Caught in the Surf (3 page)

He guided her in silence through a pitch-black section of jungle. She sensed trees on either side, heard the palm leaves swaying in the wind, but couldn’t see anything whatsoever.

“Path dips a bit up ahead. Watch your step, darlin’.” His voice was an intimate growl in her ear.
 

She still couldn’t figure out his accent. “Where are you from, Casey?” The question slipped out before she could stop it.

He laughed. “I ain’t from anywhere in particular. I been all over. Told you that.”

“You don’t like to answer questions, do you?” Lani said, exasperation bleeding into her words.

“Nope.”

“I meant your accent. It’s strange. I can’t place it.”

He laughed. “Oh. That. I was born in Texas, lived there till I graduated high school. I also spent a good long of time in Ireland, so I picked up a bit o’ that, too.”

“That makes sense. I just couldn’t figure it out. Sometimes you sound like you just finished roping a steer, and other times I expect you to call me ‘lassie.’”

He snorted. “I said Ireland, not Scotland. And I never roped a steer in my life.”

A few more steps in silence, and then another question slipped out of Lani’s mouth unbidden. “How’d you end up in Ireland? The Army?”

“You ask a lot of questions, pixie-girl. I lived in Ireland after I got out of the Army. A buddy from my Ranger unit was from there.”

“I’m not a pixie,” Lani snapped.
 

Of course, he just chuckled. Then he dropped the bomb. “So, Kailani. Who are you running from?”

She stumbled at his words, and his strong hand caught her waist to keep her upright. “I’m not—no one. Why would you think I’m running?”

She felt his gaze boring into her, despite the darkness. A tiny, distant orange-ish glow ahead of them grew larger and brighter.

“You got no luggage, for one thing, just one tiny backpack. You were in
that
airport, for another. You only end up there if you’re going to Seeker’s Island, or inland. Or if you’re running. You’re here, on this island, with nowhere to stay, dick for money, and you’re twitchy. All that equals to running from someone.”

“I’m not twitchy. I just don’t like being touched.”

“Well, I don’t believe that for a second, but I ain’t gonna argue with you,
lassie
.” Amusement laced his voice.
 

It was then that Lani finally realized his hand had never left her waist. She blushed in the darkness and sped up to get out of his touch.

“I’m not running. I’m just…getting away.”

“And the difference would be what?”

“No one is looking for me.” Damn the sadness in her voice.

He didn’t answer for several steps. “So what are you getting away from, then?”

“Life. Betrayal.”

“Your man cheated on you, huh?”

She stumbled again. That wasn’t a sob, it was just…a cough. His hand on her waist steadied her and sent her pulse racing and frightened her.
 

“Yeah.” Her whisper was barely audible in the jungle.

“Stupid of him. Oughta be kicked in the balls for being such a dumbass.” His hand stayed on her waist, and she let it.
 

Why she let his hand stay on her waist, she wasn’t sure, other than the fact that it comforted her somehow.

“I did kick him in the balls, actually.”

He laughed. “Really?”

She nodded. “Caught him in bed with a contest organizer’s assistant. He followed me out of the room, and when he tried to tell me it wasn’t what I thought, I kicked him in the sack. ’Cause shit, I know what fuckin’ look like, and they were fuckin’. You tell me some shit I wouldn’ta believed dat wen in little kid time, you tellin’ me I’m stupid. Deserve a good kick in the balls.” She’d accidentally slipped back into the way she’d spoken as a teen on the streets of town side, the way she’d spoken before the contests and the gold medals and the press, before she’d buried her past.
 

Casey just grunted his agreement. They’d come to a stop in a clearing in the jungle. There was a little hut, the kind of thing you’d expect to see on a tropical island, no walls, four wood posts holding up a thatch roof. A flickering street light hung from a power line suspended across the clearing, providing the orange glow she’d seen. A pair of dirty, thin, white feet were propped up on a table, while the rest of the body was hidden by a dirty red four-door Jeep Wrangler in which he or she was lying down.

A snore rose from the Jeep, which turned to a snort of surprise when Casey kicked the side. “Who—wha?” A gangly, skinny, redheaded kid of maybe twenty or so sat up in the Jeep, rubbing his eyes. “Oh, Casey, that’s you. Sorry I fell asleep. Mrs. Adams told me you were supposed to be back tonight and to wait for you.”

Casey frowned. “Shit, Carl. Didn’t need to wait for me. Ain’t that far of a walk.”

Carl frowned. “You ever try to argue with Mrs. Adams?”

Casey laughed. “Good point.” He gestured to Lani with the hand that was no longer on Lani’s waist. “This here is Lani. Lani, this is Carl.”

Lani recognized the expression on Carl’s face, the hopeful surprise as he fumbled to his feet and swept his hand through his hopelessly bushy red hair. “Hi, Lani. Nice to meet you.” He shook her hand, holding on just a bit too long. “How long will you be here? On the island, I mean. Of course I meant the island, I mean, where else would I mean, right? I’m just asking because I think Mrs. Adams has a nice room she could let you, if that’s where you’re going, of course. I can take you anywhere else you might need to go, though, so just ask, ’cause I know just about everywhere on the Island—”

“Carl,” Casey interrupted.
 

“Yeah?” He paused midstream and glanced up at Casey.

“Shut up. You’re babbling, and she’s tired. Just drive us to Sunseeker’s.”

“Sure—sure thing, Case.” He blushed red and stumbled around the front of the Jeep to get in the driver’s seat.
 

The Jeep had its doors and roof off and sported oversize tires. Lani stared at the Jeep, debating on whether to sit in front or back, and how to climb in. Casey took the backpack from Lani and set it on the passenger seat, then lifted Lani by the waist into the back seat, answering both of Lani’s questions. He settled himself in next to her, his weight pushing the Jeep down toward the ground. Lani’s skin tingled where his hands had touched her skin between her tank top and her khaki shorts.

“I’m short, Casey. Not helpless.” She glared at him as the Jeep sped away through the darkness.
 

It hadn’t escaped Lani that Casey’s behavior toward Carl was, in an almost-subtle way, possessive. It had hinted that Lani was with Casey without coming right out and saying so. She wasn’t sure whether to be angry at his presumption, or grateful that it had saved her from any more awkward advances by Carl. As tired as she was, as flustered by Casey as she was, the last thing Lani needed was the fumbling flirtation of a cute and well-meaning but hopelessly naïve kid like Carl.
 

“I know,” Casey said, smirking at her. “You’re just fun to toss around.”
 

She couldn’t think of an answer that wouldn’t turn the conversation into innuendo, so she settled for an exasperated huff, crossing her arms under her breasts.
 
Which, of course, only prompted another tympanic chuckle.

Considering it was after eleven at night, the town was surprisingly well-lit and alive, a couple bars competing for the patronage of the locals and the tourists, old-looking streetlamps illuminating a quaint downtown area. The Jeep buzzed through the town and swerved down a side street, skidding to a stop in front of a cutesy building that managed to be at once completely an island resort motel and a cottage you might see in the backwaters of mainland America. Carl left the engine running, and didn’t get out. Casey hopped out and grabbed Lani’s backpack. Before she could even lift her backside off the seat, Casey had his hands around her waist and was lifting her out and settling her on the ground.
 

Lani made a sound of exasperation in her throat, spinning in place to smack Casey on the shoulder. “Goddammit, Casey. Quit doing that. I can get out of a goddamn car on my own.”

Casey laughed outright. “Sure you can. You’re cute when you’re pissed, y’know that?”

“And you’re cute when you’re not talking,” Lani retorted.

Carl snorted and then paled when Casey shot him a warning glare. “Guess I’ll be heading home now,” Carl muttered, and shot away in the Jeep, tires flinging bits of gravel.

Casey led Lani into the lobby of the Sunseeker’s Inn. The room was darkened, although there was enough ambient light for Lani to see the sort of kitschy island knickknacks one would expect from a place like this.

“Mrs. Adams is asleep by now,” Casey said, reaching over the counter to snag a key from a drawer. “I’ll get you into your room, and we’ll settle up with her in the morning.”

Lani frowned. “Shouldn’t we wake her up?”

Casey shook his head. “I made the mistake of waking her up by accident once. It wasn’t pretty. I don’t care to repeat it. There’s only one room open right now, anyway.”

He held Lani’s backpack slung from one shoulder, so she was forced to go along with him down the hallway. He wiggled the key into a yellow-painted door and pushed it open, flicking on a light as he entered. The room was tiny, a queen bed taking up most of the space, with a sliding glass door along one side, and a makeshift galley kitchen along the other. A bathroom and a closet formed one corner, and a bureau of drawers opposite the foot of the bed with a twenty-year-old TV set on top of it made the rest of the room. The bed had a quilt that looked suspiciously homemade…and warm.
 

Suddenly, Lani was exhausted. Passed-out drunk sleep just wasn’t very refreshing.

“You look like you’re about to fall over where you stand, darlin’.” Casey set her backpack on the bed and stood facing her.

“I am,” she admitted. “I’m coming from Maine. I took a train from Portland to New York, and a bus from New York to St. Louis, and then a flight from there to the airport where you met me. I’ve been traveling nonstop, without sleep, for over seventy-two hours.”

“Except for that part where you passed out,” Casey said.

She tilted her head from side to side. “That doesn’t count as sleep. Ever passed out like that? It’s not at all like a good night’s sleep. Or even a nap.”

Casey laughed. “I have, all too frequently. And you’re right.” He moved past her to crack open the sliding glass door, sliding the screen door in place.
 

A light, salty breeze and the shushing of the ocean washed over Lani. For the first time in the six months since she’d left Hawaii, she didn’t feel quite as homesick. Casey’s presence behind her was both nerve-wracking and comforting.
 

She turned in place and found herself staring up, up, and up into his pale blue eyes. “Thanks for…you know…getting me out of that airport.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, then, absurdly, reached down with a forefinger to brush a wayward strand of her black hair out of her mouth. “Mrs. Adams serves breakfast until ten or so, usually. If you’re still asleep after that, there’s places in town to get a good breakfast.”

Lani was frozen solid by his finger’s touch on her cheek, and it wasn’t until his broad frame was filling the doorway three feet away that she remembered to breathe. He was gone, and she felt the strength flood out of her. After he was gone, she noticed he’d set her $100 bill on the bed next to her backpack.
 

She barely made it onto the bed before sleep overtook her.

*
 
*
 
*

She woke with sunlight bathing her, warming her. She was still in the same clothes she’d been wearing when she left Portland, and she was lying diagonally across the bed. She rolled off the bed and stood up, stretching as she stared out the patio door. The ocean glinted blue-white not far away, and the familiar scents and sounds of the Pacific Ocean made her feel as if things might, somehow, someday, be okay.
 

She’d spent the last six months refusing to think about Rafael or his betrayal. She’d gone through the stages of a breakup, of course, getting mad and then sad, crying and drinking herself stupid with friends across the country. Now, while she wasn’t exactly home, she was somewhere like it, and reality was crashing back down around her.
 

She had nothing. The car she drove on Oahu and the house they’d lived in together were both in Rafe’s name. Her clothes, her trophies, her favorite surfboard—which she’d carved herself out of koa—everything she owned was back on Oahu. And she just couldn’t stomach the thought of seeing Rafe again, seeing him with that stupid slut Allison, not even to retrieve her belongings.
 

Lani put those thoughts aside once more and took a long, hot shower, washing the grime of travel away. She stepped out of the narrow shower stall and was drying off when a short, heavy knock resounded on her door.
 

She knew who it had to be. Only two people even knew she was here, possibly three if Casey had spoken to the innkeeper, Mrs. Adams. Lani debated. She was soaking wet, and this towel was barely big enough to fit around her torso. She could ignore Casey’s knock until she was dressed. She should. She didn’t want him to see her like this.
 

It was…dangerous.

But there he was, pounding on the door as if he’d like to break it down. “It’s past noon, Lani. I heard the water running, so I know you’re up.”

She wasn’t aware of having made the decision, but the towel was wrapped beneath her armpits and she was swinging the door open. Her mouth went dry. Casey was wearing a pair of navy blue board shorts and nothing else. His body…holy hell. Mile after mile of muscle. Not cut muscle, not toned bodybuilder muscle, but the bulky slabs of a naturally powerful man used to hard labor. She’d stepped back when she opened the door, and he’d followed her in. He was mere inches from her, and suddenly, she felt tinier than ever. She was used to being the shortest girl in any room, used to looking up at people, reaching up to cabinets. She’d always made up for it with a dominant personality, fiery and fierce and funny. But Casey, he was…
huge
. His chest and stomach were coated in fine, curly reddish hairs, his forearms, too. He had the Army Ranger insignia tattooed on his left pectoral.