Sea Fever (26 page)

“Me, too,” he confessed.

She gaped at him. He kissed her open mouth until her lips warmed

and her body was soft and fluid, until her fingers tangled in his hair and

they almost bobbed back under the water.

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If he was going down, he was damn well taking her with him.

* * *

The grill hissed; the fryer belched steam. The smell of the hot grease

turned Regina’s stomach.

She pressed her lips together and drizzled olive oil over a piece of

swordfish. Baked potato, butter, broccoli, done.

“Order up,” she called.

Heat rolled from the pizza oven as Antonia slid out one medium

pepperoni-mushroom and slid in a large with clams.

Regina reached for another ticket. Two chowders, two pastas. She

ladled the soup into cups and added crackers.

Lucy grabbed the swordfish from the line, looking hot and harried.

“The dining room’s packed. Is dinner always like this?”

“Nope. Guess closing for a day was good for business.”

Antonia snorted and zipped the cutter over the pizza. “You getting

kidnapped was good for business. Every fool in town’s been in to have a

look at you.”

Regina shrugged. “They’re going to talk. They’ve got to eat. We

might as well make money.”

“They’re talking all right,” Antonia said a bit grimly. She set the

pizza on the pass and began shaping another crust.

Another cramp hit. Regina pressed the back of her hand to her

mouth, praying she wouldn’t be sick.

“Sit down before you fall down,” her mother snapped.

Regina swallowed and stirred the pasta bubbling on the cook top.

“I’m fine. Tired, that’s all.”

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“Tired, or pregnant?” Antonia asked.

Regina’s gaze jerked to hers.

Antonia nodded. “When were you going to tell me?”

Regina felt a pressure in the center of her chest like heartburn. Or

shame. She added shrimp to the chili peppers and tomatoes simmering on

the stove, stirring to coat them in the sauce. “I . . . Soon. I didn’t want you

to think . . . I feel so stupid.”

“Hm. When are you going to tell him?” Antonia pursed her lips

toward the dining room, where Dylan watched the door.

At least her mother didn’t have to ask who the father was.

“He already knows,” Regina said, covering the pan.

Antonia crossed her arms over her tomato-stained apron. “And?”

“And . . .” Regina sighed. “He’s still around.”

For now. She watched as Hercules wound through the dining room,

moving with unusual purpose for a feline, and butted his flat, broad head

against Dylan’s knee. Hungry for some sign of affection.

You and me both, cat.

“That’s something,” Antonia said.

Regina smiled weakly. It was, indeed, something. Dylan might be

out of his element and over his head, but he had not abandoned them. He

reached down absently and scratched Hercules under the jaw.

“He wanted us to go with him, you know,” Antonia said abruptly.

Regina stopped watching Dylan with the cat. “Excuse me?”

“Your father. He wanted me to sell out, pack up, and move with him

to the mainland, Baltimore or some damn place.”

Regina blinked and drained the pasta. “You never told me that.”

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She’d always thought her father hadn’t wanted them. Hadn’t wanted

her. Did it make a difference, after all these years, to learn otherwise?

“Maybe I didn’t want to admit it, that this place meant more to me

than he did. The security meant more to me than he did.” Antonia spread

sauce with the back of a spoon, her eyes on her work. “I don’t regret the

choices I’ve made in my life. Be a waste of time anyway. But I’ve

wondered sometimes what kind of example I set for you.”

Regina regarded her mother’s floured hands and strong, lined face.

Hands that had fed and disciplined her, nursed her and provided her with

a home and a living. “You’re a good mom,” she said. “You’re a great

example.”

“Ha,” Antonia said, but there was a pleased gleam in her eyes.

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean you have to follow it.”

Regina finished her plates and set them on the pass.

Dylan stalked through the crowded tables with the same elegance

and purpose as the cat, lean and dark and so good-looking Regina’s heart

did a foolish little dance in her chest.

“Take that pie,” Antonia said. “Table six.”

He looked at her blankly.

“Corner booth.”

“I’ve got it.” Lucy balanced the pizza, cutter, and cheese and headed

for the family of four in the booth by the door.

Dylan looked at Regina. “Have you seen Nick?”

His voice was low, his eyes serious.

She struggled for breath. “I . . . He’s in his room. Upstairs. I saw him

when I got home.”

“No, he’s not.”

Antonia set a floured hand on her hip. “And how would you know?

Cat told you?”

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Dylan’s gaze clashed with Regina’s. “Go check.”

Without a word, she turned and ran for the stairs.

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Seventeen

NICK SCUFFED HIS SNEAKERS ON THE ROAD, shooting

spurts of dust. He wasn’t going far. He didn’t want to scare his mom. Not

too much.

A little scare would serve her right. She’d scared him a lot.

Habit took him to the turn to Danny’s house. Nick ducked his head

and kept on walking. He didn’t even want to see Danny since he’d said

that thing about Nick’s mom.

Anyway, the Trujillos’ was the first place his mom would call

looking for him, and Nick wasn’t ready to be found yet. He wasn’t ready

to go back. There was nothing to do at home— when he turned on the

TV, it was all cooking shows and grown-ups yakking. Boring. Nick had

watched the cooking for a while, because it was his dad, but he wasn’t

really any more interested in his dad than his dad was in him. And

downstairs was just more cooking and more yakking and his mom with

those awful bruises around her neck.

Thinking about his mom’s bruises made Nick’s chest feel hot and

tight. He walked faster, not going anywhere, just . . . away.

His mom kept saying that everything was fine, kept pretending that

everything was normal. Which was bullshit, Nick thought, because if

things were really okay, if she was safe now, why did Chief Hunter keep

nosing around? And Dylan.

“I’m keeping an eye on your mother,” Dylan had said, his voice and

eyes serious, like a promise.

Hearing him say that had made Nick feel better, at least for a while.

Going out on the boat had made him feel better, too, in a different

way. It was quiet on the water, no grown-ups talking, no motor even, just

the rush of the wind and the waves white alongside the boat. For one

moment, when the boat turned and rocked and the sails filled and leaned,

Nick thought they were going to tip right into the water. He got goose

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bumps— the good kind— just thinking about it. And later, when they

were coming in, Dylan let him haul on the ropes and told him he’d done a

good job. That was cool.

Nick hunched his shoulders. Only maybe that was bullshit, too,

because Danny said . . .

Nick kicked at a rock, watching it bounce two, three times, before

skittering into a ditch.

Dylan was only being nice to him because he liked Nick’s mom.

Except that wasn’t true either, Nick thought, tucking his hands in his

pockets. Not all the way true. He felt the hard shape of the silver dollar

under his fingers. Dylan hadn’t asked for it, and Nick didn’t want to give

it back.

Ever since his mom disappeared, everything had been all mixed up.

He heard a car coming behind him and shifted to the side of the road.

He’d been so scared. Mad at her, too. Not that it was her fault, really.

He shuffled along. The car behind him was poking along like the

driver was afraid to pass. Which was stupid, because there were no cars

and nobody coming the other way. Nick stepped onto the grass and gravel

anyway because if he actually got hit by a car, he would really be in

trouble.

The engine rumbled loud and close. Too close. Maybe the driver was

lost. Maybe he wanted to ask for directions. Maybe he was a jerk who

liked to scare kids with his car.

Nick started to turn— to offer help? to flip him the finger?— and the

world exploded in a blast of red light.

And then nothing.

* * *

Regina was terrified. “You have to find him,” she said fiercely. Her

boy. Her baby. “You find him now.”

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Her voice rose on the last word, practically a shriek, and the

customers still in the dining room strained their necks, eavesdropping on

the action in the kitchen, looking at her like she was crazy. She didn’t

care about any of them. She didn’t care about anything but Nick, gone.

Nick, kidnapped. Nick, lost and needing his mommy.

“We’re going to do everything we can,” Caleb said, competent and

calm, and despair stabbed her, a sharp, deep pain in her belly.

Dylan wasn’t calm. His black eyes were hot and dangerous. He

looked ready to murder somebody.

Thank God for Dylan.

She grasped his arm. “You have to find him. You have to get him.

Before the tide comes in.”

Caleb rubbed his jaw. “Regina, we don’t know he’s in those caves.”

“Where else would they take him?”

“Who would take him?” Antonia demanded. “Boy took off, that’s

all.”

“Possibly.” Caleb looked at Dylan. “Did you get anything upstairs?”

Dylan shook his head. “No sign.”

“When did you last see him?” Caleb asked Regina.

“An hour ago. An hour and a half?” She twisted her hands together

in her apron. Why didn’t he do something? Why didn’t they go find him?

“Before dinner anyway.”

“After the ferry left, then,” Caleb said.

“I guess. Does it matter?”

“It increases the chance he’s still on the island.”

“Of course he’s on the island,” Antonia said.

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“Did he say anything to you about going out?” Caleb asked Regina.

“To a friend’s house maybe.”

“He’s not at the Trujillos’. I called first thing. He’s not anywhere.”

“He’s sulking,” Antonia said. “He’ll come back when he feels like

it.”

“Why ‘sulking’?” Caleb asked.

Guilt swamped Regina. Nick was upset because of her. Because

she’d left him. First she’d gotten herself kidnapped and then she’d gone

off on the boat to have sex, leaving her traumatized eight-year-old

behind. She was a terrible, terrible mother.

“He . . . I . . .”

“His mood doesn’t matter,” Dylan said.

“Unless he ran away,” Caleb pointed out. “Without proof of an

abduction—”

“He does not need to have been abducted to be in danger,” Dylan

said flatly. “Once outside the ward’s protection, he is vulnerable.”

Oh, God, Regina thought. She curled her hands protectively over her

stomach.

“Vulnerable to what?” Antonia demanded. “This is World’s End, not

New York City.”

Fear clawed Regina’s throat. Her son hadn’t been taken by sexual

predators. He’d been kidnapped by demons.

She swallowed hard. “Why? You said he wasn’t in danger.”

Dylan’s face was bleak. “He should not have been. He has no value

to them.”

That made it worse. If he had no value, they could kill him.

“Can’t you put out a . . . What do they call it? An Amber Alert?”

Regina asked Caleb.

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“As soon as we have any indication he was abducted, I’ll call the

Knox County sheriff,” he promised. “Get him in the database. But we

need to search the apartment first, talk to the neighbors. Sometimes kids

hide. Can you describe what he was wearing?”

“Jeans. A T-shirt. Blue? Oh, we’re wasting time,” she said in an

agony of worry. “The tide . . . He’s so little.”

“I’ll go now,” Dylan said.

Regina’s stomach was burning. Raw. She reached for her apron

strings. “I’ll come with you.”

“Not a good idea,” Caleb said. “I’ll do a quick patrol, visit the

encampment. Somebody may have seen him. You need to stay here in

case Nick shows up. Or calls.”

“He can’t call if he’s been kidnapped,” she snapped. If he was

drowning. “I’m going.”

Dylan shook his head. “I will be faster without you.”

She had never felt so helpless, so scared. Her heart was heavy, her

arms ached with the weight of her missing child. “But—”

“Trust me,” Dylan said.

She met his intense, black gaze. Did she? Could she? She’d never

wanted to rely on anyone, on any man. Then again, she’d never known

another man like Dylan.

She had trusted him with her life. And her heart. But could she trust