Wolfsbane (15 page)

Canyon stepped back and reached into his medical pouch, riffled through the first layer, and finally curled his fingers around a dart. On his feet, he walked over to the tangling trio of Frogman, Legend, and Sokoleski Two, and fired a dart into the guy’s neck.

As the fight leeched out of the man, Frogman and Legend released him. Secured his hands.

“Good work,” Frogman said. “He had a hidden weapon.”

“He wanted to silence his brother.”

“Yeah, but why?” Legend asked.

“Someone named Miranda.”

First Street Jetty, Virginia Beach, Virginia 13 April

“Not bad, not bad.” Canyon grinned at Azzan as he sloshed out of the water, board tucked under his arm. “Dude, you ready to paddle?”

Azzan smoothed a hand over his short-cropped black hair and smiled. “More than.”

“Then let’s hit it.”

But his friend hesitated, glancing over Canyon’s shoulder. “You know her?”

Canyon looked back—and stilled. After the way he stormed off the last time he saw her, he’d bet she wouldn’t speak to him again. Apparently she liked defying odds.

“Roark.” The sun glistened against her loose hair as she hung back. “I see you got the Rash Guard.” He couldn’t help but notice the way the black and silver nylon-spandex material hugged her upper torso, streamlined her curves.

“It seemed like a hint that I should come out.” She closed the distance.

He shrugged. “You said you wanted to learn.” Though he wanted to smile, he wouldn’t. Not in front of Azzan. He tossed his head in the former assassin’s direction. “He just started an hour ago. Think you can outlearn him?”

“Willow said you just got back in town, so I wasn’t … if it’s a bad time … I don’t want to interrupt.” Roark flicked her gaze to Azzan but quickly brought it back.

When she took a step away, Canyon moved into her path, planting the BZ beginner board in front of her. “Giving up already?”

Her chin drew up and with it a defiant gleam trickled through her brown eyes.

“I got back last night. Ten days spent like an ice cube makes a man enjoy warm water and smiles.” He liked the way that made her high cheekbones fill with color. “So, you ready?”

She nodded.

“Good. Let’s run through some basics.” He smoothed a hand along the board. “This is called a surfboard.”

“Gee. Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Azzan slapped him. “I’ve got her beat.” With a wicked grin, Azzan dragged his board back to the salty water.

What Canyon didn’t miss was the streak of indignation that darted through Roark’s expression. “Come on. We’ll run through it.”

He led her to a clear stretch of beach where he laid out the board, careful to bury the fins in the sand. “Okay, first things first. This is the nose.” He toed the front portion of the board. “It’s a beginner board, so it’s not narrow like mine. Then you have the tail and rails.” He pointed to the sides. “Of course, on the bottom, fins.” He patted the center. “The deck.”

Canyon stood and walked around the board, which brought him behind Roark. He gave her a slight shove between her shoulder blades.

She pitched forward but caught herself. “Hey!”

“Relax, I was checking your footing. You’re a right footer.”

“Excuse me?”

“When I pushed, you stepped with your left foot to regain your balance. Tells me how to instruct you on the board. Now, watch. I’ll demonstrate, then it’s up to you.” Canyon pressed his gut to the fiberboard and gripped the rails. “You’ll ride it out like this to get into position. When you’re ready, push your shoulders up and arch your back. Make sure your hands are under your chest and then raise up.

“Push upward from your toes and hands.” He mimicked as he instructed. “Bring your back foot up, front foot forward, level with your hands. Then stand with your knees bent, arms apart, looking toward the nose.”

After tying her hair back, Roark spent the next twenty minutes perfecting her technique. He kept a watch on Azzan still riding the smaller waves. Chicken. Canyon had a feeling Roark’s competitive edge would push the two into a silent contest.

“I think you’re ready to show Aladdin there a thing or two.”

Roark eyed him. “I’m not here to compete.”

“Why
are
you here?”

She dipped her head and though the sunburn made it hard to tell, it seemed more color infused her cheeks. The noble thing to do was to tell her to go home, wait for Range to call. Spending so much time with her certainly wouldn’t help his sibling rivalry or relationship. But the fact that she’d come, sought him out, when she withdrew from every other male he’d seen around her …

“Come on.” BZ in hand, he plodded the shoreline to a clear spot. “Okay. Hold the rails and walk it out until you’re waist deep. Then hop on and paddle out.”

“You want me to go out there already—
alone
?”

“I’m not leaving. You aren’t ready.” He motioned to the board. “Take ’er out.”

With a nervous glance at him, she positioned her board into the water. He monitored the water depth, noting he stood at least a foot taller than Roark. When the ocean encircled the top of her board shorts, he stopped her. “Okay, lay on it so the nose rises out of the water. Not a lot, but enough.”

Complying, she moved with expertise.

“Okay, good. Good.” Wasn’t this her first time? As he waded out, hands still on her board, he noticed the determination gouged into her face. “Roark.”

Her gaze darted to his.

“Relax. Enjoy it.”

A sharp nod.

“If you tense up, you’re going to make yourself sick out here or get wicked cramps.” Chest deep, he paused and held her board. His words seemed to have worked because she blew out a short breath. “Now, get your feet on the board like you practiced on the beach.”

As she shifted from belly position to feet position, the board wobbled. “Keep it nice and fluid. Try again.” Canyon waited as she repeated the maneuver. “Okay, good!” He searched the surfers and found Azzan coming off another small wave. “Hey, Aladdin! You’d better pony up to a big wave or Roark’s going to wipe you out!”

“Bring it,” Azzan said just seconds before he flipped into the water.

After an hour of more lessons, Roark had grown comfortable enough to attempt a decent wave. Canyon stood at the shoreline monitoring her as she tackled it.

Azzan sloughed through the water, board under his arm. For a minute or two, he watched Roark. “She’s good.”

“Yeah.” Canyon folded his arms over his chest.

“I need to bug out. After this morning’s exercise, I’m feeling a bit worse for the wear.”

Canyon chuckled. “It’ll take time. Don’t let Legend get to you.”

“His fist sure got to me a couple of weeks ago.”

“At least you’ve haven’t made that mistake since.”

“I don’t want to go through that again.” Azzan handed off the
board. “Next week?”

Canyon nodded. “Yep.”

As his teammate took off, he turned his attention back to Roark. In the water, she’d apparently fallen off but was already climbing back up.
Atta girl
. She lay on the board and started toward shore.

At the moment she waved to him, grinning, he saw the dark, discolored water. Choppy and rippling. “Oh no.” He hurried to the water’s edge and cupped his hands over his mouth. “Go with it! Don’t fight the pull.”

Too late.

Her brows knitted. She paddled harder.

Canyon grabbed his board, secured the leash to his ankle, and rushed into the water. Long, determined strides pushed him into the rip. The board struggled beneath him. “Roark, paddle into the pull. Don’t fight it.”

Brown eyes hit his. Wide. Panicked.

He pointed a couple of yards out. “Aim that way.”

She glanced in the direction, then nodded. The water writhed beneath them. Canyon finally made it to her. “Keep going. You’re doing fine.”

Minutes later, they eased along a diagonal path and made it out of the riptide. Roark slumped against the foam base with a groan. Face partially flattened against the board, she looked at him. A half grin made its way into her face.

“You’re not a beginner.”

She shrugged.

“But you’re not a pro.”

“Hardly.” She sat up on the board and straddled it. “My dad and Abby got married in Hawaii. I learned the basics while they were honeymooning.”

Canyon grinned. “Promise me one thing.”

Squinting against the setting sun, she smiled at him. “What?”

“Don’t tell Aladdin.”

CHAPTER 9

D
anielle, you look absolutely stunning, my dear!” Mrs. Metcalfe took her hands and held them out to the side. “My, my. Look at this dress.” She arched an eyebrow at Dani, making her feel self-conscious in the satiny navy dress with sequined bodice. Her gaze shifted to the long sleeve of the lightweight sweater that concealed the marks the stitches—long since dissolved—left. “Never mind the dress, look at
you
in the dress. I think I might need to chaperone you two to this spring ball.”

“Mom, you’re embarrassing her!” Willow laughed. “Come on, everyone. Out back for pictures.”

Range inserted himself, tucking Dani’s hand into the crook of his arm as he smiled down at her. “You look beautiful.”

Nerves and nausea swirled through her stomach. She appreciated his attention, but her mind kept racing back to Venezuela, to a similar look far too many men had given her. She had to mentally dissect the look, reminding herself that Range had more honor in his little finger than Bruzon’s men had in their whole bodies.

A series of photographs took close to a half hour, but Dani was glad for the company of his sister and mother, grateful she wasn’t alone with Range. But the padding of their presence wouldn’t last forever. She and Range posed this way. That way. Always his hands on her, whether at the small of her back, her shoulders, her waist. Dani fought the urge to squirm away from him. Out of his reach.

“We need to get going.” Range led her back into the house and patted down his pockets. “I think I left my house keys upstairs. I’ll be right back.”

Willow’s lighthearted laugh seemed to mingle with the rose-patterned wallpaper and nostalgic photos. “You might want to hold the
keys for him tonight. He’s notorious for losing them.”

The front door jerked open. “What’s with the—?”

Dani’s breath jammed into her throat as Canyon stopped in the foyer. His gaze fell on her. Though she thought she saw appreciation in his expression at her appearance, a stronger emotion crowded it out: irritation. Or anger. Either way, his mouth clamped shut and he didn’t move.

“Just in time, Canyon,” their mother said. “Doesn’t Danielle look amazing? She’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Canyon’s jaw muscle popped. He gave a curt nod. Stalked down the hall to the kitchen, taking her heart with him.

Why did he have to show up? She didn’t want him to see her like this—all dressed up and going out with his brother.

“Okay, we’re good to go.” Range hustled back down the stairs.

Sultry and blue, evening welcomed them. A cool breeze mingled with the thickness of an impending storm. As she turned toward the drive, gravel crunching beneath her feet, she froze.

A sleek black limousine waited.

Impressed, Dani couldn’t help but smile at Range. But as she did, she saw in his eyes the hope of something more … of a future.
Oh no
. A limo like that meant Range wanted to express a promise of things to come. Things she wasn’t interested in seeing fulfilled. Clearly this was his attempt to woo her.

But maybe that wasn’t so bad. Handsome in his own right, Range Metcalfe had a heart of gold. Gentle manners. Almost shy in a charming sort of way. Really, she shouldn’t rebuff his attention. A man like him outshone every date her father had pushed on her over the last five years, trying to marry her off. She could get used to the treatment, especially since it was obvious Canyon didn’t have an interest.

They arrived at the Marriott Resort amid a flurry of dress whites and glittering gowns. Their limo pulled to the porte cochere and a valet opened the door. Range climbed out first and once again offered his hand.

Dani accepted it, glad to have his protection against the crowds and pomp of the evening. How her mother had ever borne up under it, she didn’t know. They’d shared everything—characteristics, appearance, and sentiments. Then her mother died.

A wretched thought rammed into her, shoving a steel rod down her spine. If Range was here and he’d rescued her, wouldn’t there be more of the Coasties who’d rescued her as well? She slowed.

“You okay?” Range asked as they entered the resort.

“Yeah.” It seemed not only possible but a grim reality. And the last thing she wanted was to have some officer or Coastie staring at her, remembering her naked broken body laid out in that basket.

“Why, Chief Metcalfe,” an older officer with more medals and ribbons than most of the Coasties approached them with a perfectly coiffed woman. “Who is this beauty you’ve brought with you?”

Was it her imagination or did Range’s chest just puff out?

“Lieutenant Commander Greene, this is Danielle Roark, my date,” Range said. His blue eyes—so much like Canyon’s—sparkled against his tanned face. Another thing like Canyon.