Starlight Dunes (4 page)

All Brent Cody
saw when he rounded the ridge was the sexy way the raven-haired beauty wiggled her butt to get the best shot.

Ethan saw it, too.
They both tilted their heads in the way of brothers, taking in the woman’s long, lean tanned legs, the slender build, the athletic way she moved. Tall, at least five-nine in the hiking boots she had on, she wore olive-green shorts and a white button-down shirt. Her cinnamon skin caught Brent’s attention and held.

Ethan
elbowed him in a tender rib and said, “Whatcha lookin’ at there, bro?”

“
Same thing you are. You didn’t mention the body or the hair. You said she was smart. I thought—”

Ethan laughed.
“I know what you thought. She’s hot all right. Apparently Dad didn’t mention it either. Or Mom, which is unusual. Like what you see, do you? Good. That means you aren’t dead below the waist.”

“The equipment works
just fine, thanks.”

“Glad to hear it,” Ethan said,
tapping Brent again on his sore shoulder. Then all at once with a gleam in his eye, Ethan pivoted the stroller on two wheels, heading in the opposite direction. Without warning, he put his fingers between his teeth. Before Brent could stop him, Ethan let go a loud wolf-whistle the entire beach crowd had no trouble hearing over the sound of the surf.

Brent rolled his eyes. “Do you ever intend to grow up?
Do I need to remind you that you’re married?”

“
Hey, it’s not for me. I got a woman. That’s how I got the kid. I’m just trying to light a fire under my big brother here in the romance department. And you’re a little slow. Besides, four’s a crowd,” Ethan shouted over his shoulder as he ducked around the nearest sand dune and started hot footing it away, knowing full well Brent couldn’t keep up if he wanted to.

With his injury Brent was left standing there to take the heat. And he didn’t have to wait long.

By this time, the female above him with the dark hair and great body glanced down from her perch to find him staring up at her.

Like any
damned fool, Brent leaned on his cane and did the only thing he could.

He
stuck his hand in the air and waved to River Amandez.

A
t the sound of the loud two-note whistle, River’s head snapped up. She glared at the tall man standing below her on the stingy strip of concrete causeway. River eyed his bronze skin, the black hair, the unmistakable Native American heritage. His lanky frame leaned on a cane that he clutched like a lifeline. It looked as though he’d hobbled to this point. The sheen of sweat on his brow told her the effort had taken a lot out of him.

Good-looking
aside, this wasn’t the first gawker she’d had to shoo off from her dig before it ever got started. So she would nip it in the bud now.

Bac
king away from the rocky ground she inched down the side of the embankment a little at a time, ducked under the security rope to where he stood. All the while the ocean air between them pulsed with an equal measure of curiosity and mutual interest.

“I’m
River Amandez. I’m in charge of this site and you really shouldn’t be hanging around here. The cliffs are unstable and off-limits for the next few months,” she explained, looping the strap over her head so the camera dangled around her neck. “See the barrier? It’s there for a reason.”

Gutsy
, Brent decided as he cocked his head to peruse her from head to toe. “Beautiful name. River. Suits you. I hear you’re Pueblo from somewhere in the Southwest, right?” When she looked slightly puzzled, he added, “It’s a small town. Word spreads like wildfire about any newcomer,” he said, extending his hand. “Brent Cody.”

T
he name sunk in. “Cody? Ah. Then you’re Marcus and Lindeen’s oldest.” Before he could answer, she grinned and tossed back, “It’s a small town. Plus, your parents and I shared a car driving down to Santa Barbara last weekend. You were a major topic of conversation.”

Brent grimaced, shook his head. “Please don’t tell me my mother hinted at getting us together.”

“Ah, no. Actually Lindeen made it known several times you had your eye on an attractive first-grade teacher. I believe her name was Julianne or maybe it was Julie. I forget which.”

Brent rolled his eyes and
felt the rush of humiliation go straight to his cheeks. He shook his head. “Julianne, a neighbor of my mother’s. She’s been trying to hook either my brother or me up with Julianne Dickinson since they first got to know each other at a book club some years back. Ethan’s off her radar now because he’s married. She’s the bane of my existence. My mother, not Julianne. She’s made it her life’s work to interfere and embarrass me with every woman she happens to come across.”

“Your mother, not Juli
anne,” River echoed with a grin.

“Exactly.
And to think you drove hundreds of miles with her in a confined space with no way to escape. You should probably get an award for that.”

River
chuckled and studied his face, the stubble along his jawline and chin where he hadn’t shaved. “Are you okay? Do you need to get off your feet or something? You look drained.” Prepared to grab for the bottle of water in her pack around her waist, she kept her eyes locked on his, eyes so brown they were almost black.

He bristled at her concerned tone. “I’m fine.”

River
’s lips curved, recognizing the prickly quills attached to male pride. She decided the topic of his mother was a lot safer. “So your mom loves to play matchmaker every chance she gets, huh? She does love to talk about her sons. According to your mother, your younger brother, Ethan, is the next Michael Connelly.”

“
See, that sounds like Mom. It was only last month Ethan released his second book. It’s doing pretty well though.”

“There’s a bookstore in town
, Hidden Moon Bay Books. I’ll make sure I stop in to support the local author while I’m here.”

“
I’m sure he’d appreciate that. His wife, Hayden, owns the place.”

“
Ah. That small-town atmosphere again. Makes sense. What happened to you? Were you in a car accident?” She saw the irritation come into his eyes at the question. She found it strange that during a five-hundred-mile round trip, his parents had never once mentioned that their son had been injured.

“
No.”

“You might as well tell me,” she prodded. “Otherwise I’ll just ask Nick or Jordan when I get back to
the B & B tonight. It’s been my experience it’s better to hear things from the source.”

Reluctant to divulge his
own troubles, he grumbled, “My house blew up.”

Her mouth
dropped open. “A gas explosion? That’s rare.”

“Not exactly.”

Realization began to dawn. Cop. House going boom. “Someone tried to kill you? Here in Pelican Pointe?”

“Santa Cruz.
”

“Right.
Do you know who’s responsible yet?”

“Not a clue
. So where does River call home?” Brent wondered, hoping to get the focus off him.

River
spread her arms out. “For the next several months right here in Pelican Pointe will do just fine. For me, right this minute that means Promise Cove is home.”

Brent wrinkled a brow.
“No, I mean where do you call home? Where is your home base when you aren’t in the field? Where were you born? Where do you vote? That sort of thing.”

Impatience
crawled up her throat. Even for a cop the barrage was a little much for a get-to-know-you conversation. “Do you always insist on grilling every person you meet right upfront?” She didn’t give him time to answer. Instead she put both hands on her hips and added, “I have no outstanding warrants, no unpaid traffic tickets, and I’ve never been to the West Coast before this trip. But if you must know, my driver’s license was issued in New Mexico.” Because she wasn’t about to offer more, she added, “You savvy?”

He understood attitude,
often displayed it himself but when it flared so fast in those chocolate eyes of hers it sucked him right in. Because he itched to reach out and touch her hair, he switched gears. “How are they treating you out at the B & B? Settling in okay?”

“
No complaints. The accommodations are first-rate. Once my staff gets here on Monday though, I’ll be moving out of the comfy surroundings and into the RV we always set up as our base for the duration of a dig.”

“Really?”
Brent turned his head to stare across Ocean Street. “There isn’t really a good place to park an RV hereabouts. They make exceptions for parades and street fairs of course, but you’d have to have a special permit for anything longer than three days.”

“Nick
Harris, the owner of the B & B, gave us permission to use the farm next door to his place for as long as we’re here.”

“I think I might be able to arrange for you to use the empty lot over at the old newspaper office,
the one across from the Fanning Marine Rescue Center. That way you’d be closer to the site.”

“
You mean the building where the side is painted with all the faces of the women, the mural? Sure. Thanks, that’d be great, I appreciate it.”

“No problem.
”

“What’s that about anyway, the mural?”

“I’m not sure a newcomer is ready to hear about the town’s sordid past but since you’re here… Last month we caught a serial killer.”

“
No kidding. In Pelican Pointe? Wait. If you’re trying to scare me off, you’ll have to do better than that. I’m not the type who responds to campfire stories about axe murderers and then goes running back to where I came from screaming like a girl.”

Brent raised one brow.
No, she didn’t seem the type who frightened easily. “What’s scarier than a serial killer who preyed on young women for two decades before he got caught? Those women you see depicted on the side of the building are his victims. The artist, Logan Donnelly, isn’t finished with it yet though. His sister was one of Knudsen’s earliest victims.”

“
Okay, so you aren’t just saying that to put me off the area. Do you mean
the
Logan Donnelly? The sculptor is here in Pelican Pointe painting a mural on the side of an old building?”

“
The case was all over the Internet. And Logan makes his home here now. He’s married to Kinsey Wyatt, our resident attorney. He has workers remodeling the lighthouse, refurbishing the keeper’s house.” Brent nodded toward the bluff. “Have you seen it at night? Logan even replaced the old drum lens and installed a state-of-the-art aero beacon that beams out a white light every ten seconds. After so many years, we have ourselves a lighthouse that actually works now.”

“
I’ll be damned. I did notice it, hard not to. I thought it was so cool in this day and time. Saw the busy workmen too as I drove by. I thought it might be a state project though, grant-funded, like the dig. Besides, I’ve been a little busy over the summer burrowing around through marshland and up to my ass in mosquitoes to keep up with serial killers and what’s happening three thousand miles away.”

She didn’t intend to mention that
most times back in Alabama getting on the Internet was a luxury she used for one specific purpose only. Instead she merely said, “Where we were we didn’t always have cell service let alone access to the Internet.”

“
That must get annoying when you’re trying to keep in touch with family. Most people these days can’t go five hours without tapping into social media or texting.”

“That’s true but most locations where we dig are way out in the boonies
, miles away from everything else. Pelican Pointe is unique that way. The dig’s right here in town and Nick Harris sees to it that the B & B has high-speed Internet. I love it.”

“
Nick and Jordan aim to please. Look, there will obviously have to be security here at night. Have you thought of that? Otherwise you’ll get looters willing to sell whatever they take away on the open market. Some bold ones even resort to using eBay.”

“
Sad but true. I wouldn’t be offended if you put the word out that I’ll press charges on anyone who dares remove relics or anything they find here—been on too many digs not to think about security—Marcus promised me he had it covered though.”

Brent scratched the
scruffy growth on his chin. “Huh. Wonder who the old man intends to rope into doing that?” But he had a sinking feeling he already knew the answer to that.