Caught in the Surf Read online

  “Barely.”

  “Shut up. I’m five-one, I’ll have you know.” Lani hated how that had come out but couldn’t take it back.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and refused to be embarrassed. Casey just chuckled under his breath and shoved the throttle to full. Speech was impossible after that, the plane jouncing and jarring over the waves. She let herself glance at Casey and noticed that, despite his teasing moments before, his mouth was now set in a hard line and his granite-slab shoulders were tensed forward. The bounces became longer and higher, and Lani’s stomach began to rise into her throat as they touched water once more, then lifted off. She couldn’t quite stifle a shriek of panic when a white-capped wave sliced beneath them, big enough to have done damage had it hit them. Casey blew out a soft, barely perceptible breath of his own.

  “That was close,” Lani said.

  “Yep.”

  “Would that have made us crash?”

  Casey shrugged. “Wouldn’t have been good.”

  A long silence ensued then, as the seaplane rose into the air. After a while, Lani couldn’t take the silence. She’d never been good at silence. “Where’d you learn to fly?”

  “Army.” Casey didn’t even look at her.

  “You were a pilot in the army? Where were you stationed?”

  He glanced at her finally, as if debating how much to say. “All over. Japan, Germany, Philippines, Guam, Okinawa, Korea, Ireland. Wasn’t regular Army.”

  “What were you, then?”

  “Army Rangers. I was a Ranger, but I preferred flying to being in the thick of it.”

  She peered through the windscreen, seeing nothing and wondering how he knew where they were going. “So you can fly a lot of different kinds of things, then, I bet, right?”

  He grunted in answer as a gust of wind buffeted them. “Yeah, I can fly everything from C-17s to these little pond-hoppers, choppers, gliders, you name it. If it goes in the air, I can fly it. ’Cept fighter jets, of course. Though I could, and did once, in a pinch. Hated it. Scary as shit.”

  “Is this scary for you? Flying in this weather?” Lani felt the aircraft jolt and dip, heard rain blatting against it.

  “This ain’t weather. It’s a bit of rain. And no.”

  Lani couldn’t seem to stop the questions, since they kept her own nerves at bay. She hated flying. “So what would scare you?”

  “You ask a lot of questions. I flew a C-130 through the edge of a hurricane once. That was some scary shit. We got caught and didn’t have enough fuel to go around it. It just hit us out of nowhere. Rain going sideways, blown so hard it sounded like bullets hitting the walls. We’d drop a thousand feet in about ten seconds, just whoomp, so fast you didn’t have time to get sick. Then we’d pick up altitude again, only to be blown this way and that and tossed around. I nearly shit myself, I think. Did pee a little, if I remember right.” He said the last with a grin.

  “That sounds horrifying.” She couldn’t stop her own grin from spreading at the idea of this massive man peeing his pans.

  “It wasn’t fun. Made it through intact, though. We ran out of fuel as we were taxiing off the runway.” He glanced at Lani, clearly seeing her hands white-knuckled on the armrests. “This ain’t nothin’ to be worried about. We’ll be fine.”

  She didn’t want him to think she was a coward, for reasons she didn’t care to examine too closely. “My uncle was a pilot. He used to fly me and my sister around all the time, in a tiny little plane just like this. Once, it was just me and Uncle Jimmy. We were halfway to the Big Island when a storm hit us. We were out over open water and, like you said, it just hit. No warning. We crashed. Uncle Jimmy died getting me out of the wreckage. Flying has been difficult ever since. Especially in planes like this.”

  “Shit, Kailani. Sorry for your loss. I can promise you we won’t crash today, though. You’ll be all right.”

  A gust of wind buffeted them sideways, and Lani clutched the armrest with clawed fingers. When they had evened out, Lani glanced at Casey, who was lighting a cigarette and pinching it between his teeth as he slipped the plastic Bic lighter back in his hip pocket.

  “You’re smoking? Now?” Lani hated how her voice turned into a squeak at the end.

  Casey just grinned, spewing smoke from his nose. “Keeps me calm. This ain’t even a storm, Kailani. We’ll be fine. Trust me.”

  “Call me Lani.” She didn’t address his “trust me” comment. Trusting a man wasn’t possible, not for Lani, not then.

  Another gust of wind knocked them, tipping to the side, and Lani heard a whimper scrape past her teeth.

  “This is a storm. I don’t give a shit what you say, Mr. Army Ranger.” Lani was proud of how steady her voice was.

  Casey grinned at her again. “Nah. This is just a little squall. Ain’t nothin’. But you’re entitled to your fear. Not saying you’re not.” He rummaged in a backpack between their seats and pulled out a flask, handed it to Lani. “A bit of liquid courage might help.”

  Lani’s stomach turned, but she took the metal flask and swallowed a slug of burning whiskey. “Oh, god. I think I might be sick now.”

  Casey frowned at her. “Not in my plane, please. I hate cleaning up puke.”

  Lani shook her head. “I won’t. Just nauseous.”

  After a few minutes, Lani felt the plane dipping and lowering gradually, and then there was a soft, wet thump and the liquid scraping of water past the floats, and they were down. Lights gleamed yellow-orange in the distance, and Lani felt a soft flutter of hope.

  Hope for what, she wasn’t sure.

  “Welcome to Seeker’s Island,” Casey said. He shut off the engine, unbuckled his safety belt, and unfolded his enormous frame from the seat.

  Lani just sat for a moment, staring at the soft glow of the lights, feeling the plane rock and bob gently. Casey shoved the door open, and Lani was assaulted by the smell of rain and ocean, and underneath that the scent of jungle and wet sand. She heard the homey sound of waves sloshing against shore, the gentle drift of rain, the chuck of water on the dock pilings.

  He stepped out and extended his hand to Lani. Hesitating in the doorway, Lani stared at his proffered palm. Casey narrowed his eyes at her hesitation, then leaned forward and wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her bodily from the plane with one arm. He pulled her against his body, held her there for a long moment. His heart thudded against her ribcage, and his thick arm coiled around her waist like a serpent, hard, strong, and unmoving. She found herself unable to look away from him, his pale, sky-blue eyes captivating her attention. Suddenly, she was all too aware of this man, of his scent: engine oil, alcohol, cigarettes, faint cologne.

  Something tensed in her, her heart clenching, her body becoming wired and attuned and sensitive. Her palms were flat on his chest, her arms barred vertically between them.

  She was also aware that her feet were suspended nearly a foot off the ground.

  “Put me down…please,” she whispered.

  His hands were on her hips then, and she was lowered slowly to the ground, sliding down the length of his body. For a reason she didn’t want to think about, she didn’t step back from him right away. His heat radiated against her and his eyes held her in place, his mammoth frame blocking out the world and her thoughts and her fears and her past and everything except this ridiculous moment of mesmerized captivation.

  Then a breeze swept over them, bringing the tang of brine and the sweet musk of fresh rain, and Lani was shaken awake, brought out of her hypnotized state. She forced herself to step past him and stalk down the dock, cursing herself under her breath.

  “Lani.” His voice stopped her.

  She turned to glance over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

  He held her backpack in one huge hand. “Might need this.”

  She crossed the space between them, hating how her heartbeat ratcheted up as she drew nearer to him. She took the backpack from him, careful not to brush his hand with hers.

  “Thanks,�
� she mumbled, and turned away once more.

  He let her get off the dock before he called out again. “Know where you’re going?”

  She stopped, hung her head, and cursed out loud. “Toward the lights?” She sounded petulant.

  He chuckled, and she heard the seaplane’s door close, and the brief rustle of a rope around a piling. Then he was creaking across the dock and in the sand beside her. Sand sloughed away beneath his feet, covering hers.

  “Wouldn’t make it too far. Jungle gets thick if you miss the path.”

  “I grew up on Hawaii. I think I’d be okay in the jungle.” She still sounded petulant, damn it.

  His chuckle was another deep rumble, and then his fingers curled around her elbow. His touch was like sandpaper on her skin. She flinched at his touch, refusing to acknowledge the fact that her breath was caught in her throat.

  “You sure are twitchy. I ain’t gonna hurt you, darlin’.” He pulled her into a walk as he talked, and he seemed to know exactly where he was going, even though she couldn’t see her feet in front of her.

  She wasn’t twitchy — she just didn’t like and didn’t understand why her body kept reacting so strongly to this bear of a man. He made her feel things she hadn’t felt in a long time. Not since leaving Rafael, and even with him, it had been a while since she felt such strong feelings, such powerful physical reactions to a simple thing like a hand on her elbow.

  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.”