Chapter 8
Arthur sat on the front steps, sipping his coffee and rubbing the back of Shasta’s ears. If he’d gotten three hours of sleep, it would have been a miracle. But a hot shower and a little caffeine would be all that he needed to stay alert. Besides, having most of the crew on the marina grounds would give him a chance to power nap if he needed.
Nally had called first thing and Gretchen had given him the bad news, which he didn’t really accept, constantly pushing her to reconsider. The conversation ended with Nally saying he’d stop by at some point today to discuss the matter.
Something Arthur didn’t want to happen at all, but Rusty thought it might help them get something on him, or get a positive ID on Santoro being Hernandez, because as Rusty put it, “Just because they look like they could be the same person, doesn’t mean they are.” Not to mention, Santoro had a valid driver’s license and social security number.
Didn’t mean he was who he pretended to be, but it made it more difficult to call him out.
The door behind him rattled. Shasta yelped and her tail thumped back and forth.
“Good morning,” Maren said, sitting down, keeping Shasta between them. Last night, she’d gone up to bed before he’d even come back inside from getting his bag. He texted her, asking if they could talk. She responded with ‘in the morning.’ “How was the sofa?”
“Much better than a cargo hold of a C-130, thank you.”
Shasta rested her snout on Maren’s leg, and Arthur refused to stop scratching the dog’s head. This was about as close to Maren as he figured she’d allow.
“I’m afraid,” she said, staring off toward the Intracoastal. “And there isn’t much that scares me.”
“I’m honestly fearful of these people myself. Over the years, I’ve seen the devastation they’ve left behind as they destroy lives and tear apart families.”
“Besides fishing, is chasing after your late girlfriend’s killers how you pass the time?”
He swallowed. So, she thought he was still holding on to the memory of Sarah in such a way that it hadn’t let him move forward. Sometimes he could be such an asshole. “When she first died, we had no idea they’d been murdered or that her family had been in business with Ferro. It took about a year before all that unraveled and made the news.”
“And you’ve made it your life’s journey to bring her killers to justice. I get it.”
He shook his head. “No, you don’t.” He pulled out his phone and brought up the dreaded Facebook app. The only pictures of him on the internet were on his ex-wife’s page, which he’d often asked her not to post his picture, and that was probably another of the many reasons their marriage only lasted a little over two years.
“I don’t need to see pictures of your late girlfriend and her family. Really, Arthur, I understand. I can’t imagine?—”
“Would you just be quiet for one minute?”
“When you stop being an asshole, maybe.” She let out a long breath. “Listen. I can’t stand being told what to do or how to act. It makes me nuts. Compound it with a man who acts like I’m not capable of taking care of myself, and it makes?—”
“Seriously? That’s what you think I’ve been doing?”
“Um, yeah?” She jerked her head. “Anyone ever tell you that you can be a controlling prick?”
He chuckled. “Once or twice. And I’m sorry. But has anyone ever told you that you’re stubborn, pigheaded, and don’t listen?”
“Once or twice,” she mumbled.
“I honestly don’t mean to be so controlling, except maybe when I’m trying to save your life or make a point.” He found the picture from his wedding day and practically shoved his phone in her face.
“You’re married?” She grabbed the phone, gawking between the screen and him. “Wow. Before, I just thought you were kind of sad with your heart wrapped up in your late girlfriend, but now all I see is a two-timing jerk and a?—”
“Oh my God.” He smacked his head. “Seriously, stop talking and let me finish.” He snagged the phone and returned to his ex’s profile page, holding a new image up. “I’m divorced and she’s already remarried. You really need to stop jumping to conclusions about me, which is funny because that’s what you accused me of doing with the scumbags that are hell-bent on causing you bodily harm.”
She snapped her mouth closed, staring at him. He took the opportunity to continue talking while the cat still held her tongue.
“I loved Sarah as much as any pimply-faced seventeen-year-old boy could. I probably cried every day over her death for a good year, and her death did push me into my profession, though I had always wanted to be a fireman since I was a little kid.” He took a quick breath. “When it came out what had happened, I turned to someone I’d met through a mutual friend. He was in the Army and now works for an outfit like the Aegis Network. We’ve been trying to find whatever we can to give to the authorities to bring down Ferro. I want to help bring a sense of peace to her grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and other families affected by the shitty-ass things Ferro has done, but it’s not something that has completely taken over my life until they showed up here, messing with people I care about.”
Her gaze never wavered from his as she sat quietly.
He blinked.
“Are you done?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m done.”
“Can I ask a question without you getting mad at me?”
“I can’t promise that,” he said.
“Fair enough.” She nodded. “Why’d you get divorced? Was it because of your pursuit for justice?”
“That’s one of a million reasons my ex-wife gave for finally putting us both out of our misery. Mostly, it’s hard being in the military and being married, and she wanted me to retire. I wasn’t ready at the time. And frankly, I don’t take kindly to ultimatums. She thought she could change me, and I thought she’d accept that I’m not the kind of guy who wants to go to parties every weekend. And she really wanted me to give up fishing.”
“Well, that right there is way too much to ask.” Maren smiled.
He let out a small laugh.
“Look. I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions about your late girlfriend and even your ex-wife. I’m also sorry that I got in your face last night, arguing with you about those men and their intentions. It’s your delivery. You can be aggressive. It reminds me of someone I used to be with and I won’t ever get involved with someone like that again.”
He arched a brow. “Do you regret being with me last night?”
“I regret getting caught by my mother.”
“Almost getting caught,” he corrected.
“No. We got caught. My mother saw you kick my bra under the chair. Real smooth, Arthur.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. “And here, your mother thought I was such a gentleman.”
Maren rested her hand on Arthur’s forearm. “I’m really scared about what is happening, but I’m also a little terrified of you.”
“Me? Why?” That wasn’t what he expected to hear.
“I tossed and turned half the night, thinking about texting you to come upstairs.”
“That wouldn’t have been a good idea.”
“Especially with my mother in the next room, but I wouldn’t have kicked you out and that bothers me.”
“Not something a man wants to hear from the woman he just had sex with.”
“I don’t know how to reconcile what I’m feeling with what is now honest-to-goodness fear for mine and my mother’s life. I find myself relying on you, but you can be so controlling and I just got out of a relationship with a control freak who cheated on me, so I don’t want a repeat of history.”
Ouch. That hurt.
He nodded. “I’ve been gun-shy since my divorce when it comes to women, so to be totally up front, I’m a little freaked out myself by how quickly we ended up in bed.” He reached his hand out, pushing her hair off her shoulder and gliding his hand across the back of her neck. “But I don’t for one second regret it, and I plan on it happening again.”
She opened her mouth, but he kept her from saying anything by slipping his tongue between her lips and swirling it with hers in a promissory dance of pleasure.
Shasta barked, sitting up, forcing the kiss to end long before Arthur wanted it to.
“What is it, girl?” He patted the dog’s head as the sound of loose gravel being crunched by tires stole his attention.
A limo rolled to a stop in the middle of the parking lot.
“Know any boaters that would show up in a ride like that?” he asked. “Besides Rex?”
“We’ve had a few.”
He kept his hand on the back of Maren’s neck, rubbing his thumb in a circle at the base of her head.
She stretched her leg out as if to stand.
He squeezed her shoulder. “You’re staying right here.”
“You’ve got to stop being so controlling if you ever want to get back in my bed.”
He chuckled. “Being protective is my nature. It’s not controlling who you are. And we’ll be together again, regardless.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Yep.”
The driver stepped from the vehicle and opened the rear door.
Arthur found himself holding his breath, waiting to see who would appear from the back seat.
He didn’t have to wait long as a tall, broad man with dark features appeared. Arthur’s lungs deflated in a rush as if someone had poked them with a sharp object.
“Fuck,” he muttered.
“What?” Maren asked.
“That’s him.”
“Him who?”
Arthur turned to look at Maren. “That’s Ferro.”