an honesty in the way he’d touched her, but only lies had fallen from his lips.

7

“I ADMIT TO STILL BEING confused,” redheaded Ashley Dilessio said, easing back in her chair at Nick’s, her uncle’s restaurant on the bay.

Nick’s was everything good about the area, Beth thought. Boats came in to dock, houseboats were moored nearby, and anyone was welcome. The tables were rough wood, an overhang sheltered the outside seating from the sun, and it felt like a continuation of island living in the midst of a hectic, overpopulated, multicultural community.

Not to take anything away from the yacht club, she decided a little defensively. The two establishments were just different. And of course part of Nick’s appeal was that she’d known Ashley most of her life.

Now Ashley was with the police force, in the forensics department, and her husband, Jake, was a homicide detective.

“Okay, you got to the island. You walked with the kids. You thought you saw a skull. A man showed up—you hid it. You went back with Ben, and there was no skull,” Ashley said, her green eyes studying Beth with a slight frown wrinkling her forehead.

“That’s the gist of it, yes. Ben thinks I saw a conch shell,” Beth said, her tone a little sheepish. “It might be nothing, it might be something. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Ted and Molly Monoco.”

“I remember the story, but…I thought they were sailing around the world,” Ashley said. “No wonder no one’s seen them.”

“But what if it was a skull?”

“You said that whatever you saw was gone when you went back.”

“Maybe I just couldn’t find it,” Beth persisted.

Ashley stirred her straw around in the large glass of iced tea in front of her. “This isn’t my jurisdiction, or even Jake’s, you know.”

“But you have contacts,” Beth reminded her.

Ashley nodded thoughtfully.

Beth let out a deep sigh. “Shouldn’t someone check it out?”

“Yes,” Ashley agreed. “We can get the Coast Guard out there to take a look, if nothing else. But…why would the skull—if it was a skull—have disappeared? Did any of the other boaters seem suspicious?”

Beth groaned. “All of them.”

Ashley smiled. “Okay, tell me.”

Beth began describing the other campers on the island: the Masons, who Ashley knew casually, Brad and Sandy, and the three men in the exquisite yacht.

“Three hunks, huh?” Ashley teased.

“Um. They looked the part.”

“What part?”

“Oh, you know, the type who would be out fishing, diving…boating.”

“You mean they had beer bellies and could open the bottles with their teeth?”

“Ashley!” She flushed slightly, remembering the way she’d described Ben’s mythical “friends” who were due to arrive on the island.

“Sorry, just kidding. But they don’t sound like modern-day pirates. Not if they already had such a fantastic boat themselves.”

“So there really are pirates out there?” Beth asked, keeping to herself the thought that maybe Lee hadn’t been the legitimate owner of that boat after all.

“You bet. There’s lots of money—and very little law—once you’re out on the ocean,” Ashley said seriously. She was doodling idly on a napkin. “Describe your guy.”

“Which one?”

Ashley grinned. “The one you’re talking about the most, seem the most suspicious of—and the most attracted to.”

“Ashley…”

“Beth, just describe the guy. Tall? Dark? Face shape—round…long…?”

“Um, really good bone structure. Cheekbones broad, chin kind of squared, really strong. Eyes…” She watched as Ashley sketched on the napkin. Her friend was good. “Farther apart. And the brows have a high arch. The nose is a little longer, dead straight. The lips are fuller. And the hair…well, depends on whether it was wet or dry.”

“Just go for the face.”

“A little leaner there, below the cheekbones,” Beth said. Then she exhaled, leaning back, staring at Ashley. “You’d think you knew the guy. That’s incredible.”

Ashley shrugged, sliding the cocktail napkin with the perfect likeness to the side of her plate. “Let’s hope so. I’m being paid to do it.”

Beth shook her head, staring at Ashley, thinking of the man whose likeness her friend had just drawn.

“Hey! Look what the summer wind brought along,” a masculine voice said, breaking the moment.

They both looked up. Jake had arrived. Winking at Beth, he kissed the top of his wife’s head and pulled out a chair. He was a rugged-looking man; he either looked his part as a cop or could be taken for one of her boat people. In fact, he was both. He’d spent years dealing with the hardest, darkest, ugliest secrets of a big city, and still knew how to come home and smile, play with his toddling son and baby daughter, love his wife and enjoy his friends.

“Beth thinks she might have found one of the missing Monocos,” Ashley said.

Beth was startled when he looked at her sharply, then at his wife again. “I’m not sure they are missing. I just heard a rumor that their boat was seen recently.”

“She might have found a skull on Calliope Key,” Ashley explained further.

“It disappeared,” she murmured, then shook her head. She couldn’t be hesitant. “Actually, I’m sure I saw a skull. But I got scared and tried to hide it. Then I couldn’t find it. And—”

She broke off, then plunged back in. “Well, if someone else had hidden the skull, it didn’t seem like a good idea to make a production of digging it up.”

Jake grimaced, looked at Ashley again, and then smiled at Beth. “Don’t worry, kid, we’ll get on it,” he assured her. “I’ll call Bobby—Robert Gray, a friend with the Coast Guard. I’m sure he’ll help. Will that make you feel better?”

“Yes, and thank you,” she told him.

“Hey, are we invited to your next big event at the club?”

“Absolutely,” she assured him. “You can come in anytime, you know that. Just use my name. No, better yet, use Ben’s. He’s the paying member.” She grinned.

“Want to hear more about Beth’s excursion on Calliope Key?” Ashley asked her husband. “Some of her new acquaintances sound fascinating.”

“Oh?” Jake said, and looked at Beth curiously.

“She met three hunks. Rich ones, maybe.”

“Ohhhh,” Jake said.

Beth groaned and stood. “You two are cops—you’re supposed to be taking me seriously. I’m out of lunchtime. Call me.”

Ashley grinned, shaking her head. “We’re taking you seriously, really. The thing is, your hunks do sound intriguing.” Ashley paused, her expression turning serious. “I promise we’ll find someone—the right someone—to look into what you saw.”

“And we will call you,” Jake promised.

Shaking her head, Beth turned and left them. But she smiled as she did so. She could trust them. If they said they would see to it that the Coast Guard checked out the island, it would be done.

AS SOON AS BETH HAD GONE, Ashley pulled the cocktail napkin from the side of her plate, setting in directly in front of her husband.

He frowned and stared at his wife.

“He was out at Calliope Key. Where Beth thinks she saw a skull.”

Jake picked up the napkin, but hardly bothered to study it.

“She sounds as if she’s paranoid already,” Ashley murmured.

Jake shook his head.

“Perhaps,” Ashley began, “I should—”

“No,” Jake said firmly. “No. She’s back here, and she’s safe. There’s no reason to say anything.”

“We both know—”

“Yes, we both know. But we don’t know what the hell else is going on. Leave it. I’ll call Bobby, they’ll check out the island. Other than that, there just isn’t a hell of a lot we can do.”

“Jake—”

“Ashley, it’s out of our hands. And besides, since we don’t really know anything for certain, what the hell are we going to say?”

She sighed, still unsure that silence was the right course.

KEITH SURFACED, lifting his mask, spitting out his mouthpiece. He saw Lee on deck—his binoculars in his hands, looking toward the island.

Hand on the ladder, Keith kicked off his flippers and crawled aboard.

“What?” he asked Lee, shedding the rest of his equipment.

Lee shook his head slowly. “I’m not sure what they’re doing.”

The day before, they had caught sight of Sandy and Brad on their old scow of a boat—and the couple had been watching them through their binoculars.

“What does it look like they’re doing?” Keith asked.

“Stashing, stowing…getting rid of something. In a hurry.”

Keith took the binoculars from Lee and turned slowly, scanning the horizon. Damn! He thought as he sighted a Coast Guard cutter. Beth. She just wasn’t going to let it rest. She’d gotten the authorities involved. The problem was, they weren’t going to find anything.

“Take a look,” he said softly to Lee.

Lee took the binoculars back and followed Keith’s line of vision. “Coast Guard,” he muttered. He looked at Keith. “Anything we need to worry about ourselves?” he asked. “This isn’t the time to be making explanations.”

Keith shook his head.

“Nothing down there?” Lee asked tensely.

“Not yet.”

“What was on the radar?”

“An old tire iron.”

Lee swore. “Well, hell, let’s get ready for guests, then, huh?”

Keith nodded.

He turned, moving down the deck to find the freshwater hose and rinse down his equipment before stowing it. Lee hurried down to the cabin.

As he worked, Keith was startled to see that Brad had gotten in his dinghy and was motoring quickly away from his anchored boat.

He chose the direction away from Keith and his group, disappearing around the island.

He was gone for only a matter of minutes, back long before the Coast Guard cutter approached.

Brad hadn’t even turned on the dinghy’s motor, he thought. He had used the oars, but had moved with incredible haste.

Why?

The answer was obvious. To try to go unnoticed. And to get rid of something.

Or someone?

ON MONDAY BETH HAD BEEN hopeful, by Tuesday she had been mad, and on Wednesday she was morose, then angry again, this time with herself.

Keith Henson knew her name, where she came from and where she worked. She realized that she’d had it in her head that he was going to find her, that he was going to say he had to see her again, that he was as mesmerized, fascinated, and in love or lust with her as she was with him.

But obviously he hadn’t made any effort to locate her—she was simply too easy to find.

Every time the phone rang, she answered it eagerly, then was disappointed. Since she had come home, she realized, nothing had changed.

She still thought about two things: Keith Henson and the skull on the island.

She realized that she was becoming obsessive, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. Despite the fact that Ashley and Jake had been true to their word—they had taken her seriously and gotten a friend to order the Coast Guard to search the island—nothing had been discovered. She should have been happy—there had been no corpse on the island, no body parts.

But she couldn’t help wondering where the skull she had seen had been hidden, or whether at this point it had been removed entirely.

At home—and even at work—she had spent hours online, looking up everything she could find on the Monocos. There were pictures of them alongside their magnificent yacht. There was even an old photo of them—from perhaps fifteen years ago—when they’d been at her club. That meant some of the older members might have known them.

She’d also searched the name Keith Henson on the Internet. She found a dozen men of that name who had Web sites or were mentioned in articles.

He was not one of them.

She was thinking about both the island and Keith now, as usual, tapping a pencil idly on her desk, when there was a knock on her office door and George Berry, the current commodore of the club, poked his head in.

“Beth?”

“Hi, Commodore.”

“May I come in?”

“Of course, please do.”

He sat in the chair across from her. “I’ve been worrying about the Summer Sizzler.”

“Oh?” She smiled questioningly.

The Summer Sizzler was an annual event, and all new members were seriously encouraged to attend. It was an important date on the club’s social calendar. The food had to be the best. The entertainment was expected to be the same. And it was coming up in less than two weeks. She, along with the entertainment committee, had it well in hand.

“Chef Margolin has been working hard,” Beth assured the commodore, when he didn’t say anything further. “He hasn’t given me his final menu yet, but I’m willing to bet that once again, he’ll completely outdo himself.”

The commodore waved a hand in the air. He was a man in his early sixties, with a head of the most remarkable silver hair she’d ever seen. His wife had the exact shade. They both had twinkling blue eyes, and in Beth’s mind, they were adorable. They’d had no children, and for as long as she could remember, they had put their time and efforts into their various boats, charities and the club.

Like the Monocos, she found herself thinking.

“You are planning something very special, aren’t you?”

She arched her brows, looking at him. How special? The Summer Sizzler was like an end-of-the-season party—not as major as New Year’s, Christmas or the Grand Ball, when the new commodore was installed each year.

Special?

Of course, there was going to be a great menu. And she’d ordered torches, and wonderful light and flower arrangements for the outside bar area, hired a band….

“Really special,” Commodore Berry said insistently.

His concern gave her an idea. “I think you’re going to be very happy with my plan,” she told him.

“You do have a plan for something special?” he asked.

She saw no reason to tell him that her plan had just come to mind. “Give me a day or two, and I’ll lay it out for you, all right?”

“It’s going to be incredible, right?” He smiled anxiously. “It has to be, you know. I want to go down in history as the best commodore this club has ever had.”

“We’ll see to it,” she vowed.

As soon as he had left her office, she jumped up and headed for the stairs that led down to the first level, with the dining room and, beyond glass doors, the patio. Just a little while earlier, she had noticed a member she had been anxious to talk to—Manny Ortega.

Manny was in his sixties, just like the commodore. He was a fascinating man, who’d come over from Cuba in his teens—lying about his age in order to enter the States with a conga band. He had worked clubs all over Miami in his day.

She was certain he must have worked with Ted Monoco at some time in his life, and she was more than certain he knew the couple, because, according to an item in the paper, he had called the police about the Monocos, suggesting that they were missing.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he said to her as she approached his table. He was sitting, Cuban coffee in front of him, smoking and staring out at the different vessels in their berths.

Manny loved his Cuban cigars. He always had the real thing. She wasn’t at all sure how he got them, but she never asked.

“Hey, yourself,” she said. “And thank you. Can I join you?”

“Absolutely. What’s up? Need an aging drummer?”

She laughed. “You never know when I’ll take you up on that, Manny. Actually, I was curious. I happened to be reading some old newspapers the other day. Are you a good friend of the Monocos? Ted and Molly?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Have you heard anything from them?”

He shook his head slowly, his mouth downcast. “Not a word.”

“Do you think something happened to them?”

“Well, I did. But the police told me the other day that their yacht had been spotted, so I guess I have to respect their right to privacy. Seems odd, though. They’ve always kept in touch with me before.”

“It does seem odd. Do you know who actually saw their boat?” she asked.

He tapped his cigar, studying the smoke. Then he looked at her. “Is there a reason you’re asking all this?”

“Oh, we just came back from Calliope Key, and it made me start thinking.”

Manny lifted his hands in a fatalistic gesture. “Who knows about people? They tell me that Ted and Molly can do what they want, that they are adults. So…did I offend them somehow? I don’t know. Could they show up tomorrow? I suppose.”

“But…don’t they have bills to pay and stuff? Taxes?”

“Everything is done automatically from Ted’s accounts. He set it up when they started planning to sail around the world. I just hadn’t realized he was planning on closing the door on old friends.”

“So no one has talked to them?”

He looked upset, and she wondered if she was treading on dangerous ground. Manny’s feelings had evidently been hurt. He might have started off worried, but whatever the police had said to him must have made him believe that his old friends just didn’t care anymore.

She leaned forward. “It doesn’t sound like the Monocos to me,” she said.

He arched a brow. “You knew them?”

“No, but…they were—or are—nice people, right?”

“The best,” Manny agreed.

“Then it doesn’t seem right.”

“No, it does not seem right. But it is…what is.” He stood and stretched. He was a man of about five-nine, compact and wiry, his features weathered. He set a hand on her head. “You’re a sweet person. Kind to worry, but don’t. It will do nothing but frustrate you, I promise.”

But they were your friends, she longed to remind him. She managed not to say anything, in the interest of remaining employed.

She nodded, then, on a whim, asked, “Manny, have you ever met a man named Keith Henson?”

He frowned. “I do seem to recognize the name. In what context, I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ve ever met him, but the name rings a bell.” She waited, he frowned. After a minute, he shook his head again.

“How about Lee Gomez?”

“Hey…this is Miami. I know dozens of Gomezes.”

“But a Lee?”

Again he shook his head.

“Matt Albright?”

“No…can’t say I know that name.”

“How about Sandy Allison or Brad Shaw?”

He stared at her, frowning and took a puff of his cigar. “What is this today, Beth? Twenty Questions? All these names? There are three million people living here.”

She flushed. “They’re just people we met on the island.”

“Honey, people have been going to that island for centuries. Lots of them. From all over.”

“I know. But the name Keith Henson rings some kind of bell?”

“Yeah. But I don’t know what.”

“Thanks, Manny,” she murmured. “Sorry for bugging you.”

“I have to go, big date this afternoon,” he said. She had always thought of him as a dapper man, rather an old-fashioned word, but one that fit him. He inclined his head toward her. “Thank you for the lovely company, Beth. See you later.”

“Oh, Manny, I’m sorry. One more question. A man named Eduardo Shea bought the studios from the Monocos. Do you know him?”

“Sure.”

“Is he…a nice guy?”

“Thinking of salsa lessons?”

“Maybe. Mostly I’m planning something for the club.”

“The studios are doing well under his ownership, I have heard. He’s a decent fellow, a good teacher. Is that what you need to know?”

“Yes, and thanks for the help.”

“My pleasure.” He stood, ready to go, then paused. “You are a very nice person, Beth. It’s your job, I know, to be nice to people, but there’s a real kindness behind everything you do. Don’t make life miserable for yourself. Trust me. I don’t know if Ted and Molly are alive or dead. I know that my fears make sense, and that the explanations I hear from the police make sense, as well. I’ve learned that there’s nothing I can do. You should learn from my experiences.”

“Thanks, Manny,” Beth said. “You’re pretty nice yourself.”

He winked. “You’re cuter. Have a good day, Beth.”

He left. Beth waved, then rose. Walking back inside and through the dining room, she noted that Amanda was seated at a table with a group of women. She was wearing a white skirt suit and a broad-brimmed white hat.

Only she could carry it off, Beth thought, hoping to pass through unnoticed. But Amanda looked up, and Beth groaned inwardly. She was going to be asked about something. Amanda would do her best to make it appear that she wasn’t doing her job.

But Amanda only stared at her for a long moment, then she turned away, as if she had assessed Beth and dismissed her entirely.

Beth returned to her office. As she reached it, she hesitated. Her door stood ajar. She could have sworn that she had closed it. A sense of unease raked along her spine. She gave herself a mental shake. Ridiculous. A member had simply come up to talk to her, then not closed the door all the way. The commodore had come back, perhaps.

She smiled, thinking she was really becoming absurd.

But as she walked into her office, she was convinced that things were…wrong. It seemed that the papers on her desk had been moved slightly. Frowning, she began looking through her things. Nothing seemed to be missing.

She glanced at her computer.

It was off.

Her frown deepened. She hadn’t turned it off.

A chill shivered through her. And yet…there was nothing really frightening here. Maybe there had been a power surge. Maybe she had hit the off button without realizing it.

But she never turned it off during the day.

Still…

It was broad daylight. There were dozens of members and employees in and around the club. There was absolutely no reason to feel a sense of danger.

Yet she sat down slowly, the icy hot trickle of fear refusing to abate.

It remained with her throughout the day, and even followed her into the darkening parking lot when she finally left that night.

THURSDAY.

Morning dawned.

Keith and Matt stood on the aft deck, looking across the water.

The disreputable vessel belonging to Brad and Sandy remained where she had been at anchor.

Matt let out a long sigh. “Guess they have no jobs to get back to,” he said.

“They don’t know what we’re doing,” Keith said with certainty, though their presence had disturbed him, as well. He had explored the area where he thought Brad had dumped something, but he hadn’t found anything. Still, the ocean was huge, and water and sand shifted. He hadn’t known exactly where to look—or what to look for. He was still convinced, however, that Brad had thrown something into the sea.

Something he hadn’t wanted the Coast Guard to find.

“I still don’t like it,” Matt said.

“I don’t like it, either. Frankly, I don’t like anything about the two of them. But as far as what we’re doing goes…Matt, one of us stays on board as lookout, all the time. We can’t stop our work completely just because other people are anchored nearby.”

“They’ve been anchored nearby for too long,” Matt pointed out.

“Maybe they’re saying the same thing about us.”

Matt snapped around, looking at him sharply. “I don’t want to leave,” he murmured.

“Maybe we should, though. Spend a night among the masses. See if we can pick up any idle gossip, any rumors.”

Matt stared at him, eyes narrowed, and shook his head. “Keith, I think you’re going off track. I’m upset that Brandon is dead, too. But now you’re convinced that some old couple’s disappearance is somehow connected, but I don’t see how.”

“They might be dead, too.”

“Lots of bad things happen. Lots of people die. They’re not all related.”

“Nope, not all of them. But I don’t think it would hurt to do a little investigating.”

Matt looked like he was about to argue, but then he shrugged. “You might be right.” Then he smiled. “I imagine you want to try to get an invite into the domains of a certain yacht club?”

“There are plenty of places to put ashore,” Keith said.

“I repeat—”

“Yeah, I think we should head to that area. Other than Brad and Sandy, those were the people hanging here.”

“We’ll talk it over with Lee,” Matt agreed. “And you’re right,” he murmured, sounding a bit disgruntled. “It’s just damn convenient for you, huh?”

Keith shrugged. Hell, yes, he was anxious to get over there.

He was worried about Beth Anderson. She was home, but he knew in his gut that the Coast Guard had been out here because of her. Still, Brad and Sandy were the suspicious ones, and they were out here, while Beth was safely on the mainland. He shouldn’t feel uneasy. But he did.

What the hell were Brad and Sandy up to? Hanging around forever, tossing things into the water.

He wanted to just go over and ask them what they were doing, but he didn’t want to arouse suspicion against himself. He reminded himself firmly that a boatload of Coast Guard sailors had arrived on the island, stayed a good long time and searched the interior—and found nothing.

Beth had not given up. She had gone to someone with the power to make things happen, and what was to say she wouldn’t push the issue again?

His smile faded, and he shook his head. She was like a dog with a bone, refusing to let go.

And that could be really dangerous for her. Because something was going on out here. He was sure of it.

Brad had been afraid they would search his boat, so he had gotten rid of something in the ocean.

So why were he and Sandy still there, watching them all the time?

It all kept coming back to one thing.

The skull.