Chapter Thirteen #2
“You’re too good to me,” Marit said, as she smiled up at him.
She used to find their height difference a touch startling, but she was used to it now.
Loved it. She always felt more feminine when she was around him .
. . which was particularly useful when she had on all her bulky fishing gear.
He also made her feel protected and safe, always tucking her under his arm, putting himself between her and the street.
All in all, this man had quickly become her everything.
She couldn’t imagine life here in Rockville without him in it.
“No such thing,” Zach said, before he leaned down and kissed her long and deep. When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing harder.
“Damn, woman. Suddenly I’m thinking about that evening when you were so worked up, you didn’t even let me get your overalls or boots off completely after work before you insisted I get inside you.”
Marit giggled. She remembered that day clearly.
She was irritated and tired, but horny as hell.
The second she’d walked in, she’d gone to her knees and given Zach one hell of a blow job.
Then he’d picked her up, slammed her onto the table, and removed just enough of her clothes to get inside her.
The experience was hot as hell. And thinking about that fast and dirty sex made Marit want him right now.
“No time,” he said, reading her mind.
He was right. Damn it. “All right, but for the record . . . tonight . . . when I get home . . .” She let her thought trail off.
“Yeah?”
She sighed. “I’m gonna be tired, cold, hungry, and probably grumpy.”
Zach chuckled. “Noted. I’ll have a snack ready for you. Maybe a glass of wine. You can run a bath, and while you’re soaking, I’ll get the lobster ravioli going.”
“Ooooh, sexy,” Marit said with a huge grin.
“Anything for my girl. Now . . . stop stalling and git.”
“I’m going, I’m going.” Marit usually loved what she did for a living.
But today she felt a little out of sorts, and she wasn’t sure why.
The weather was supposed to be good for lobstering, and she and the Sullivans worked together as if they’d done it their whole lives.
Maybe it was the holidays approaching, maybe it was nearing her time of the month .
. . which, now that she thought about it, was late in arriving.
Or maybe it was some kind of sixth sense. Whatever was making her feel out of sorts, she had the sudden thought that she should just climb back into bed and hibernate until spring.
She went up on her tiptoes and Zach met her halfway, kissing her more sedately this time before she headed for the door.
It was still dark as Marit headed for the docks.
Late fall in Maine meant it got dark around four-thirty in the afternoon and stayed that way until around seven in the morning.
But that was fine. It wasn’t a long walk, just enough for her to have a bit of time alone with her thoughts.
Normally, they focused on the coming workday and the tasks that needed to be done.
And thinking of the job inevitably led to thinking of Lucas Pearson . . .
Surprisingly, in the last few weeks the texts from Lucas had all but stopped.
Well . . . surprising until Zach admitted that he’d found out where the man lived, and he’d paid him a visit.
Actually, he and all three of his brothers had shown up on Lucas’s doorstep, and they’d basically told him that if he ever communicated with her again, it had better be respectful . . . except they’d used harsher words.
Britt had told her the whole story. About how Lucas had acted all brash and cocky at first, but then Zach had leaned in and told him that he’d gone to school with the police chief, and their moms were really good friends.
That if he thought he could continue getting away with harassing Marit like he’d been, he was dead wrong.
Which didn’t seem like much of a threat to Marit, but apparently Lucas thought differently.
She supposed it was the delivery of the message that mattered most. She could see Zach in her mind, scowling and delivering the threat, backed up by his three brothers, maybe all standing with their arms crossed and similar scowls on their faces.
It was one thing to bully a five-foot-two woman, quite another to come up against four grown-ass men who’d done time in the military and who were hometown heroes.
Lucas had to know he was outmatched and outnumbered.
Still, she was a little surprised she hadn’t seen much of the man since then.
He’d proved he wasn’t the type to give up easily.
But that confrontation with Zach and his brothers had been a little over a month ago, and while she and the Sullivans saw Lucas at the docks, he didn’t say much to any of them .
. . which was perfectly all right with Marit.
She didn’t let down her guard though. In the back of her mind, she couldn’t help but suspect he might be planning something.
If Lucas was anything like Thorne Deaton, he definitely wouldn’t take kindly to being threatened.
It was only a matter of time before he was back to his old tricks, of that Marit had no doubt.
Doing her best to shake off the funk of a mood she was in, despite the amazing previous evening she’d had with Zach and the delicious breakfast he’d prepared, Marit continued through the quiet, dark streets of Rockville toward the docks.
As she walked through the harbor parking lot next, she frowned.
The lights in the lot were on, but the one on the tall pole at the end of the dock, which led down to where several boats were moored, was out.
She hadn’t been working here for long, so it was possible it was normal for a light to go out occasionally .
. . but the odd feeling she’d had all morning increased.
Marit looked around but saw no one lurking in the shadows. There were a few vehicles in the lot, but those were empty too. She had no reason to feel on edge, and yet she did all the same.
Picking up the pace, she hurried toward the Wave Rider, knowing she’d feel better once she was on board and in a familiar space.
Letting out a small breath of relief as she stepped onto the boat, Marit was completely unprepared for the man who popped up from where he’d been crouched in the small cockpit. The only place anyone could’ve hidden from her view.
She opened her mouth to scream, in the hopes that maybe someone would be walking nearby and hear her, but she didn’t get a sound out before the man rushed her and jammed something into the side of her neck.
It hurt.
That was her first thought.
The second was that she was going to die. That the man had stabbed her, and Eliot and Jonah would find her dead body on the deck of the Wave Rider, where she’d bled out.
The sudden sharp and intense pain of her muscles contracting was like nothing she’d ever felt before.
Marit had no idea what was going on, all she knew was that she had no control over her body whatsoever.
She fell to the deck like a sack of potatoes.
Whatever the man had stuck her with, he kept it against her skin, and her muscles refused to do anything except spasm.
It was as if she had an allover charley horse, and it freaking hurt.
“Fucking bitch!”
The words registered, but barely. She was too busy trying to breathe.
And then it was over. Except every muscle in her body felt like a limp noodle. Marit took a shallow breath and looked up.
Standing over her was Lucas Pearson. Apparently, he hadn’t taken the Young brothers’ words to heart after all. He’d just been stewing in his anger. He obviously knew her routine, the fact she got to the boat before Eliot and Jonah.
And her insistence that she didn’t need an escort to and from the docks had allowed him ample time to make his move.
She had no idea how he’d managed to take out the light at the top of the dock, but she was certain that he was responsible. Probably something as simple as shooting it with a BB gun when no one was around.
Waiting for him to demand she quit, leave town, as he’d done every other time he’d confronted her, Marit prayed he’d say whatever he had to say quickly and then leave.
Except this time, she was going to the cops.
Filing a harassment complaint and charging him with assault.
This had to stop. He’d gone way too far.
But in the back of her mind . . . she knew he wasn’t going to simply stop with tasing her. He had something else in mind.
Something bad.
Lucas continued to stand there and sneer down at her. Just when Marit thought she could actually get her muscles to obey commands from her brain, he moved once more. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bottle of something . . . and a handkerchief.
Marit had a feeling she knew what he was doing.
She grunted as she attempted to roll over and get to her feet, but she’d only managed to get to her hands and knees before Lucas kicked her in the side of the head, knocking her back to the deck once more.
He then dropped down, straddling her chest and putting one hand around her neck, the other over her mouth and nose.
He was holding the bit of cloth he’d pulled out of his pocket and soaked with whatever was in the bottle.
A pungent scent filled her nose, making Marit panic and struggle against his hold. But he was a foot taller than her, and her muscles were still mostly useless from the tasing.
The substance on the cloth was making her woozy. Still, Marit had the crazy thought that whatever he’d used to try to knock her out, it wasn’t working as fast as it did in the movies and on TV.
“Fucking pass out already, bitch,” he growled, as the hand around her throat tightened.
Marit wanted to tell him that he was a complete idiot.
That in order for her to breathe in whatever he’d poured on the cloth, he had to allow her to actually freaking breathe .
. . but she supposed he’d get what he wanted one way or another.
He’d either choke her out, or she’d succumb to whatever drug he was using.
The only consolation she had as the world began to go dark was that he’d said “pass out” .
. . not “die.” If he wanted her alive, he most likely had plans for her.
Plans that wouldn’t be fun, of that she could be certain.
But as soon as Eliot and Jonah arrived, they’d know something was wrong.
They’d call to ask if she was coming to work, and Zach would come running to find out what had happened to her.
The hate she saw in Lucas’s eyes as he glared down at her was familiar. She’d seen it countless times in her own brothers’ gazes as a kid. But this time it was different. She wasn’t on her own.
She had Zach.
She wasn’t going to die. Not when she’d just found him.
Her last thought before passing out was of Zach, and how he wouldn’t stop looking for her. He’d do whatever it took to find her and make Lucas pay for daring to touch one hair on her head.