Night Swimming (19 page)

Sean winced inwardly. “I don’t think that’s anyone’s business, Hal. Not even yours,” he added defensively. A colossal mistake.

Hal’s temper exploded. “What do you mean, not my business? Okay, McDermott, we’ll skip over the political repercussions for you as mayor if someone other than me caught you and Lily. I guess the phrase
conflict of interest
doesn’t ring a bell. To tell you the truth, I don’t give a rat’s ass about politics. I’ll go straight to what I do care about: you breaking Lily’s heart.”

“What?!” Sean exclaimed.

“Yeah, I know. You’re gonna tell me that what I interrupted a few minutes ago was just a casual romp in the pool. That’s a load of crap, McDermott. You know as well as I that Lily’s never been casual about anything in her life.
Especially not you.
’Sides, what I witnessed back there was
not
casual. Shit, I’m surprised the water wasn’t boiling with the heat you two were making.”

“Christ, Hal.” Sean spread his hands, his palms up. “Things kind of exploded between us. But Lily’s not a girl anymore—”

“If you’re stupid enough to believe that, then you don’t understand dick about Lily—no matter how hard you were trying back in my pool!”

Sean opened his mouth, but Hal was in full rant. “I’ve known Lily since she was a lonely, awkward kid. Of all people, you, Sean, should remember what she was like, how it was for her.”

“She ended up fine—”

“Yeah, she did. Because of her brains and her heart, she’s accomplished everything she’s dreamed of. But accomplished as she is, with all that beauty, she’s as lonely, as vulnerable as she was at thirteen. She needs a home, McDermott. She needs to know she belongs. That there’s a place for her to care about
above
sea level.”

“Hal—”

“I’m warning you, Sean. I’ll have your ass if you go and hurt Lily and make her run away. Now, get out of here before I get really pissed.”

Hal was wrong, and his protective impulse was way overblown.
Thoroughly misguided, too,
Sean thought, as he slammed the office door behind him. It was he— not Lily—who was in need of protection. Sean had an awful feeling he’d lost his heart back there in the pool, and that when Lily discovered she had it, she’d toss it away.

The apartment was in shadows when Lily entered. She left the lights off and walked in darkness to the large picture windows. The rain had stopped and yet the glass panes blurred, dissolving into nothing. She blinked back the tears that brimmed, refusing to let them fall. She would lock up her tears, along with her heartache.

Stifling a moan of despair, she bit her lower lip, a lip still swollen from Sean’s tender assault.
What had she
done?
she asked herself wretchedly. She knew the answer: She had let Sean touch her. She’d never dreamed how devastating the result would be.

She’d never felt lonelier or more confused in her life.

The reef study would be finished soon. So far, the coral appeared uniformly healthy. If the remaining transects proved to be in equally good condition, her job would consist of simply tying up loose ends. Once she received Lesnesky’s report, she’d compare her data with his and then present the results of the study as a whole to the reef committee.

And it would be over. She would be free to do what only days ago she’d been anticipating eagerly: purchase a ticket for the next flight to the Bahamas.

The thought of leaving had the tears sliding down her cheeks.

She swallowed painfully and dashed them with the back of her hand.

When she left, she wouldn’t see Sean again. Hundreds of miles away, exploring the magic of the oceans’ reefs, she would eventually forget him.

But Lily’s aching heart told her differently, knew that she could travel to the ends of the earth, to the deepest depths of the sea, and still she’d yearn for Sean. She’d stayed away from Coral Beach for ten years. It would take far longer than that before she could forget how Sean had made her feel tonight. Perhaps a lifetime.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Pete Ferrucci climbed out of his Mercedes. It was early, the sun only just above the horizon, its golden shafts of light piercing the banks of low-lying clouds.

No one was moving near where the
Tangiers
was moored, which suited him fine. He wanted his business concluded and his man in place before Banyon and the others arrived.

Ferrucci gave the windswept, gray-green ocean a cursory glance before turning his back to it and to the glory of the rising sun breaking through clouds.

He far preferred the view of the marina.

The marina was what McDermott and his crowd liked to call
picturesque
. Picturesque meant quaint, charming, colorful. . . .
Yeah, yeah,
Ferrucci thought scornfully. He had a different definition for picturesque: rinky-dink and dead. But once this reef study was over, the marina would be shiny, big, and new. Moreover, it would be hopping, twenty-four–seven.

Ferrucci looked out over the marina and in its place envisioned the full-scale model of the developer’s blue-print brought to life.

There,
he thought,
from that copse of trees on down.
That’s where the new section of the marina would be built. The parcel of land had enough coastline that they’d be able to carve out roughly double the existing marina’s space. All they needed to do was to chop down the trees and start dredging, scooping out chunks of shoreline to the south. Then, to make sure the newly carved coast didn’t wash away, they’d buttress the shore with steel-reinforced concrete pillars. Ferrucci had seen the kind they used before. They were huge, shaped like massive drums, not that he or his partners gave a shit what the blocks looked like—after all, they’d be underwater.

South of the new marina, Ferrucci planned to put up two fifteen-story condos, with the ground floors reserved for retail space, making it like a minigalleria. The people who bought the condos would be demanding a higher class of retail and services than what was currently offered in two-bit shacks like the Rusted Keel, Norma Jean’s, or the stores selling marine supplies. Nuts, bolts, stays, and life vests . . . piddly shit-merchandise with a profit margin that was fucking laughable. Those mom-and-pop businesses would be closing shop for good, once the more upscale boutiques and cafés opened.

And Ferrucci would rake in a mountain of money. Yeah, the place was going to look fabulous. He could picture it so easily, a whole new community where before there’d only been boring, empty space. His eyes swept over the wooded area and his lip curled in disdain. Hell, even the trees were boring. Puny. Gnarly. Boring.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out. “Yeah? Good, it’s you. So, what else is new? Traffic’s always a bitch. I’m at the marina. Get here fast.”

A few minutes later a nondescript, late-model sedan pulled into the parking lot. He didn’t recognize the car, but he could guess who it was. A man got out and looked around.

He was right. Ferrucci withdrew his hand from his trench coat pocket and waved. Spotting him, the man began walking his way. Ferrucci noted he hadn’t changed much. He still carried himself with his bony shoulders rounded in a permanent slouch. He’d grown his hair longer, though, wearing it pulled back with a rubber band, à la Steven Seagal.

The only thing Ferrucci really cared about, though, was the man’s eyes, and they looked as sharp and cunning as ever. They shook hands. Ferrucci took out a white envelope from inside his sports coat and handed it to him. “A thousand, as we agreed. You’ll get a five hundred dollar bonus for every picture I buy. Here’s the address where she’s staying. I own the building, so if you need to, follow her right in. I’ve alerted the security guards. No one’ll stop you. She also spends time at her grandmother’s place. The name and address is in there as well.”

“Grandmother?” Thin eyebrows shot up in disbelief.

Ferrucci shrugged. So what if grandmothers’ homes weren’t the usual territory. “Her and McDermott’s families are close. I don’t want you to miss an opportunity. When they get here, I’ll go down and spend some time talking to her so you can identify her—not that she’s easy to miss. She’s tall, blond, and built. And pale as vanilla ice cream.”

“Whooee!” the man exclaimed with a hungry smacking sound. “I got a real sweet tooth.” He shoved the envelope Ferrucci had passed him inside his leather bomber jacket without bothering to count the money inside. “And the target, he’s the mayor of this burg?”

“Yes.” Ferrucci handed him a newspaper photo of Sean, taken at a committee meeting months ago. “But you’re better off tailing the woman, Banyon. She’s the honey pot. He’ll dip his digit soon. Keep on the job until you’ve got something I can use. It shouldn’t take too long.”

It better not.
Ferrucci wanted to get something on McDermott soon. His partners had been livid when McDermott canceled their lunch meeting yesterday. Ferrucci himself had exploded in rage when he discovered
why
McDermott had blown off the meeting—so he could go and look good in front of a bunch of high school kids.

What was even more infuriating to Ferrucci was that McDermott and Banyon had made the local headlines again, this time with their cutesy, do-gooder plan to offer a community-wide scuba diving program.

His associates were going to hit the roof once they saw the morning papers. If people started going out to the reef, becoming nature freaks, some grass-roots nut would kick up a fuss and protest the development project. Which was yet another reason why he definitely wanted Banyon and McDermott in the news—but with a very different kind of story attached to their names. One that would really make waves.

Ferrucci’s pen and paper, telephoto-lens-toting friend here was going to ensure that happened.

He glanced at his watch. “They should be coming any moment. Go down and snap some pictures of the marina at dawn like a good tourist.”

Karen slammed the car door behind her and walked back to the trunk, waiting for John to open it with the key. Careful to avoid looking at the distant waves, she kept her eyes trained on the calmer waters of the marina.

“Ugh,” she groaned, and laid her forearm protectively over her stomach. “Now I really am going to heave.”

“What? Your stomach again? We haven’t even gotten on the boat yet,” John said, inserting the key and opening the trunk. He hefted his gear bag from the trunk’s interior.

“No, it’s not the swell, it’s the human garbage. Look over your shoulder,” Karen said, pointing. Pete Ferrucci was down on the dock, beside the
Tangiers
’s lines, pumping Owen Rafern’s hand. “
That’s
what’s making me gag.”

John pivoted, glanced out at the marina and saw Ferrucci. “God, you are such a priss sometimes. It’s a free country. We’ve had McDermott and Cullen hanging around, checking on our work. Why shouldn’t Ferrucci?”

Karen looked at him and shook her head. “Maybe because he’s a creep and they’re not.” She bent over the trunk, grabbed her gear and camera bags, and lowered them onto the pavement alongside John’s.

“You’re only sticking up for Cullen and McDermott ’cause they snow you with compliments,” John said. “Ferrucci’s not that bad, not when you get to know him—”

“Yes, he is,” Karen retorted, then paused, eyeing him quizzically. “How come you think he’s okay? We only met him that once, at the advisory meeting, and he was the king of jerks. . . .”

“Yeah, well—”

“Ms. Masur, Mr. Granger.” Ferrucci must have seen them standing by the car. He approached them. “Nice to see you again,” he said.

John straightened. “Hi, Mr. Ferrucci.”

“I thought I’d drop by and check on how our research team is doing. Is Dr. Banyon here?”

“She’s coming in the other car,” John said.

With a scowl for Ferrucci, Karen turned to John. “Here, give me your bag, I’ll go stow it on the
Tangiers
. We need to leave
really
soon.”

“Gee, thanks for the news flash. Here,” he said, giving her his gear bag.

Without sparing Ferrucci another glance, Karen shouldered the three bags. She hurried along the dock toward the
Tangiers
, the cumbersome bags bumping against her.

Ferrucci waited until he heard Karen call out a friendly, “Good morning, Owen,” before speaking. “So, how’s everything progressing?”

“Only three sections left,” John replied.

Ferrucci brushed a tiny speck of lint off the sleeve of his trench coat. “And you’re making sure the samples Banyon’s sending back to the lab are nice, clean, and very unremarkable,” he asked softly.

“I’m taking care of it.”

“Good. That’s very good.” He gave a quick approving nod. “Look, there’s a club I’m going to with some of my friends and a few ladies, Trish, too. Why don’t you join us? My friends and I have something we’d like to discuss with you. A possible career opportunity. Trish knows the address—” Ferrucci broke off at the sound of car wheels rolling over gravel. “We’ll talk more later, John. Get on the boat, and keep sending that lab in Gloucester the cleanest sand in Florida. Go on,” he said, barely veiling his impatience. “I don’t want her to connect you and me in her mind.”

Ferrucci waited until John was almost at the
Tangiers
before fixing a wide smile on his face. “Dr. Banyon!” he called.

Lily’s eyebrows rose. Pete Ferrucci didn’t seem the type to be so jovial this early in the morning. “Hello, Mr. Ferrucci.”

“As I was just telling your assistant, I came by to see how the research team is doing.” He pointed a thumb at John’s retreating figure. “Mr. Granger said you’re nearly finished with your study.”

“That’s right.”

“Very impressive. It took the other scientist, Dr. Lesnesky, far longer.”

“Perhaps that’s because he was one man versus three?” she replied dryly.

“Hmm, well, yes. I suppose that could account for it. So only three sections remain?”

“That’s correct.”

“I noticed the water looked pretty rough out there.”

“The conditions aren’t the best right now,” Lily said with a shrug. “But the wind’s supposed to die down soon.” She hoped it would. Karen tended to suffer in heavy chop. Lily, however, would rather walk over hot coals than admit to any problems concerning her team to Pete Ferrucci. “The chop might be unpleasant, but we’ve dived in worse.”

“Such dedication.”

Lily inclined her head. Over Ferrucci’s shoulder she could see Owen Rafern already aboard the
Tangiers
. The engines were churning, their steady rumble filling the air. He, Karen, and John were waiting for her. Adjusting the webbed strap of her gear bag on her shoulder, she said, “Nice seeing you, again, Mr. Ferrucci.”

“I was hoping that now the study’s nearly complete, you might take me up on our rain check. Lunch? Dinner perhaps? We can discuss the reef study, as well as this idea for a community scuba diving program. Your presence has certainly generated a lot of local interest, Dr. Banyon.” He smiled. “I understand Mayor McDermott’s been out diving with you, Dave Cullen as well. I’d like to have a chance to be as abreast of the study as they are.”

Lily couldn’t believe it. Ferrucci had actually dropped his gaze, letting his eyes linger on her chest as he spoke of remaining
abreast
. The bastard.

“I’m involved in a scientific project. Any member of the advisory committee is welcome to join us and observe our procedures. Even you, Mr. Ferrucci.”

His eyes narrowed fractionally at her barbed comment. “Sadly, I’m not much of a water enthusiast.”

“Too bad. Then you’ll just have to wait for my report to the advisory panel next week.” Her heavy bag brushed him none too gently as she passed.

Ferrucci stared after Lily’s retreating figure. “I’ll look forward to it immensely, Dr. Banyon.”