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CHAPTER1
Stirred from his nap by a sudden chill, Nick Vincelli opened his eyes and spied gray clouds blotting out the sun. Sitting up and glancing at his watch, he discovered he’d been dozing on the sand for almost an hour. When he’d run into the water for his daily swim the weather had been hot and sunny. After pushing himself to exhaustion, he’d dragged his weary body back to the sand and collapsed on his large beach towel. But now gentle waves had become choppy whitecaps, and ominous dark clouds loomed overhead.
Rising to his feet, he was about to head up to his beach house when a woman in the rough surf caught his attention. She was trying to swim parallel to the shore and she appeared to be having trouble. With conditions worsening and no lifeguards on the desolate beach, he picked up his towel and walked hastily to the water’s edge. But just as he was about to run in to offer help, she suddenly stopped, stared back down the beach, then abruptly ducked beneath the waves.
Darting his eyes around, Nick spied a heavy-set man dressed in a bright yellow shirt hurrying from an impressive home. As the man paused to peer through binoculars, Nick noticed a pot belly hanging over a pair of ill-fitting white shorts. He grinned. The man resembled an oversized canary, but when he abruptly lowered the field glasses and started yelling, Nick’s pulse ticked up.
Quickly turning his attention back to the woman, he found her frantically fighting her way through the rough surf toward him, and he was startled to see her wearing only a pair of shorts and a bra. The man was still yelling, and as he watched him march in his direction, Nick realized she must have bolted away before she could grab a top. A private detective, Nick knew domestic violence was fraught with danger. Emotions ran high, and people were unpredictable.
“Please, please,” the woman called, her voice desperate and breathless as she splashed through the shallow water toward him, “you have to help me. I must get away from that man!”
Her long, wet dark hair falling around her face accentuated her high cheekbones, almond-shaped deep green eyes, and full, pouty lips.
“Please, you have to help me,” she repeated, staggering up to him.
“I think you’d better tell me what’s going on,” he replied, quickly wrapping his towel around her shivering body.
“There’s n-no t-time,” she stammered with chattering teeth. “You d-don’t understand.”
“You’re right, I don’t. Give me something, anything.”
“I will, I p-promise, just g-get m-me out of here.”
“You there!” the man bellowed. “Police. Hold her.”
Jerking his head around, Nick saw him awkwardly striding toward them holding up an open wallet, as his bright yellow shirt flapped in the wind.
“Is he a cop?” Nick demanded, quickly turning back to her. “Yes or no?”
“Yes, b-but he’s a c-crook. P-Please, I’m b-begging you. “
“Stay here,” Nick ordered, instinctively believing her. “Don’t run, don’t do anything, just stay here.”
“B-but he’s d-dangerous. I’m s-scared.”
“I know, but you can’t run,” Nick said again, leaning forward and staring at her intently. “If you want my help, you need to stay put.”
“Ok-kay.”
Pivoting in the sand, he walked up to meet the overweight man, but as they drew closer Nick narrowed his eyes. With a flattened nose and a scar across his right eyebrow, the alleged cop looked more like a thug who had lost one too many fights.
“Nick Vincelli,” Nick said, studying the man’s grizzled, unattractive face.
“Detective Matteus Anderson,” the stranger exclaimed as he charged forward, “and I have no time for conversation.”
“Wait,” Nick said firmly, quickly stepping in front of him to block his path, “she’s scared to death.”
“Yeah, well, for good reason,” the cop gruffly retorted, pausing his step. “Tell me your name again.”
“Nick Vincelli.”
“Nick Vincelli,” the man repeated as if memorizing it. “Okay, Nick, you can call me Matt. Now as I was saying—”
“Sorry to interrupt,” Nick said hastily, “but if she’s under arrest, why isn’t she at the police station? And the house you’re in, I know the owners. It’s about to be put on the market. None of this makes any sense.”
“Hey, I don’t have to tell you shit,” the man growled.
“No, you don’t, but after you leave, I’ll be jogging back to my house and calling the local station. I have a few friends there.”
