Chapter 2
“Mom, I don’t mind.” Maren Cordelia glanced in the rearview mirror. The same asshole had been riding her bumper for the last five minutes. She put on her blinker and moved to the left lane.
“What about your job, dear?”
Maren’s heart lurched to the center of her throat. No way could she tell her mother that she’d quit. Five years ago, she’d made a huge fuss about not wanting to stay and work in the family business and ran off for the hustle and bustle of New York City to be a chief risk officer on Wall Street.
Of course, that also had to do with the jerk of a boyfriend she’d followed from her hometown of Jacksonville, Florida, to the Big Apple. What a mistake that had been.
“I told you, I’ve got a few weeks of vacation time built up. I’m happy to come home and help you figure this out.”
“What about Tom? Why isn’t he coming down with you?”
“He’s got too much going on right now.” She knew she’d eventually have to tell her mother the truth. However, her top priority was convincing her mom to sell the marina and not take on an investor who seemed too good to be anything other than a con artist. Once she did that, she could tell her mother about the breakup and her job.
“I could have just sent you all the paperwork. I do know how to scan and use email. I’m even doing Instagram and Facebook right on my phone. I might even give TikTok a try.”
Her mother had fought technology until the love of her life had died. Maren had hooked her up with accounts and found many of her old high school friends and family members, giving her mother a way to communicate and do something other than crying.
Now, Maren almost wished she’d never helped her mother set all that up because she was always posting, all day long.
“I want to meet this person and discuss the details. Make sure it’s the right decision for you.” Maren veered toward the exit ramp, her GPS indicating she was fifteen minutes from the marina, which she knew, so why she had the damn thing on, she had no idea.
“I see. Well, you walked away from this marina and your heritage. I don’t need your permission to bring on a partner.” Her mother’s voice took on that tone of indignation that Maren hated.
“Mom. I’m just trying to help. You do remember what happened to Mrs. Baxter, right?”
“Are you trying to lump me in with that old loon? Not only is she crazy, but she’s not the smartest woman either. I would never fall for a scam like that. I’m insulted.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.” Even if Maren had said it differently, her mother would have taken it ass-backward. She always did, especially lately. “Besides, I haven’t been home since Daddy died and that was two years ago. I miss you, Mom.”
A long sigh echoed over the speaker. “I miss you too, little one. I don’t like the way things have been between us lately.”
“Neither do I,” Maren said. “Please understand that I’m only trying to do what Daddy would have expected of me.”
“I know, little one. When will you be here? I’ve got fresh cookies with your name on them. Though I do have to save some for that cute Aegis Network agent I told you about. He’s back from a recent mission and has a few days off. Maybe you’ll finally get to meet him.”
Maren rolled her eyes. Her mom had never liked Tom. Not even when he’d been sweet and kind. God, she’d been a fool. He’d been cheating on her the entire time, and she’d been too stupid to see it. Tom had swept her off her feet and made her feel special. He bought her gifts all the time. Little did she know they were guilt presents for every time he was with another woman.
It had been six months since she’d told Tom to take his cheating ways somewhere else. And he’d sent her a dozen roses every Friday for the last six months. Every Monday, he’d send her tulips. On Wednesday, he’d call and leave a message.
With every note, voicemail, or text, he’d tell her how sorry he was, how he’d never do it again, and how much he loved her.
And every Saturday, someone would snap a picture of her ex-boyfriend with a bimbo on his arm at some club or sucking face with some chick. The one time she answered his call, telling him she’d seen him out on the town, flaunting his latest flame, his comment had been, “I was fixed up. I didn’t want to go, but babe, if you came back to me, then all of that would stop.”
Yeah, right.
Now she’d have to listen to her mother tell her I told you so, and oh, let me fix you up with Arthur. He’s ex-military and he’s a stand-up guy. Well, no, thank you. Maren wasn’t having anything to do with men for a long while. She didn’t care about their background or who spoke up for their character.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” Maren said. “Love you, Mom.” She tapped the end button on the phone and cranked up the tunes. Even if she did want to start dating again, it would never be a military man. Not even one who’d left the military. She’d done that once, and she swore she’d never do it again. Those types of men were too rigid. Too set in their ways. And they tended to live off adrenaline rushes, and she preferred a quiet evening in front of the fire with a glass of wine.
Then again, she thought New York would be her special place, but she’d hated it the moment she set foot in the city. She knew it would be different from her sleepy seaside town outside of Jacksonville, and she had looked forward to the hustle and bustle of the big city. She had dreamed of living there since she could remember but it hadn’t been anything as she had expected. She felt invisible. She would step out of her apartment, into the sea of people, and disappear. No one looked you in the eye. No one said hello. She was a cog in a big machine she didn’t even understand. She was lost and alone, and Tom did nothing to help her fit in. If anything, he made her feel more like an outsider.
She rolled to a stop at the corner of Garner and Endicott, about five miles from the marina, and decided to pull into Mr. O’Leary’s Bait and Tackle shop where you could also get the best damn homemade ice cream known to man.
She parked her car between two pickups. Tom would have had gone ballistic, all worried her doors would get dented. As much as she hated to admit it, sitting between a white truck and a dark-blue one, she sort of worried about her compact car getting a nick or two.
The store hadn’t changed one bit over the years. Same white sign that read Welcome to O’Leary’s Bait and Tackle hung proudly over the front door, which sported that gross pastel-blue color that stuck out like a sore thumb. The bell over the door dinged as she entered. To the left was the tackle shop and to the right, the entryway to pure fat heaven.
God, she missed this quaint little town.
Jacksonville itself could be considered a big city, by Florida standards. It had a Naval and Air Force Base. There was a fair amount of traffic, especially by the beaches, including her family”s marina. But these little local hidden gems made that all worth the minor hassles of dealing with dozens of red lights and tons of vehicles. And it was nothing like New York City. That place was awful.
“Well, looky what the manatee dragged in,” Shea O’Leary said. She’d been a year younger than Maren, but they bonded over having to work for their family’s businesses. They’d discussed leaving town many nights over a cold Corona, swearing they’d never take over for their parents. Many local children wanted the hell out. They wanted to see the world. Go to places they’d never been instead of being stuck doing the same thing their parents and grandparents had done.
This was especially true when so many businesses were seasonal or relied heavily on tourism, the few snowbirds who came to northern Florida, or the military families who were in and out.
“Long time no see.” Maren took her old friend in a warm embrace, and they held each other for a good minute. “I have to say, I’m a little surprised to see you here. Last I heard, you were living in Georgia.”
“That didn’t last very long,” Shea said. “I moved back about a year ago.” She let out a short laugh. “I own this place now, but my folks won’t fully retire, nor will they stop telling me what to do.”
“Hence the blue and orange décor hasn’t changed.”
“Oh, that will change when they visit my uncle in two weeks. When they come back, this place will look entirely different.”
“Thank God.” When Maren and Shea were kids, they constantly talked about how ugly the typical Florida colors were and how all the places around here needed an update.
“What brings you back to town?” Shea asked as she moved behind the counter, opening the lid on the ice cream cabinet and pointing to the double chocolate chip.
Maren nodded, her mouth watering in anticipation. “Some guy named Hudson Nally wants to become partners with my mother, and it worries me.”
“I’ve heard of him.” Shea piled the ice cream into a sugar cone. “He’s making offers like that up and down the shoreline.”
“What do you think about him?”
Shea shrugged. “He came in here, and I didn’t let him give me his pitch, so I have no opinion, but Lester Holt, I think, is taking him up on his offer.”
“Mother’s is still in business?” Everyone in this area avoided Mother’s. Besides attracting undesirables of all kinds, the food and service had been horrible. Of course, there had always been rumors that the back room was used for sex for hire by the waitresses. To her knowledge, no one had ever been busted.
“I think they are on the verge of bankruptcy, so I have no idea why anyone would want to invest in them.”
Maren could think of a few reasons, the first one being Mother’s sat on a prime real estate location and in this town, location was everything.
“Hey, do you mind?” a male voice boomed across the room. “I’m in a hurry here.”
“I’ll be right with you.” Shea handed Maren the ice cream cone and leaned in. “This guy comes here every day. He’s always in a hurry and can be a bit terse if there’s a line, but don’t you think he’s hot?”
Maren glanced over her shoulder. The man was a tad older and had a buzzcut, but she couldn’t deny the gentleman had swagger.
“If he ever comes in here in a halfway decent mood, I’m going to ask him out,” Shea whispered.
“I’m a paying customer, not some old girlfriend to gossip with,” the man said with an arched brow and a half-cocked smile.
Maren leaned against the counter, enjoying the calories that would go straight to her hips, watching Shea deal with the not-so-angry customer who lamely attempted to flirt.
Shea had long blond hair, almond-colored eyes, and a body that looked like it belonged on the cover of a surfer magazine. Shea had always turned heads. And this guy was no exception. His frustration wasn’t that he was in a hurry, but that he wanted his five minutes with Shea.
The man said thank you and headed out the door just as another gentleman approached the counter.
Maren could only see his backside, and oh, did this one have a nice ass, with his jeans hanging loose and low on his hips.
And he sported flip-flops. For whatever reason, she loved that look on a man.
He turned and she swallowed her breath. This man was stunningly gorgeous.
“I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you later.” Maren waved, trying not to eye the man candy at the counter with his short dark hair and tanned complexion.
He smiled at her, catching her gaze momentarily before staring at the fishing lure he held. While she didn’t want a man in her life right now, she’d allow herself to look.
Once out of the parking lot, she headed back down Endicott, following the customer who had caught Shea’s eye. A lightness had come over her the second she’d walked into O’Leary’s and seen Shea. The four years she’d spent in college, she really didn’t miss this place, simply because she came home every holiday and for the summers. And really, she wanted to experience something else. To see the world. To know something other than seaside life.
However, she’d been homesick for the last few years.
She tapped her brakes, noting the red light in front of her, but the second it turned green, the truck in front of her squealed its tires and took off into the intersection. Shaking her head, she gave her little car a bit more gas and pushed forward.
Glancing toward the left, she saw the hood of another car just as it slammed into her door, jerking her body. A sharp pain ripped through her head as something smacked her face, and the world faded to black…
Arthur glanced over his shoulder at a grumpy gentleman trying to flirt with Shea. It was pathetic. Horrible. He wanted to step in and perform an intervention. Or ask Shea out for the poor man, but it wasn’t his place. Besides, women only served to give him a headache. There were only two things that he desired to do these days.
Work and fish.
Today was all about the latter. Three days of nothing but him, his boat, the ocean, the salty air, a case of beer, a bag of chips, and hopefully a few fish.
Arthur’s phone vibrated. He pulled it out and frowned at a text from an old buddy who worked for a similar outfit in Fool’s Gold, Colorado.
Darius: The trail went cold.
Arthur: How cold?
Darius: Freezing. But I’ll keep looking.
Arthur: Thanks.
The man breezed past him, heading out the door. At least he smiled.
“I’ve got to get going,” a female voice said.
Arthur glanced over his shoulder at the sexy lady who embraced Shea.
His breath left him like a vacuum sucking up crumbs, deflating his lungs. Her eyes were the color of dark chocolate. He’d never seen such richness before. Her long dark hair flowed over her naturally tanned skin. She was the most intoxicating woman he’d ever seen. He blinked, trying desperately to rip his gaze from her, but he couldn’t.
He forced himself to turn his attention to some fishing gear. One dead girlfriend and one ex-wife had been more than enough misery for him. He’d sworn off relationships and for the time being, women in general.
“Thirty-two ninety-nine,” Shea said. He looked up at her, still reeling from having his socks blown off.
Didn’t matter. He had no time for a woman in his life, and if he was going to make time for anything, it would be a dog, but with his schedule at the fire station and his missions with the Aegis Network, he’d have to settle for taking Mrs. Cordelia’s lab fishing with him.
He handed Shea thirty-three dollars.
“Need help with the ice?”
“I’m good.” He picked up his beer, chips, and lure, then headed out the door, eyeing the sexy woman as she backed her car from the parking spot. He’d seen many good-looking women over the years, but none had made his brain turn to mush.
He sighed, tossing the ice into the cooler. He’d deal with the beer when he got to the marina. Punching the gas harder than necessary, he pulled out onto the street, telling himself he wasn’t trying to catch up to the woman in the little car. Why would he do that? What was he going to do? Follow her?
He laughed.
Besides, the light ahead had turned green, and he would not make it through with how far away she was, not even if he had put the pedal to the metal. He tossed his hand over the passenger seat headrest when the sound of tires squealing caught his attention.
Crash!
“Fuck,” he muttered, gunning his vehicle, gripping the steering wheel with both hands.
The compact car spun out of control as a four-door sedan smashed into the driver’s side. The only thing that stopped the car had been a tree at the corner of the intersection, and the second it hit the wood, the engine ignited.
“Siri, call 9-1-1,” he said calmly, though his heart thumped like a jackhammer in his chest. He needed to get the girl out of the car before it exploded.
The sedan raced off down the street. About a half mile before the accident, another truck made a quick U-turn. A light on the dash flashed.
Arthur gave the emergency operator his fire station information along with the location of the accident just as he slammed his vehicle into park.
Mr. Oblivious-to-Flirting quickly stopped, holding out what appeared to be a police badge.
“I’m a fireman,” Arthur yelled, grabbing the fire extinguisher from the back of his truck.
“Local policeman. I called it in, and the local fire trucks are five minutes out. Ten tops. If you’ve got this, I’m going after that asshole.”
“Go.” Arthur nodded as he approached the car. Thus far, the fire was contained to the hood, but the car would go up like an IED if it got near the gas line.
He engaged the extinguisher, giving the front of the car a good dousing before racing to the driver’s side, which had been mangled and pushed in a good foot.
He cringed, seeing the woman’s body slumped over, the seat belt catching her body.
“Ma’am,” he called through the broken glass. He reached in, carefully touching the side of her neck in search of a pulse. His fingers immediately found a strong one.
Thank God.
But there was no way he was getting her out of the car through this door. He leaned in. “Ma’am,” he repeated as he assessed the situation. Blood dripped down her legs, but the bigger problem was the smell of gas. It pierced through his nostrils. He could taste it in the back of his throat. He glanced to the car”s rear and saw the liquid pooling on the pavement.
He doused the front of the car and the leak, then jogged around to the passenger side, yanking the door open.
Time wasn’t on his side.
Story of his fucking life.
The metal screeched and only opened a few inches. He gritted his teeth and yanked again; the door kicked open this time. He leaned in, feeling her legs, making sure that nothing sharp had jabbed into her, which would prevent him from pulling her from the vehicle.
Next, he felt his way up her body and arms, checking for broken bones or any other injuries he could detect from the outside.
A spark on the car”s hood flashed, shooting a small flame in the air.
“Ma’am? Can you hear me?”
A faint moan, but that was it.
Another crackle of flames.
He lifted his head, straining to hear sirens, but got nothing.
“I’ve got to get you out of this car,” he said as he undid the seat belt, holding her body upright. He needed to do this with as little movement to her current body position as possible, just in case her injuries were more serious than they appeared.
But that all changed when a trickle of flame moved across the driver’s side of the car.
He turned her body, resting her back on his chest, and carefully but quickly pulled her petite body up and over the center console, watching her legs, praying he wasn’t inflicting any more damage.
The smoke turned a thick gray-black.
Time was running out.
Leaning over her, he put one arm under her knees and the other circled her back as he lifted her from the seat, stepping backward, cradling her against his chest.
She moaned as he moved away from the car and went across the street to a grassy patch, where he laid her down gently.
Boom!
He covered her body with his as the car exploded, sending debris and tires flying across the road. The few people gathered across the street gasped and screamed but were out of harm’s way.
Sirens echoed off in the distance.
Arthur checked the young woman for any external injuries he could treat. He found a few gashes on her legs that he cleaned. One was deep enough that it would need stitches. Her beautiful face was swollen and bruised from the impact of the airbag.
She groaned, her head rolling to the side.
“Ma’am,” he said, cupping her face, worrying about a neck injury. “Can you hear me?”
“What?” Her eyelids fluttered open. “What happened?” She tilted her head and groaned.
“Don’t move. You were in a car accident.”
“Oh…” she whispered.
An ambulance pulled up behind the first fire truck. Two paramedics jumped out.
“Hey, Arthur,” a man he recognized from another station said. “We’ll take it from here.”
Arthur stepped to the side, giving the paramedics room to work, when he heard a woman screaming and running down the road.
“Maren!”
It was the owner of O’Leary’s. He jogged toward her, stopping her before she crossed the street.
“You need to give them room,” he said, holding on to Shea’s arms. “She’s conscious, but I don’t know the extent of her injuries.”
“I have to get ahold of her mother.” The woman wrapped her arms around her middle. “I need to be with Maren.”
“I can call her mother if you’d like to ride with her to the hospital.”
“You don’t mind?”
“Sure. Just tell me who to contact.”
“Gretchen Cordelia.”
He blinked. “That’s Maren Cordelia?” His stomach knotted. He’d spent many hours helping Mrs. Cordelia with minor projects around the marina, listening to stories about her daughter and how she wished she’d come home. That the life she chased in New York was not the right life for her. He could understand her wanting her daughter to take over the family business as much as his father had wanted him to be an insurance salesman. Still, after he lost his high school sweetheart and her entire family to a house fire, his fate had been sealed.
She nodded. “What happened?”
“She was T-boned.” He left out that it was also a hit-and-run. “Come on.” He took her by the elbow and guided her across the street as the first responders lifted Maren onto a gurney. “Hey, guys. This is Shea. She’s a friend of Maren’s. She’d like to ride with her to the hospital. I’m going to call her mom so she can meet her there.”
“Thanks, Arthur,” the paramedic said. “Local police are a couple of minutes out. They’re going to want to chat with you.”
“I’ll wait around.” Arthur locked gazes with Maren. “You’re going to be okay.”
“Thank you,” Maren whispered. “Shea?”
“I’m right here.” Shea took Maren’s hand. “I got you.”
Arthur watched as the paramedics lifted Maren into the back of the ambulance. He swallowed, remembering all those he couldn’t save, thankful he might have saved her.