Sea Swept (16 page)

“Uh-huh, well, you—what?” Phillip whirled as Cam started out of the room. “You asked the social worker to dinner? Here?”

“That’s right. Told you I like her looks.”

Phillip could only close his eyes. “For God’s sake, you’re hitting on the social worker.”

“She’s hitting on me, too.” Cam flashed a grin. “I like it.”

“Cam, not to put down your warped idea of romance, but use your head. We’ve got this problem with the insurance company. And we’ve got a problem with Seth at school. How’s that’s going to play to Social Services?”

“We don’t tell them about the first, and we give them the straight story on the second. I think that’s going to go over just fine with Miz Spinelli. She’s going to love it that the three of us went in to stand for Seth.”

Phillip opened his mouth, reconsidered, and nodded. “You’re right. That’s good.” Then as new thoughts began to play, he angled his head. “Maybe you could use your . . . influence on her to get her to move this case study along, get the system out of our hair.”

Cam said nothing for a moment, surprised at how angry even the suggestion of it made him. So his voice was quiet.
“I’m not using anything on her, and it’s going to stay that way. One situation has nothing to do with the other. That’s staying that way too.”

When Cam strode off, Phillip pursed his lips. Well, he thought, wasn’t that interesting?

A
S ETHAN GUIDED his boat toward the dock, he spotted Seth in the yard. Beside Ethan, Simon gave a high, happy bark. Ethan ruffled his fur. “Yeah, fella, almost home now.”

While he worked the sails, Ethan watched the boy toss sticks for the pup. There had always been a dog in this yard to chase sticks or balls, to wrestle in the grass with. He remembered Dumbo, the sweet-faced retriever he’d fallen madly in love with when he’d come to the Quinns.

He’d been the first dog to play with, to be comforted by, in Ethan’s life. From Dumbo he’d learned the meaning of unconditional love, had certainly trusted the dog long before he’d trusted Ray and Stella Quinn or the boys who would become his brothers.

He imagined Seth felt much the same. You could always depend on your dog.

When he’d come here all those years ago, damaged in body and soul, he had no hope that his life would really change. Promises, reassurances, decent meals and decent people meant nothing to him. So he’d considered ending that life.

The water had drawn him even then. He imagined himself walking out into it, drifting out until it was over his head. He didn’t know how to swim then, so it would have been simple. Just sinking down and down and down until there was nothing.

But the night he’d slipped out to do it, the dog had come with him. Licking his hand, pressing that warm, furry body against his legs. And Dumbo had brought him a stick, tail wagging, big brown eyes hopeful. The first time, Ethan
threw the stick high and far and in fury. But Dumbo chased it happily and brought it back. Tail wagging.

He threw it again, then again, then dozens of times. Then he simply sat down on the grass, and in the moonlight cried his heart out, clutching the dog like a lifeline.

The need to end it had passed.

A dog, Ethan thought now as he rubbed a hand over Simon’s head, could be a glorious thing.

He saw Seth turn, catch sight of the boat. There was the briefest of hesitations, then the boy lifted a hand in greeting and with the pup raced to the dock.

“Secure the lines, mate.”

“Aye, aye.” Seth handled the lines Ethan tossed out competently enough, slipping the loop over the post. “Cam said how you’d be bringing crabs tomorrow.”

“Did he?” Ethan smiled a little, pushed back his fielder’s cap. Thick brown hair tickled the collar of his work-stained shirt. “Go on, boy,” he murmured to the dog, who was sitting, vibrating in place as he waited for the command to abandon ship. With a celebrational bark, Simon leaped into the water and swam to shore. “As it turns out, he’s right. Winter wasn’t too hard and the water’s warming up. We’ll pull in plenty. Should be a good day.”

Leaning over the side, he pulled up a crab pot that dangled from the dock. “No winter hair.”

“Hair, why would there be hair in an old chicken wire box?”

“Pot. It’s a crab pot. If I pulled this up and it was hairy—full of blond seaweed—it’d mean the water was too cold yet for crabs. Seen them that way, nearly into May, if there’s been a bad winter. That kind of spring, it’s hard to make a living on the water.”

“But not this spring, because the water’s warm enough for crabs.”

“Seems to be. You can bait this pot later—chicken necks or fish parts do the job fine—and in the morning we
may just find us a couple of crabs sulking inside. They fall for it every time.”

Seth knelt down, wanting a closer look. “That’s pretty stupid. They look like big ugly bugs, so I guess they’re bug-dumb.”

“Just more hungry than smart, I’d say.”

“And Cam says you boil them alive. No way I’m eating those.”

“Suit yourself. Me, I figure on going through about two dozen come tomorrow night.” He let the pot slip back into the water, then leaped expertly from boat to dock.

“Grace was here. She cleaned the house and stuff.”

“Yeah?” He imagined the house would smell lightly of lemon. Grace’s house always did.

“Cam kissed her, right on the mouth.”

Ethan stopped walking, looked down at Seth’s face. “What?”

“Smackaroo. It made her laugh. It was like a joke, I guess.”

“Like a joke, sure.” He shrugged and ignored the hard, sick ball in his gut. None of his business who Grace kissed. Nothing to do with him. But he found his jaw clenched when Cam, hair dripping, stepped out on the back porch.

“How’s the crab business looking?”

“It’ll do,” Ethan said shortly.

Cam lifted his brows at the tone. “What, did one crawl out of the pot early and up your butt?”

“I want a shower and a beer.” Ethan moved past him and into the house.

“Woman’s coming for dinner tomorrow.”

That stopped Ethan again, and he turned, keeping the screen door between them. “Who?”

“Anna Spinelli.”

“Shit,” was Ethan’s only comment as he walked away.

“Why’s she coming? What does she want?” Panic rose up inside Seth like a fountain and spewed out in his voice before he could stop it.

“She’s coming because I asked her, and she wants a
crab dinner.” Cam tucked his thumbs in his pockets, rocked back on his heels. Why the hell was he the one who always had to handle this white-faced fear? “I figure she wants to see if all we do around here is fart and scratch and spit. We can probably hold off on that for one evening. You gotta remember to put the toilet seat down, though. Women really hate when you don’t. They make it a social and political statement if you leave it up. Go figure.”

Some of the tension eased out of Seth’s face. “So, she’s just, like, coming to see if we’re slobs. And Grace cleaned everything up and you’re not cooking, so it’s mostly okay.”

“It’ll be more than mostly if you watch that foul mouth of yours.”

“Yours is just as foul.”

“Yeah, but you’re shorter than I am. And I don’t intend to ask you to pass the fucking potatoes in front of her.”

Seth snorted at that, and his rock-hard shoulders relaxed. “Are you going to tell her about that shit in school today?”

Cam blew out a breath. “Practice finding an alternate word for ‘shit,’ just for tomorrow night. Yeah, I’m going to tell her what happened in school. And I’m telling her that Phil and Ethan and I went in with you tomorrow to deal with it.”

This time all Seth could do was blink. “All of you? You’re all going?”

“That’s right. Like I said, you mess with one Quinn, you mess with them all.”

It shocked and appalled and terrified them both when tears sprang to Seth’s eyes. They swam there for a moment, blurring that deep, bright blue. Instantly both of them stuck their hands in their pockets and turned away.

“I have to do . . . something,” Cam said, groping. “You go . . . wash your hands or whatever. We’ll be eating pretty soon.”

Just as he worked up the nerve to turn, intending to lay a hand on Seth’s shoulder, to say something that would
undoubtedly make them both feel like idiots, the boy darted inside and rushed through the kitchen.

Cam pressed his fingers to his eyes, massaged his temples, dropped his arms. “Jesus, I’ve got to get back to a race where I know what I’m doing.” He took a step toward the door, then shook his head and walked quickly away from it. He didn’t want to go inside with all that emotion, all that need, swirling in the air.

God, what he wanted was his freedom back, to wake up and find it had all been a dream. Better, to wake up in some huge, anonymous hotel bed in some exotic city with a hot, naked woman beside him.

But when he tried to picture it, the bed was the same one he slept in now, and the woman was Anna.

As a substitute it wasn’t such a bad deal, but . . . it didn’t make the rest of it go away. He glanced up at the windows of the second floor as he walked around the house. The kid was up there, pulling himself together. And he was out here, trying to do the same thing.

The look the kid had shot him, Cam thought, just before things got sloppy. It had stirred up his gut. He’d have sworn he’d seen trust there, and a pathetic, almost desperate gratitude that both humbled and terrified him.

What the hell was he going to do with it? And when things settled down and he could pick up his own life again . . . That had to happen, he assured himself. Had to. He couldn’t stay in charge like this. Couldn’t be expected to live like this forever. He had places to go, races to run, risks to take.

Once they had everything under control, once they did what needed to be done for the kid and got this business Ethan wanted established, he’d be free to come and go as he pleased again.

A few more months, he decided, maybe a year, then he was out of here. No one could possibly expect more from him.

Not even himself.

V
ICE PRINCIPAL MOORFIELD studied the three men who stood like a well-mortared wall in her office. The outward appearance would never indicate they were brothers. One wore a trim gray suit and perfectly knotted tie, another a black shirt and jeans, and the third faded khakis and a wrinkled denim work shirt.

But she could see that at the moment they were as united as triplets in the womb.

“I realize you have busy schedules. I appreciate all of you coming in this morning.”

“We want to get this straightened out, Mrs. Moorefield.” Phillip kept a mild, negotiating smile on his face. “Seth needs to be in school.”

“I agree. After Seth’s statement yesterday, I did some checking. It does appear as though Robert instigated the incident. There does seem to be some question over the motivation. The matter of the petty extortion—”

Cam held up a hand. “Seth, did you tell this Robert character to give you a dollar?”

“Nah.” Seth tucked his thumbs in his front pockets, as he’d seen Cam do. “I don’t need his money. I don’t even talk to him unless he gets in my face.”

Cam looked back at Mrs. Moorefield. “Seth says he aced that test and Robert flunked. Is that right?”

The vice principal folded her hands on her desk. “Yes. The test papers were handed back yesterday just before the end of class, and Seth received the highest grade. Now—”

“Seems to me,” Ethan interrupted in a quiet voice, “that Seth told you straight, then. Excuse me, ma’am, but if the other boy lied about some of it, could be he’s lying about all of it. Seth says the boy came after him, and he did. He said it was about this test, so I figure it is.”

“I’ve considered that, and I tend to agree with you, Mr. Quinn. I’ve spoken with Robert’s mother. She’s no happier than you are about this incident, or about the fact that both boys are to be suspended.”

“You’re not suspending Seth.” Cam planted his feet. “Not over this—not without a fight.”

“I understand how you feel. However, blows were exchanged. Physical violence can’t be permitted here.”

“I’d agree with you, Mrs. Moorefield, under most circumstances.” Phillip laid a hand on Cam’s arm to prevent him from stepping forward. “However, Seth was being physically and verbally attacked. He defended himself. There should have been a teacher monitoring the hallway during the change of classes. He should have been able to depend on an adult, on the system to protect him. Why didn’t one come forward to do so?”

Moorefield puffed out her cheeks, blew out a breath. “That’s a reasonable question, Mr. Quinn. I won’t start weeping to you about budget cuts, but it’s impossible, with a staff of our size, to monitor all the children at all times.”

“I sympathize with your problem, but Seth shouldn’t have to pay for it.”

“There’s been a rough time recently,” Ethan put in. “I don’t figure that kicking the boy out of school for a couple days is going to help him any. Education’s supposed to be more than learning—leastways that’s how we were taught. It’s supposed to help build your character and help teach
you how to get on in the world. If it tells you that you get booted for doing what you had to, for standing up for yourself, then something’s wrong with the system.”