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She was staring at the beach, her shoulders hunched in the far too big sweatshirt.
When she shuddered, he asked, “You want to go? We can do this another time.”
Her silence worried him. God, if he’d pushed too hard...
“Maybe you need more time,” he offered. Mike’s life might be contained, but he very rarely felt out of his element.
He was the guy who always knew what to do to save the day.
“No.” Her voice was soft in the dark, silent world of his car’s interior. “I’m doing this tonight.”
He considered calling Sara Havens. He had her cell and home phone numbers and knew she’d pick up.
Kacey looked at him. The glint in her eye caught a hold of him. Held him. “I have to do this, Michael. With or without you, but I hope to God it’s with you. I have to go back out on that beach. Now. Tonight. I have to take it back.”
He nodded. “Whenever you’re ready.”
All direction came from her.
He’d wait all night if that was what it took.
She wasn’t going out on that beach alone.
* * *
HER KNEES SHAKY, Kacey stood on the pavement beside Michael’s car. She let go of the door handle. She wanted to close her eyes and listen to the ocean, to hear the gentle swell of the waves, but couldn’t. Instead, her gaze darted everywhere. Looking in the shadows. Seeing shadows within them. What if they were out there, hoping she’d come back?
What if they were waiting to finish what they’d started?
The beach was deserted. This late, on a chilly March Thursday, tourists weren’t in town and locals were busy living their lives.
That night the beach only drew the damaged. Or maybe the occasional person walking a dog.
She saw someone off in the distance underneath a light that marked the beginning of the private beach for the residences just above. A lone figure. With a dog.
She took a step forward and then stopped. She thought she might pass out but recognized the panic attack. A fit of nerves. And calmed. She knew that feeling. Had been experiencing it since she was a kid. That sense of not knowing exactly how the next moments would go. A lot of times when she and Lacey had gone on a shoot—a new job—she’d had that feeling.
Lacey had, too. They’d probably fed off each other.
Which was why she hadn’t been able to make this move with her sister. She needed to feed off Michael’s calm. His strength.
“What do you need to do?” Was he learning to read her just like Lacey did? At the moment the idea didn’t sound preposterous. Or even threatening.
She shivered and slipped her arm through his. With his hands in his pockets, he didn’t seem to react. Didn’t pull her closer. Didn’t release her and step away.
Because he was there for her? Ready to let her use him?
No. For once she couldn’t let her sister in her head.
If the situation were reversed, if Michael had been hurt and needed support to face a demon down, she’d be right there, standing with him. Waiting to see what he needed from her. Ready and willing to give it.
“I... I have no idea what I’m doing,” she told him. She hated the hat on her head because it itched. But she was afraid to take it off. To let her hair shine in the moonlight.
“I’m thinking about cutting my hair,” she blurted. She’d had the thought earlier in the week. Or...maybe it had been the previous weekend. But it kept occurring. All week long. Every time she’d looked in the mirror at home and seen the bruises on her chest and arms and shoulders.
“It wouldn’t matter in terms of my job,” she said now, standing there linked with Michael beside his car. She was facing the ocean. He had her back. And maybe that was all she had to do. Just be there. Just facing it...whatever it was.
“I always wear a wig.” His feet shifted. She didn’t know if he was watching her, the ocean or the space around them.
