Pier Lights (6 page)

And he threw it away on drunk women at the
strip club.

Like she was one to talk. What was she
doing?

Dio. Sandy called him Dio. And now he had a
name, too. He was too human, too real. She didn’t want him to be
real. Real ruined everything.

Dio. Like the band?
The
Holy Diver
band? Was that where he got his stage name? If so, why did he
not use the music? She made Hayes allow her own music from the
beginning. Surely he could do the same.

Maybe he was more showman than fighter.
Maybe he didn’t have it in him to buck Hayes to get what he
wanted.

Too much reality. It was all blown out of
the water now.

Lina took her shoes off and treaded along
where the waves could brush up on her feet. He’d ruined it. She
called off to spend the day at the beach, to brush it off, to swim
and sun and swim more and maybe to talk to someone. She hadn’t done
any of it. She’d walked along the shore. She sat on the pier and
looked out. She couldn’t get in the water.

Allowing the waves to splash her feet was
the most she could make herself do.

He ruined it. Typical man.

~9~

Caroline stretched her arms over her head
and debated whether to get up. It was after ten. She wouldn’t
normally let herself sleep so late, but she had nowhere to be,
during the day, or tonight. Maybe she would try to change her
schedule to work only on the four days he didn’t. But she supposed
that wouldn’t be the way to move up in the business, to get a
raise. Although a different career might be an option. Anything
else. Anything that didn’t relate to dance, that didn’t make her
mourn what she should still have. Caroline supposed that wasn’t
possible. She could get away from him, though. From Dio. She adored
his name, fake as she expected it was.

Maybe she would spend the day job hunting. A
day job would allow her the time at night to wander the beach and
watch him from a distance. And it wouldn’t make her foot ache. At
least if she found the right job, it wouldn’t.

With a sigh, Caroline rolled out of bed and
gave herself a moment to let her foot realize she would put weight
on it soon. She had to start slow. Otherwise, it would crumple out
from underneath her.

Sitting on the edge of her bed, she put some
weight on it, raised to her toes, felt the sharp pain and ignored
it, rolled back down to flat, pressed the ball into the floor and
gritted her teeth, then returned it to flat. Waited. Got up
carefully. Tested it.

She was glad it held today. More often than
not now that she’d started to dance again, it didn’t. She had to
sit down, wait longer, massage it, try to convince the foot it was
fine.

“There you are.”

The lamb bleated at Dio from down a deep
ravine. The thing didn’t get up at the sight of him. Dio sighed. It
was probably injured.

Hooking his rope around a nearby tree, he
made his way down to the little beast and checked out his legs.
“Come on, stand up now.” He tried to help it up. It stood, started
to walk, sat again. Not a bad injury, he figured, since it had the
ability to walk but not the interest.

Dio scanned the ravine from his new angle.
Getting the creature back up on solid ground wouldn’t be easy. Good
thing it was a young creature. “Up.” He pushed it to its feet
again, shoved his head beneath the beast’s underside, and wrapped
the thing over his shoulders. Good thing Dio had big shoulders.
They occasionally were put to better use than to let women
leer.

With the extra length of rope, he tied the
legs together, careful with the one the lamb favored, and made his
way back to the rope around the tree. He had to keep one hand on
the animal since the thing fidgeted and bleated in his ear. Stupid
creature. Dio had half a thought to just leave it be if it wanted
to be so obstinate.

He wouldn’t, of course.

Wrapping the tree-held rope around his arm
several times, he started up the hill, pulling himself with the one
hand and gripping the lamb’s wool at his neck in the other.

At the top, he dropped to his knees and
wrapped the rope over the creature’s neck. It sat again. Dio caught
his breath and gave his muscles time to relax. He pulled the
leather work gloves off to survey his palm where the rope bit into
it. Red but otherwise well enough. If not for the foresight to wear
his gloves when he went to hunt for the little beast, it would have
been blistered. Again. It happened. Made it hard to use his sword
well that way. But he’d done it.

He tried again to get the creature to stand.
It took several steps then sat again. With a heavy sigh, Dio got it
back to its feet and shoved the thing over his shoulders. It was
easier to keep it still with the rope around its neck and its legs.
Still, it was a long walk back to the fenced pasture.

Damn good thing it wasn’t a work night. Dio
was spent by the time he got back and put the lamb in a separate
stall. He’d have to wrap the leg and keep an eye on the thing and
hope it would heal. It was young. It wasn’t badly hurt. It should
heal.

Caroline should have taken her car. She’d
spent a couple of hours wandering Folly Beach looking for other job
opportunities. A couple of cashier positions were open, but
standing so long would be as hard on her foot as stripping and it
paid far less. She wouldn’t see Dio there, though. Or if she did,
he’d be dressed in regular clothes and without the mask, she
assumed, so she might not know him.

She rolled her eyes at herself. She would
know him.

When her stomach growled, she grabbed a
sandwich and walked down to the Pirate Cove playground to relax on
the wood bench around the big oak tree. It was a school day, she
realized, which explained so few kids on the premises. A couple of
little ones were there with their mothers but they were too small
to climb up inside the big white and blue play boat. They did crawl
through the little tunnel and run around in a half circle to crawl
through again from the same side like Follow The Leader. Their
mothers talked to each other. Old friends, Caroline assumed. She
could almost see herself someday standing and chatting with a
friend while her kid ran up in the play boat and climbed across the
horizontal ladder.

She rolled her eyes at herself again. She
was more suited to be a pirate’s wench than a mommy.

With her sandwich gone and her foot slightly
rested, Caroline got up to wander along the murals that depicted
Charleston’s pirate history. When she was young, she used to dream
of being a pirate, of living out in the water on a huge ship.
Instead, she became a ballerina. At this point, she wasn’t sure
there was a hell of a lot of difference.

~10~

After the long drive into Columbia and back
for his monthly supply restocking, Dio was half glad he didn’t have
to work tonight, but only half. Lina worked tonight. He could go in
and... No. He couldn’t, not without his costume, and he was too
easy to spot in costume.

He checked on his mom and was disheartened
to hear her cough was worse. The time she spent each day in bed to
“regain her strength” hadn’t worked. He assured her the trip was
fine, argued again that he did not want to drive the fifteen
minutes into Charleston instead to make it easier on himself since
it was too close to home, and said he picked up more of her white
tea with raspberry and would go put the water on to simmer.

The only local place he stopped was a farm
down the road where they already knew him and where few others
shopped and those few others were used to him. He often picked up
their homemade honey and jam along with the milk and bread and
cheese they stocked in their little convenience store.

As the tea simmered, Dio put the rest of the
groceries away and added a large teaspoon of honey to a delicate
lightweight tea cup. Adding the tea, he stirred it well and took it
to her.

“Diomedes, dear. Give me a hand up, if you
would. And sit with me to tell me about your day.”

She coughed as he helped her sit and propped
a pillow behind her back. It was a deep rattling cough. He would
have to call the doctor in. She’d told him every day not to bother,
it would only cost money they didn’t need to spend on a little
cough, and that if it was time, it was time and he shouldn’t worry
about it.

Easy for her to say, Dio supposed. She
wouldn’t be the one left alone with a farm he didn’t want to run
but couldn’t get rid of. And he had work to do. But it would have
to wait.

~11~

Caroline knew he saw her. His movements
paused. He looked her direction. Unmoving. As though he wanted
to... But why would he? The way he was built, the talent he had,
the amount of girls trying to get to him after each show at the
club ... why would he want her? A washed up ballerina turned
stripper.

And yet he watched her.

Slowly, he returned to his dangerous dance.
Slow easy graceful gyrations. Large round sensual circles of
flashing sword. She treaded closer, felt the water splash her
ankles. It did nothing to cool the heat she felt as he quickened
his pace, his face still directed her way, or she let herself think
it was. She hadn’t seen him in nearly a week and was amazed by how
she’d missed just looking at him, being almost in his presence.

She walked in farther. His thrusts
softened.

Caroline pulled her sarong up away from her
thighs where it barely covered her bikini, felt the wet chill on
her knees. His sword made slow circles in front of his body. She
waded farther until the water splashed her inner thighs. Undeterred
by the cold soft waves, she continued, and pulled the sarong all
the way off to drape around her neck.

He stopped.

She went farther.

He set the sword down and crouched to the
bottom of the boat.

She was now waist deep and the water chilled
her, contrasted with the warmth he’d brought out from her. He
dipped his head, pulled something over it. His mask. From his
costume. Why?

Edging in slowly, cautious of drop off
points in the mossy slimy shifting sand below her feet, Caroline
let the water circle her rib cage and stopped. Called check. She
wasn’t sure if she wanted him to call check mate or retreat. He was
beautiful. He was sensually exotically madly beautiful. She didn’t
want to lose that image.

He picked up the oars.

She held still.

Slowly, he dipped them into the water.

Caroline’s heart stilled as she waited to
see whether he would ebb or flow, come or leave, accept her
challenge or retreat.

He stroked lightly. The boat moved toward
her.

Moonlight lit his shoulders as they surged
with his movement. He was close enough now she would be able to see
his face if it wasn’t covered. She wished it wasn’t. She wanted to
see him. She wanted to see all of him.

He stopped.

The cold of the water sank into her flesh,
deep down into her body. “So close and yet so far.” She called out
to him.

“You work at the club.”

“So do you.”

He held still. Studied her.

“I love boats.” She added to the
challenge.

“I love dancers.”

“Strippers, you mean?”

“No. I mean dancers. What they do with it, I
don’t much care.”

She grinned. “Come this way farther. My
sarong will get wet if I come all the way to you.”

“My boat will hit bottom if I come all the
way to you.”

She took a couple more steps until the water
was just below her breasts, unwrapped the sarong, and held it over
her head. With both hands. As though in surrender mode.

Maybe she was.

He rowed closer.

She took a couple more steps. The water
splashed up onto her breasts.

He edged slightly closer, enough she could
nearly reach the boat, but not quite. “I’ll ground myself if I go
in farther.”

“I guess that’s the end of our game then,
isn’t it?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“I don’t want my sarong wet. I need it to
wrap in for the walk home.”

“You live close.”

“Yes. Why did you put your mask on when I
walked toward you?”

“Why did you walk toward me?”

“Curiosity.”

“About my sword.”

“Yes. About your sword. And the way you use
it. But my arms are getting tired so I’ll have to call it a night.”
She stepped backward.

“Lina.” He moved to the front of his boat
and stuck his sword out, above the water, close enough she could
touch it if she dared. “Wrap your sarong around it and I’ll bring
it into the boat.”

Check mate. He’d called it.

She hesitated. How would she get it back out
again dry? Did she want this risk? She knew nothing of him. She
wanted to know nothing of him. And yet...

Carefully, she lowered her arms and stepped
out close enough to his sword to wrap the sarong so it wouldn’t
fall off.

He pulled it in, unwrapped it carefully so
he wouldn’t cut the delicate fabric, and reached out a hand.
“Coming in?”

“Sure you have room for me? It’s a small
boat.”

“Not nearly as small as it seems from out
there.”

Lina figured if she was going to do it, she
should do it all the way. She dove under the water and came up
right beside him. Her hair was down and she had to brush it out of
her face. He offered his arms. She accepted. It was an awkward way
to get on a boat but they managed it well enough.

He handed her a towel as she sat on the wood
plank seat facing him. So far he sat still and respected the
distance. She supposed that was a good sign. She sopped her hair
then mopped her body. Slowly. Seductively, she hoped. She pressed
it against her breasts, lowered it to her stomach, ran it over her
legs, and rested it on her lap. He followed every movement but he
still held his distance.