Severed Threads (4 page)

Using both hands, she shoved hard against his taut chest, but he rocked right back in place. He grabbed hold of her wrists and pulled her in close. "You have every right to be angry," he said quietly. "But there was a good reason why I stayed away. Why I never called you."

An involuntary shiver ran up her spine. She averted her gaze toward the marina, wishing the drifting fog could shield her from his soul-searching gaze. She didn’t want him to see how broken she’d become. Or how much, deep inside, she had never stopped yearning for his touch.

"It had nothing to do with you and me," he insisted.

She stepped back, breaking his grip. "It
still
doesn’t." Venom dripped from her words.

Chase nodded slowly. "Maybe not. But right now, I need this job. More than you know." His blue eyes intensified. "What will it take for us to get past everything? An apology? You have it. My promise to stay clear of you? Done."

His words reminded her how easy it was for him to dismiss her. She’d been such a fool in allowing his charm to blind her. He obviously cared about no one but himself. And deep down inside, no matter how hard she had tried to dismiss it, they both shared the blame in her father’s death. Nothing would change that.

She drew in a deep breath. “There is
one
thing that will make me feel better."

His face relaxed. "You name it. Anything you want."

She pulled back her arm and swung with all her might. Her palm connected with his cheek so hard it stung her hand to the bone.

"Damn!" He grabbed his face, wincing from the blow.

She pressed her palms together, nursing her own pain, and addressed him again.

"I’ve wanted to do that for a
long
time. If you think you can just show up and expect me to – ”

Before she could finish, he pulled her into his arms. His lips found hers, launching a current through her veins. The parking lot was spinning out of control and he was the driving force. Her legs quivered, leaving her unsteady on her feet. When he finally lifted his head, she leaned against him, breathless, betrayed by her body’s weakened state.

His warm breath brushed her cheek, lifting tiny hairs on her skin. "And I’ve wanted to do
that
," he whispered raggedly, "from the first moment I saw you in Doc’s office."

Of course. His agenda.
Her senses sobered. She distanced herself and firmed her tone. "Nice try. But you’re still not getting a dime from me."

Chase bent his head and seemed to be strategizing his next move. When he looked up, his crystal eyes chipped away at her soul. "For what it’s worth, Rachel, I really am sorry...for everything. Should’ve said that a long time ago." He rubbed the back of his neck. An emotion resembling disappointment crossed his face. "Believe me, I would’ve stuck around if I could have."

She was surprised by his show of sincerity. But nothing he could say would lessen the pain she still felt from him abandoning her when she needed him most.

She jutted out her chin. "It was just a summer fling. A mistake from beginning to end. We should have ended it like adults, is all."

Her final words hung in the air. A nerve jumped at his temple. "I didn’t know you felt that way," he said.

Chase’s kiss still simmered on her lips. His nearness threatened her reserve. It wasn’t in her to be cruel, but she’d been hurt far too long to back down now.

"So…now you do." The lie tasted bitter in her mouth.

Chase’s eyes darkened. He gave a rueful nod. "Good thing we got that cleared up. Wouldn’t want to make any more mistakes."

As he strutted toward his truck, anger gathered in Rachel’s chest. Anger over his words, his deeds, his presumptuous kiss. Over the fact that for a split second, he had made
her
feel like the bad guy. Her mind threw daggers at his back. "Damn you, Chase Cohen."

She slid inside her silver Kia and slammed the car door grateful the museum’s security guard was now watching from a distance. If he hadn’t been, she might have acted on a homicidal impulse and run Chase over, the manipulating jerk.

In fact, it made her feel better just to imagine it.

Three

Chase pulled the heavy wooden door shut behind him and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Through the white spots dancing in his vision, he made his way toward the towheaded helmsman, Ian Lowe. Two months after leaving San Palo, they’d miraculously crossed paths and ended up working on one of the largest salvage operations in the West Indies. But now they were back in the States, more determined than ever to make it on their own.

As was his usual practice, Ian was parked at the far end of the bar, beside the swinging kitchen doors. Chase dropped onto the barstool next to him.

"Whiskey," he called to the female bartender, who was busy pulling bottles off the top shelf. Under present circumstances, he’d be wise to hold onto the few measly dollars clinging to the inside of his pocket. But thanks to his unexpected run-in with Rachel, the need to quench his thirst won out.

Ian’s shoulders remained slightly hunched as he rocked a raw egg back and forth in his half-filled beer mug – a crude remedy for his apparent hangover. His heavy-browed eyes studied Chase. "Didn’t go well, I take it?" The gravel in his brogue suggested he’d come straight from bed to the Crow’s Nest Bar.

"An understatement," Chase muttered. "You won’t believe this, but Rachel Lyons was there. Just as stubborn as ever." A glance around the room reassured him no one in the musty bar had the slightest interest in their exchange. To his left, a young couple was sharing pancakes. In the corner, a scrawny guy was typing away. And scattered about were leather-faced fishermen who appeared to be leftovers from the previous night.

By the time he turned back around, Ian had finished his drink. "Gimme another pint of wet stuff, darlin’," he sang out.

"Be right with you two," Naomi McKenzie tossed over her shoulder. She inched her way down the ladder.

"And how
is
Miss Lyons these days?" Ian asked.

"Let’s just say I don’t know anyone who can leave an impression like her." Chase massaged his cheekbone while working his jaw. No doubt the blow she’d delivered was well deserved. Still, he was glad he’d stolen a kiss before she’d trampled his ego.

"Ah, so ya finally fessed up."

"She didn’t want to hear any of it." And personally, he didn’t have the stomach to unload on her. Not with her brother Devon holding a world of secrets over his head. Secrets that no woman, especially Rachel, could possibly understand.

Ian pursed his lips, clearly working up more bum advice about women.

Chase quickly steered him away from the subject. "So where’d you end up spending the night?"

"Down Whistler, acting the maggot. The skirt’s husband was supposed to be gone for a good two days. Ended up climbin’ out a window with me pants in tow. Swear I heard a trigger cock as I was roundin’ the corner at Main."

"Shit, I hope you’re not leading any of those guys back to my boat."

Ian scratched his grizzled face then slapped Chase on the back with his meaty palm. "Maybe I should. We could knock ‘em out and shake ‘em for change."

A smile tugged the corner of Chase’s mouth.

"That is, unless you’ve got a better plan, Cap'n."

"I wish the hell I did," Chase grumbled. "
Alegria’s
pump’s busted, fuel’s nearly gone. Won’t be long before someone slides right under us." He released a sharp breath and stared down at the bracelet on his wrist. Christ, he’d give anything to stop thinking about money and his fledgling business for one lousy day.

"Ah, no point mopin’ about, mate. Go to yer woman. Convince her to change her mind. With her company’s money, we’d be back on the water in – "

"Not an option," Chase cut in. Although, he couldn’t deny wanting any excuse to have to see her again.

The day she’d walked into her father’s office, grinning over new algae she had discovered, he’d found himself completely captivated. Sure, she was smart and sexy and drop-dead gorgeous, with her long cinnamon hair and moist kiss-me-now lips. But it was the depth in her hazel eyes that arrested his thoughts, making it impossible to throw two coherent words together. Then she shook his hand, and the softness of her skin had melted away every last ounce of tension.

Too bad he went and screwed it all up. Just like everything in his life.

"With gobshite bankers avoidin’ us like the bloody plague," Ian persisted, "what other remedy is there?" He leaned far back in his seat, oblivious to Naomi who was now standing behind him, trying to access the kitchen.

She shifted the cumbersome tray in her arms. "Ian, sit up. You’re blocking the door."

A twinkle gleamed in Ian’s green eyes as they latched onto the bartender’s ample cleavage. "Not at all, darlin’. Feel free to sit on me lap anytime, and rest that top heavy load of yours." He grinned, as if his retort was among the cleverest ever spoken.

"The only thing I’m gonna be giving your lap is a swift kick. Now, move it."

The threat was a powerful one. He immediately scooted his chair out of the way. "Was meant as a compliment, ya bleedin’ weapon."

Chase mentally applauded the gutsy broad.

She blew out a huff as she made her way past them. "Can’t you afford any better friends, Chase?"

"Not at the moment," he replied flatly.

The scrapper Chase had aligned himself with definitely had his flaws. His mischievous flirting and sexual promiscuity provided constant reminders why his wife and two sons had booted him from their home in Dublin ten years ago. Yet when it came to friendship, no one was more loyal or forgiving.

"Ya know, me friend, there
is
another way," Ian touted. "Was in Dolan’s Pub two nights ago, when this burly gent saddled alongside and offered to wet me whistle. Turned out to be a loan shark. Charges interest steep as bunkers. Still an’ all, I could convince him to give us a shot."

"Yeah, he’d give us a shot all right. In both kneecaps." Chase shook his head. "Just give me a few more days. I’ll come up with something. I always do." He spoke with confidence that didn’t extend past his words. His credit was tapped. Bill collectors would be calling again any day now. Everything he had was tied up in the sixty-foot Delta secured to the dock outside. If he sold the only thing he had of value, he’d forfeit a lucrative reward for the treasure that was sitting on the ocean floor – just out of his reach. But what were his options? At that moment, he’d sell his soul if there was a way to reel it back in.

Chase spotted the bartender chatting it up in a dark corner. "Naomi, did you forget us?" he called out.

The petite bartender sashayed back to her post. "Now how could I forget about you, sweetheart?" She flashed a smile before setting the fresh pint and amber shot glass before them.

Ian grinned. "Aren’t you joinin’ us, darlin’?"

"Too early for me." Naomi pushed her unruly red curls off her sweaty brow. She lifted a water bottle and sucked it down in nothing flat. Then she resumed her chores behind the bar. As Chase watched her with renewed interest, he recounted the first time he’d laid eyes on the plucky woman.

Macy’s Café.
Chase had joined Sam for a cup of coffee and found her waiting in the booth beside him. She ogled and fussed over the old man who was clearly twice her age. Although Chase had come there to discuss his job offer, for the better part of an hour she’d given both of them an earful. He’d never met anyone who took so much pride in the amount of gossip they could spout. Aside from Ian, anyway.

"So, today’s your birthday?" Chase quizzed.

Her smile brightened. "How’d you guess?"

He nodded toward the black t-shirt she wore. The white scripted words
Over the Hill
were stretched thin across her chest.

Ian nearly choked on his drink. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Here I thought you were advertising yer assets."