“We have supplies?”

“We have pasta salad—another draw from my limited culinary repertoire— and some marinated chicken breasts—courtesy of CiCi. She says if you don’t know how to grill chicken, Google it.”

“I can do that, and supply the wine.”

He got out the bag as she took a square package out of the other side. He’d seen enough of them now to recognize a wrapped painting.

“What’s that?”

“Your mermaid, as promised. Get me that wine, I’ll unveil her.”

“Hot damn.” He smiled over at her as they started inside—across the porch he’d—with Cecil’s and Mathias’s help—painted orchid. “You must’ve had a really good workday.”

“I did. How about you?”

“Let’s get that wine, then we’ll talk about it.”

He’d started to develop a taste for wine, so he poured two glasses while she unwrapped the painting.

It was maybe eighteen inches square, and full of light. Blue skies blurred pink and gold at the horizon, blue water streaked with those rich tones.

But the mermaid was the star.

She sat on a stand of rocks at water’s edge, her tail a treasure of gleaming blues and greens with touches of iridescent gold. She ran a gold comb through waving masses of red hair, which spilled over bare breasts, back, torso. Her face was turned toward the onlooker.

And that face, he thought, eerily beautiful, exotic, bold green eyes all-knowing, the perfect lips curved in a sensual smile as water sprayed white against the rocks.

“She’s … wow. One sexy mermaid.”

“CiCi framed her—she’s better at that than I’ll ever be. Let’s go put her up.”

“In a minute. First, one more wow, and thanks.” He set the painting down, drew her in for another kiss. Held her an extra moment.

“I think you didn’t have such a good workday.”

“That depends on your perspective. I want to get this said and done so we can put it aside, and just be.” He eased back. “I got another card this morning.”

“Oh God.”

“Wait now. What this tells me is: She’s still hung up on me, and has lost her main focus. She’s letting emotion and personal bitchiness get in the way. She’s given us that trail, Simone, communicating rather than concentrating on evading only. That’s a plus for us.”

“She wants to kill you.”

“She tried once,” he reminded her. “I always knew she’d try again. Now, instead of letting it all lie, then coming at me when I’m unprepared, she’s giving me a trail and a time line. Not just me, but the FBI. Jacoby’s all over this.”

“If you’re trying to placate me—”

“I’m not. She’s one dangerous, crazy, bloodthirsty psychopath. You’re not only on the island, too, you’re with me on the island. She wouldn’t know that second part yet, but she’ll figure it out, and she’ll want both of us. I’m not placating you.”

“That’s clear now.” Simone blew out a breath. “Tell me about the card.”

“This one was a ‘Thinking of You’ deal,” he began, and ran it through, took out his phone, showed her.

“And the lock of hair again,” Simone added. “It’s not McMullen’s, is it? That’s been too long a gap.”

“McMullen, for whatever reasons, hit another category for her.”

“It’s poor Tracey’s, isn’t it?”

“That’s my take. Forensics will confirm.”

“I barely knew her, and only through Mi, but…” She had to take a moment, steady herself. “That link to me, links her to me. It’s harder than the others because of that.”

He brushed a hand over her hair. “I love you. This island’s my home—I even have a dog to prove it. The people who live here, who come here, they’re my responsibility now. I need you to trust me, trust I’ll take care of all of it.”

She thought of the sculpture, the heart of it. She’d created it because she knew who he was. “I do trust you. You’ll make her pay for Tracey and all the others, and that makes it easier. I’m glad you told me first, so we can put it away.”

“Good. Let’s do that. Put this away, and have a normal evening.”

“Normal sounds just right.”

“Okay then.” He scooped her off her feet, heading for the stairs.

“What’s this?”

“This is me, Rhett Butlering you up the stairs and into bed.”

“That’s a normal evening?”

“That’s how I see it.”

He made the turn, dumped her on the bed, dropped down to cover her. “You started it. Driveway kiss. So now I have to finish it.”

Barney, who’d witnessed this behavior before, padded over to his bed with his toy, settled down to wait it out.

“Big talk. Maybe I like to finish what I start.”

“You’ll get the chance.” He lowered his mouth to hers, let the kiss spin and spin and spin out.

Everything she wanted, Simone thought. Too much what she wanted. All these feelings and needs, the weakness and power rising and whirling inside her.

She held on to him and let herself fall.

He undressed her, slowly, piece by piece. No hurry, not when he felt drunk on her already. He glided his hands over bare skin, felt it heat under his touch, trailed his lips over it, felt it quiver.

Time seemed to slow; the air thickened. Every sigh, every murmur, soft as moth wings, floated out and away as they moved together, came together.

He loved everything she was, had been, would be. She loved, he knew, so he could wait for her to look at him, into him, and say the words. Because here and now, she showed him, and no words were needed.

He opened her; she couldn’t explain it. He unlocked things in her she hadn’t known existed, and he held those secret things so carefully.

She ran her hand down his side, over the scars. The Protector, she thought, but who protected him?

I will. She cupped his face, rose up to him. I will.

He slipped inside her, slow, slow, with his eyes on hers.

I will, she thought again, and surrendered.

When she lay beneath him, feeling his heart trip against hers, the beauty flooded her throat with tears.

“I like your version of normal,” she managed.

“I was hoping.” He brushed his lips over the curve of her shoulder. “I could spend a couple lifetimes being normal with you.”

Not yet, she thought. Not yet. “Does normal include dinner?”

“Right after I Google how to grill chicken.” He levered up, looked down at her. “Hey.” Brushed a tear from her lashes.

“They’re the good kind,” she told him. “The very good kind. You make me feel more, Reed. I’m still getting used to it. Let’s do this. You figure out how to do the chicken, and I’ll hang the mermaid. I suspect we’ll both be playing to our strengths.”

“Let’s see if you feel that way after you eat the chicken. The good kind?”

“The very good kind.”

He fed the dog and grilled chicken that was pretty damn okay. He admired the sexy mermaid on the bathroom wall. They took a walk, and he studied the spearing green of his emerging lupines, before they wound through the woods and down to the beach.

They gave each other normal.

He tried tossing the ball for Barney, to no avail. Then Simone picked it up, threw it. Barney trotted after it, snagged it, brought it back.

“Why does he fetch for you?”

“Because he’s a gentleman.”

“Throw it again.”

She obliged with the same results.

“Let me have that thing. Go get it, Barney!” Reed tossed it. Barney stared up at him. “Well, for—”

“Barney.” Simone pointed to the ball. “Get that for me.”

He wagged his tail, raced down the beach, and brought the ball back to her.

“He’s messing with me,” Reed decided. “I can get him to sit. We’ve got about a ninety percent success rate on that. But he gets his head caught in the stair rail a couple times a week. And he’s getting bigger, so it’s not as easy to get him out again.”

They walked on, and he tried a new tactic. Reed tossed the ball back over his shoulder. Barney ran back for it.

“I’ve got his number now.”

With Simone’s hand in his, and his dog trotting along with a red ball, he watched the moon come up over the water.

“Can you stay tonight?”

“I have to leave early. It’s a timing thing, but I can stay.”

He brought her hand to his lips, watched the moon, and thought he couldn’t ask for better normal.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Summer came to the island, and so did the summer people. Day-trippers with their sunscreen and beach blankets, weekenders prepared to pack fun and sun into their two days. Others flooded in to spend a week or two, a month, or the season.

The ferry ran every hour on the hour with cars, bikers, hikers lined up at the dock on both sides of the bay.

Every hour on the hour Reed himself or a team of deputies stood watch.

He’d checked on a scatter of bookings by single females, but none panned out.

He worked every day, on the roll or off, he walked the village, the beaches, cruised by rentals.

Sooner or later, he thought.

*