Red Tide (Siren Publishing Classic) (19 page)

“What’s that?”

“To be able to say you’re doing it on your own.”

She smiled. “You can say that again.” She sat back in her chair and sighed. “Mom loved John, and she didn’t understand why I wasn’t happy. I guess she thought that I had a nice house and a rich husband, that should be plenty.”

“Ray hated him.”

“Daddy had good taste.” This brought laughter from both. “Daddy, I do believe, would have been perfectly happy if John dropped off the face of the earth.”

“I believe Ray would have been more than happy to help him do just that.”

They greeted Dan when he walked in. There was a short list to go over of things to do for the day, then Mitch gathered her briefcase and purse and looked at Ed.

“Ready?”

He held the door open for her, grinning. “Let’s go spend some of your money.” They left Pete under Dan’s supervision and went out to Ed’s truck.

Mitch retrieved her cell phone from the Bronco and double-checked to make sure the doors were locked. She climbed into Ed’s F150 and settled in for the hour-long drive to St. Petersburg. They stopped at two yacht brokerages before noon, only one of which had anything that Mitch was interested in.

Ed bought Mitch lunch. They drove over to St. Pete Beach and ate at a little waterfront cafe. When their meal arrived, they ate in companionable silence. After she finished she pushed her plate away and fiddled with her napkin.

“Have you been getting the feeling that people are trying to push us together?” she tentatively asked him.

He laughed. “Oh, yeah. First Ron and Jack, then Sami and Matt start in on me.” He looked over at her. “You, too?”

She nodded with a smile. “Seems every time I turn around someone’s telling me I’m crazy for not chasing you.” She felt her insides knot from the nervous tension. This was her moment of truth, whether or not she went through with this.

He looked down at the table, a gentle smile playing across his lips. “What do you think we should do about it?” he finally asked, turning to meet her anxious gaze once more.

She shrugged, unsure of herself. “I’m scared.” She was quiet for several minutes as she tried to compose her thoughts. When she next spoke, it was cautiously, deliberately, trying to ensure she said what she meant. “I’m not scared
of
you, please don’t misunderstand me. I’m scared of
losing
you.”

His hands moved across the table and captured hers, stroking them as she talked. She garnered courage from the contact and dove into the rest of what she wanted to say.

“You are my best friend in the world, Ed. I don’t want to do anything to risk that friendship with you. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to have a relationship with you, but I don’t want to lose what we have now.

“I just wanted to tell you that if something happens between us, then that’s wonderful. But I don’t want us to rush things along for the wrong reason. Heck, I don’t even know if that’s what you want to do.” There. The words were out, and she couldn’t take them back.

* * * *

Ed’s heart pounded in his chest. Mitch’s words literally took his breath away. He wanted to whisk her away to the Don Cesar hotel, get a beautiful suite, and make love to her all weekend. Given how emotionally fragile she appeared right now, he tempered those emotions.

“Mitch, I would love that very much.” He thought about that for a second, then amended, “I know you’ve been through a lot with John, but if you trust me, I’ll never do anything to disappoint you.”

The smile that enveloped her face brightened his soul. “I know I can trust you. I always have. But where do we go from here?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. We’ll go along as it happens, I suppose.” He gave her hands another gentle squeeze. “We’ll take this slow. You set the pace.” He leaned over and grazed her cheek with his lips. “Whatever happens, happens.”

The waitress brought their check, and Ed narrowly beat Mitch to it. On the way back to his truck, Mitch slid her hand into his and their fingers laced together.

They spent the rest of the afternoon shopping for boats. Ed started to think of it in terms of “their” boat and not just “her” boat. They actually found a couple that Mitch really liked and felt were within her price range. She kept track of the possibles in a notebook she carried with her. Afternoon storms crept in from across the Bay, forcing Mitch and Ed to conclude the day. The return drive to Aripeka was a quiet one. They held hands nearly the entire way home.

They beat the storms to Aripeka, but the skies behind them quickly darkened. Ed parked the truck close to the store in case it was storming when he decided to leave. When they entered the store, Dan did a double take and looked at them quizzically.

“What happened to you two?” he asked.

Mitch felt the broadening smile on her face. “What are you talking—” A loud clap of thunder interrupted and startled her. “Better get the computer down,” she said, and moved to do just that.

Thunder rumbled again, only a few miles away. Mitch smacked herself on the head. “Dammit. I think I left the computer on at my house. I’d better go turn it off.” Pete tried to follow her out the door and she commanded him to stay.

Ed called the disappointed dog over to him and scratched him on the head. Mitch grabbed her car keys off the counter and walked out the door. Dan must have been watching Ed’s face, because he laughed.

“Ed, you look like a kid in love.”

He turned and smiled. “I am.”

* * * *

Mitch felt the heat wave when she opened the door of the Bronco. Even on a cloudy day in Florida, cars were transformed into ovens. The dark blue color hadn’t been the best choice for keeping the interior cool during Florida summers, but she liked it just the same. Once behind the wheel, she started the engine and turned the air up to max. She was about to shift into drive when she realized she left her purse—containing her house keys—in the shop. Mitch sighed in resignation at her absentmindedness.

I’ll probably be late to my own funeral
.

* * * *

Ed started for the back room when Dan called to him. “Oh, a man stopped by here today, looking for Mitch.”

Ed turned. “Oh, really? What did he want?”

Dan shrugged. “I don’t know. He came in looking for her. I told him she wasn’t here. He asked when she’d be back, I told him I didn’t know, that she’d gone to St. Pete with you. He said he’d try later, and left before I got his name.”

“That’s odd.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too. I saw him come out of Bob’s before he walked over here. The guy gave me a funny feeling.”

Ed walked to the front door of the shop. The first few fat rain drops began to stir the dust in the shell parking lot. “I think I’ll go ask Bob about him.”

A thunderous blast shook the shop, stopping Ed in mid-sentence. “What the hell was that?” He bolted out the door, Dan on his heels.

Mitch’s Bronco was completely engulfed in flames. Ed ran around his truck toward the raging inferno as Dan, Bob Keith, and a couple of Bob’s customers ran up behind him.

Ed couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “Mitch! Oh my god, we’ve got to save her!” He tried approaching the vehicle, but Dan and Bob held him back. The palm trees she normally parked under were ablaze. At that point, the bottom fell out of the sky and rain poured down, driving some of the onlookers back to the dry safety of the dive shop’s awning, but Ed never noticed.

“Ed, there’s nothing you can do!” Bob yelled in his ear, “We’ve got to get back in case the gas tank goes!”

“Let me go!” Ed pulled away from them and tried to get to the Bronco. “Mitch!”

They grabbed his arms again and pulled him back. This time he didn’t fight them. Tears ran, unnoticed and mixed with rain, down his face as he slumped against Dan and Bob, no longer able to support himself.

“Mitch!” he sobbed, filled with gut-wrenching anguish.

Despite the downpour, the fire raged. Hungry flames licked out of the ruined windows. A tire exploded from the heat, making everyone jump and move farther back.

Speech deserted Ed. Devastated, he stared through the rain at the burning Bronco. He paid no heed at first to Pete, who was off to the front of his truck, standing in a thick stand of Spanish needles and barking at something.

The siren of a fire truck coming over the north bridge brought Ed out of his shock. He looked over at the dog.

“Pete, come here.” His words felt slurred, his voice thick and heavy with grief.

The dog ignored him and continued to bark.

The effort was almost too much for him. “Pete! Come!” Ed stopped and, in a daze, slowly walked over to the dog. Dan and Bob started to follow him, then stopped, their jaws open in twin looks of surprise.

At first, Ed thought it was a cruel illusion. Pete nosed at what looked like Mitch’s arm, and Ed tried to steel himself for the grim sight he was about to encounter.

“Pete,” he ordered, then stopped in his tracks.

Mitch was stretched out in the Spanish needles, facedown, her arms sprawled over her head. The rain pasted her hair against the back of her apparently intact shoulders. She groaned, wringing a sob of relief from Ed.

He dropped down beside her, screaming over his shoulder, “She’s alive! Get an ambulance!”

Torn between being afraid to touch her and wanting to scoop her up in his arms, he reached out and stroked her hair. “Mitch! Mitch, hon, talk to me!”

Mitch groaned again and started to get to her knees. She grimaced in pain and rolled to her side, her eyes still closed.

Ed tightly squeezed her hand, rejoicing when she squeezed back. “Mitch, you’re going to be okay! The ambulance is on its way.”

She opened her eyes, looked at him, then tried to sit up again. He enveloped her with his arms and supported her, unabashedly crying tears of relief in her sodden hair. She tried to speak, coughed, licked her lips, and tried again.

“Ed,” she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes hon? I’m here.”

She looked up into his eyes.

“Ed, I think that fucking son of a bitch blew up my Bronco.”

He was stunned into silence for a brief moment while he digested what she said, then erupted with laughter. He gently hugged her. “Jesus Christ, I love you, kiddo.”

She coughed. “That thing was in pristine condition. John really knows how to piss me off, you know that?”

* * * *

Ron raced into the emergency room at Bayonet Point Medical Center. He tolerated being ignored by the head nurse for ten seconds before demanding to know where Mitch was and identifying himself as her attorney.

The nurse looked him up and down before pointing to a triage room. Ron sprinted for the door.

Mitch sat on a gurney. She was leaning against Ed’s shoulder and arguing with a doctor and a detective from the Pasco County Sheriff’s office as to why she should go home and not stay at the hospital. Ron recognized Detective Sam Caster, a good-natured officer he’d dealt with before. Sam stood at least four inches shorter than Ron’s own six one.

Mitch and Ed looked up at Ron. “Hi,” she simply greeted.

“Jesus Christ, Mitch! I hear on the radio that there’s an explosion in Aripeka, and two seconds later, Bob Keith calls and tells me it’s you! What the hell’s going on?” He reached out and carefully hugged her. Both her and Ed’s hair and clothes felt damp. “Are you all right?”

Ron didn’t miss Ed’s hand stroking her shoulder. “The doctor says she might have a concussion and should probably spend the night for observation, but Miss Independent here won’t stay,” Ed explained.

“I’m not staying in the hospital like a sitting duck.”

Ron looked at the pair in confusion. “What are we talking about?” He looked over at Sam for help.

Sam eyed the pair on the gurney. “Mitch seems to think there might be a connection between this and John Tyne.”

Ron blinked. “No shit! I thought we were pretty generous in the divorce papers.” He was met with silence and winced. “Sorry. Just thought I’d try to lighten the mood.”

Mitch shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I’m sorry, Ron, you don’t know the rest of the story.” She gave him an abridged version of the tale of the photos of Barres and the
Emmerand
. When she finished, Ron nodded in agreement.

“I see what you mean.”

Sam looked at Ron. “Do you know if there’s a possibility John Tyne might be involved in this?”

“In what, the drug boat, or blowing up Mitch?”

“Both. Either.”

Ron considered it for a moment. “I really don’t know him all that well, Sam,” he finally said. “It’s possible. Hell, anything’s possible. I couldn’t say.”

“Ms. Jackson,” the doctor interrupted, “I really don’t think you ought to go home without letting us at least do a CT scan.”

She shook her head. “I’m fine. Really. I’m just shook up and have a horrible headache, that’s all. What I need is to go home, crawl into a nice hot bath, and get some sleep.”