Chapter 12
“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the diner with me?” Dante asked Marti.
“I’m sure. I had a big breakfast this morning and I’m really not hungry. Besides, I’m enjoying this book and want to finish it.”
“Do you want me to bring you anything back?”
She smiled up at him. “A slice of salted honey pie would be nice.”
“That won’t be a problem,” he said, before leaning down and brushing a kiss across her lips. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I think I’ll get my order to go.”
She chuckled, knowing why he would. “Okay, but I’ll still miss you until you get back.”
He grinned. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
Dante thought about how different the past three weeks had been for him.
Sure, he’d been with his fair share of women.
But he certainly hadn’t spent the majority of his time with one, basically from sunup to sundown.
He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t been living it.
But here he was, spending every moment he could with Marti, and he loved it.
There hadn’t been any more screaming incidents, and so far, she hadn’t shared anything about what had brought that on or why her family thought she was in London.
So he decided to accept what she said until he had a reason to do otherwise.
She no longer showed signs of fear, even when they spent time on Main Street around others.
She seemed comfortable with the people they met and liked having fun.
And he liked her. He liked her a lot.
The one thing he regretted was that she’d be leaving in a little more than a week.
He knew how she felt about committed relationships, and she knew the way he felt, too.
And they had pretty much decided to hook up again next year in Wild Rose Point.
Although neither had spoken those plans out loud, they’d both dropped enough hints.
And honestly, there was no reason they should not, since they would most likely still be single and uncommitted.
So why was he finding this so difficult?
Over the past three weeks, they had discovered how compatible they were. Their ‘Things in Common’ list had grown by leaps and bounds. If he hadn’t known better, he might have wondered if she was his soulmate.
But the bottom line was that he did know better. Besides, he didn’t believe in such things, although he knew for a fact that his father had.
Mario had told him more than once that the reason he would never entertain the thought of remarrying was that LaRosa Messina Avera had been his one and only true love.
His soulmate. Dante believed it. After all, he’d seen women come on to his father more than once.
But although he’d been kind to them, Mario had never taken any of them seriously.
Dante adjusted his aviator sunglasses on his eyes as he drove toward Salty Dog Diner.
He was just about to make a turn onto the road that led to Main Street when a guy on a motorcycle sped past him, headed toward the cove.
The man wasn’t wearing a helmet—something that was against the law in Oregon.
And even more odd was the fact that he was hiding his face behind a mask.
Suddenly, a feeling in the pit of his stomach made Dante slow down. He frowned and wondered about the cause of it. Then he recalled his father’s assertion that he had a sixth sense for detecting trouble or danger. And at that moment, he knew that motorcycle meant trouble.
He quickly made a U-turn, searching for the motorcycle, but didn’t see it anywhere. With a sinking feeling, he knew it had turned onto the private road leading to Lasco Cove. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal as he reached for his phone to call Marti, hoping she had hers with her.
***
Marti closed her book and sighed, basking in the happy ending.
She used to love reading romance novels when she’d been in high school and college, but after the incident with Malcolm and his friends, she couldn’t make herself pick up a book unless it was a thriller.
The only reason she’d relented and read this novel was because it had been left in her hotel room in New York, and she figured she might as well take it.
Now she was glad she had. Although a happy ending would never be hers, other lucky people could have one, people like her sister Kara and her parents.
They truly loved the people they had married, and she was incredibly happy for them.
She just wasn’t willing to reach for that kind of love again.
She gazed out at the ocean. It was hard to believe that in less than ten days she would be leaving Wild Rose Point.
She would miss this place. And she’d miss spending time on the beach, relaxing on Dante’s furniture.
It was their private oasis. Sometimes she would come out and enjoy some time alone, reading, listening to music, or just chilling.
And other times, he’d join her…and rock her world.
They’d had two more beach date nights since the first one, and she loved each and every one of them.
She shifted her gaze to the huge boat docked nearby. Dante had rented it again, promising her another day of fishing. She had rather liked it once she got past the part of putting shrimp on her hook. And since he always cleaned whatever fish they caught and cooked it, she was all in.
Leaning back against the soft cushions of the lounger, she was about to close her eyes and take a nap when her cell phone rang.
She recognized the caller--Dante. She dug her cell phone out of her tote bag.
He was probably calling to make sure she hadn’t changed her mind about wanting anything from the diner.
Or he could be calling because he already missed her. She smiled at the thought of that.
“Yes, Dante?”
“Listen, Marti. I want you to go to my place immediately and lock the door. I am on my way back.”
She suddenly felt knots in her stomach. “Why? What’s wrong?”
“Just do it. Now!”
At the tone of his voice, she got up and grabbed her tote bag.
Just then, she heard a roaring rumble. Marti glanced up the beach and saw a motorcycle speeding up the lane.
Lasco Cove was a private community. Was that why Dante had called to warn her?
She quickly took off, running at breakneck speed to Dante’s house when it became clear that the motorcyclist was a threat.
Because as soon as he saw her, he sped up, racing toward her as if he intended to run her over.
***
Dante turned into Lasco Cove and saw what was happening.
Marti was running, and the motorcycle was right on her heels.
Suddenly, she tripped over something and fell onto the sand.
Dante’s heart nearly stopped when the motorcycle accelerated.
Just as the cyclist was about to hit her, a huge white bird flew down from the sky.
Edgar.
The seagull spread its wings and went straight for the cyclist’s head. Surprised by the attack, the man made a sharp turn in the sand and was thrown from the bike just before it overturned.
The man got to his feet, then pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and aimed it at Edgar, as if he believed that the bird was the bigger threat at that moment.
Before he could fire the first shot, Dante was out of his truck and tackling the man to the ground.
He wrestled the gun from the man’s hand and tossed it away in the sand.
The man put up a good fight, but he didn’t stand a chance against Dante.
Using martial arts, Dante kicked the man’s legs from underneath him, and before the guy fell to his knees, he sent another kick to the man’s shoulder.
He heard the satisfying snap, which meant he’d dislocated the guy’s shoulder.
Ignoring the man’s loud, painful howl, he let loose a spinning drop kick to the guy’s head, knocking him out cold. The man fell face down into the sand.
Picking up the man’s gun, Dante looked at it.
A Glock…with the silencer attached. The bastard probably thought it was his lucky day, finding Marti outside on the beach and not inside her home.
Rage filled Dante when he realized the man had intended to kill her.
Knowing the kick he had given the man would keep him unconscious for a while, he raced over to Marti.
“Are you alright?” he asked, sweeping her out of the sand and into his arms.
Instead of answering, she placed her face into his neck and nodded. He felt her trembling all over as he headed toward his house. He stopped at the door and placed her on her feet. “Can you walk?”
“Yes. I tripped over a piece of driftwood.”
She was covered in sand. Some was even in her hair. “Take a shower. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“Do you want me to call the police, Dante?”
“No. Don’t call anyone. I’ll handle this. But I do want some answers from you, Marti. We’ll talk after your shower.”
“Okay,” she said softly, almost sounding defeated. She was trembling.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Marti.
Trust me,” he said, gently stroking her cheek and letting his hands roam over her.
He needed to touch her to make sure she was okay.
He had come so close to losing her. He’d practically died inside when he saw the motorcyclist turn his bike in Marti’s direction. And it was one damn big Harley.
“I do trust you, Dante. How did you know to warn me about that guy?”
“I had a gut feeling when I passed him on the road and saw him headed toward here.”
“You saved my life again.”
“Edgar played a part, too,” Dante said.
She nodded. “Yes, he sure did.”
He opened the door. “Now go inside and lock the door behind you. I have my key.”
She went inside, and he didn’t move until he heard the lock click in place. He glanced around, reached down, and grabbed the rope he had placed there yesterday.
Dante headed back toward the beach. Edgar was circling around the man who was still sprawled out, face down in the sand, as if daring him to regain consciousness so he could attack him again.
Dante decided he’d tie this guy up and put him in the shed.
After his conversation with Marti, he would decide what he would do with him.
***
After showering and washing her hair, Marti paced Dante’s living room, waiting for him.
She was glad she had left some of her clothes here so she didn’t have to wear one of his t-shirts.
Glancing out the window, she couldn’t see anything--not Dante, the motorcyclist, or the bike.
Still, she knew he was around somewhere, since his truck was parked outside.
Checking her watch, she saw that half an hour had passed. So where was he?
She’d never felt so much fear. Especially when she saw Dante barely stop his truck before jumping out to attack the man.
A man who had a gun. As if that had meant nothing to him, Dante lit into him, demonstrating his impressive—and lethal--skills as a fighter.
She doubted the motorcyclist had counted on that.
Suddenly, the front door opened, and he walked in. “I need to shower before we talk, Marti. Will you make me a cup of coffee?”
He only drank coffee in the mornings. This quiet change in their routine scared her even more than she already was. “Yes.”
Both his features and the tone of his voice held no expression. Because he had come back, she doubted he had made it to the diner. “Do you want anything with your coffee?” she asked.
“Yes. I think I have some leftover banana-nut muffins from dinner at Tangiers yesterday. Let’s have those. And we’ll sit in the kitchen instead of on the screened patio.
“Alright.”
Before heading for the stairs, he asked. “Do you know that guy?”
She shook her head. “No. I’ve never seen him before.”
He nodded. “Do you know why he wanted to kill you?”
His question landed like a hard blow. After a sharp gasp, she nervously bit her lip before saying. “I have an idea.”
He didn’t say anything for a minute and then turned and went upstairs.