Sea Panther (Crimson Storm) (2 page)

A raccoon moving through the reeds caught his keen gaze. He
pounced on the prey. Yet on the fringes of consciousness remained the
unquenched desire for his mate.

* * *

Sofa to sliders, a glance through the glass at the lit
balcony, and back, Kimberly paced the sitting area of the upscale B&B room.
Thoughts bombarded each other in her brain. How to make things right? Being
homeless was a frightening future. A future that could only be delayed a few
more days—until the prepaid week ended. Good thing her fiancé—ex-fiancé—hadn’t
a chance to cancel before taking off to the Cayman Islands with his
administrative assistant.

Jason? How could he have dumped her right before Christmas?
And just when she really needed him?

Kimberly rubbed a stiff neck and forced the overwhelming
thoughts about the catastrophe that ruined her life to the back of her mind.
She promised herself she’d enjoy the mini vacation without dwelling on the
carnage. When the week ended, she’d worry about how to move forward.

The incessant ringing of her cell phone coiled her nerves
tighter. An unfamiliar number showed on the display. She chewed on the edge of
her lower lip. Should she answer?

Curiosity won the mental debate. She grabbed the purple cell
phone from the coffee table and plopped onto the comfy sofa. “Hello?”

“Hey, I’m on break. Had to borrow a phone. Battery died in
mine. Had this feeling. You know, felt like I needed to hear your voice. You
okay?” The familiar tone and clipped words spoken by her sister Sarah allowed
Kimberly to relax.

“Fine.” She hesitated, suppressing a twinge of guilt for
lying. “I met a gorgeous guy tonight with a sexy Scottish burr.”

Crap. Where did that come from? Kimberly hung her head and
silently groaned.

“Thought you swore off men.”

“I did. I’m not planning to date the guy or anything.
Dropped my scarf, and he returned it, is all.” Oh yeah, and the exciting
sensual spark she experienced when their fingers touched. She didn’t dare
mention
that
fascinating tidbit to her sister.

“You don’t think he’s the hit man your ex-client hired? Do—”

Static blared from the speaker. “Can’t hear you. You’re
breaking up.”

“Can you hear me now?” Sarah popped her gum.

Kimberly laughed. “Yeah. Loud and clear. You sound like the
guy from that annoying old phone company commercial.”

“Forget that. Could he be the hit man Mr. Romano hired? Were
you followed to Cape May? Jerky Jason might have told them where to find you.
I’ve felt negative energy for days.”

Unease bubbled in Kimberly’s stomach. Her sister sometimes
had a sixth sense. “Don’t be overdramatic. There isn’t a hit man. Jason hoped
to scare me with the warning. He didn’t want me to enjoy my stay in Cape May.”
Kimberly brushed an unsteady finger over the smooth fabric of the floral sofa.
“Besides, Mr. Romano is a respected businessman. Even though I lost a lot of
his money, he wouldn’t hire a hit man to kill me.”

“Yeah? Well, he might belong to the mob. Please, be careful.
You’ve already lost too much.” Sarah paused. “As for Jason, I’m glad he won’t
be my brother-in-law.”

The last thing Kimberly wanted to do was think about Jason
Reedman, or any of the disaster that had become her life. Couldn’t her sister
understand that?

“Let’s drop it.”

“But I feel so bad. I’m really sorry you had to sell the
condo to pay off debts.”

Kimberly held back tears threatening to leak. She had lost
everything. “Thanks for the support, sis. Things will work out.”
I hope
.

“I have a couple thousand saved.”

“I don’t want your money.” Kimberly twirled strands of hair
around a finger appalled by the idea she might be desperate enough to borrow
money from her younger sister.

“What will you do when the week in Cape May is over?”

“Crash on your sofa, search for a job, celebrate Christmas.”
She wished Sarah goodnight and ended the call. She needed to think.

Who would hire her after what happened? Who would trust her?

* * *

Neptune was throwing a temper tantrum, and the early morning
light enhanced the display from where she sat on a blanket in the sand. The sea
had always drawn Kimberly, especially when at its fiercest. Her father used to
joke that she’d been washed up on shore—the long-lost daughter of the sea god.

She tried to ignore the familiar tug in her chest.

Another white-capped wave crashed on the beach, thundering
in her ears. She covered them with the tartan scarf to muffle the sound. The
wool smelled of male musk, coffee, and cinnamon.

The scent of the man who’d returned the scarf.

A thrill caught her unaware. Something about him had
connected with her on a unique level. Silly, really, she’d never see the man
again. Shrugging off the tingling chills, she snuggled deeper into the warmth
of her coat and returned the wave of a wetsuit-clad surfer.

He grabbed his board and plunged into the churning sea. The
guy must be crazy to brave the water on such a cold morning. Moments later, he
became a silhouette against the pink and gold colors of the sunrise as he rode
a curl to shore.

Shaking her head over the lunacy of thrill seekers, she gave
up the perch in the dunes where she’d fled after waking from another disturbing
nightmare.

Watching the sunrise had been a soothing distraction, but it
was time to head back. She strolled across the street to the Victorian B&B
and the hot breakfast hopefully waiting. After slipping into the foyer, she
hurried past the noisy dining room and ran up the stairs to drop off the
blanket and coat. With most of the guests already downstairs, the empty hall
seemed too quiet.

Kimberly slid the card key into the slot, opened the door
and—froze.

The curtains performed a macabre dance, billowing in the
breeze from the open sliding glass door.

No! God, no
.

Denial screamed in her mind, turning to fear as her gaze
frantically darted around the room. Closet doors hung ajar. Drawers from the
dresser sat on the floor in disarray. Clothing lay scattered on every surface.

She stumbled back and ran along the hall and down the
stairs. The rapid pounding of her heart made her stomach churn. Panting, she
rushed through the parlor to the office.

* * *

After spending most of the morning making a report with the
local police, Kimberly leaned against the hood of her car in front of a
grungy-looking bar and grill. She stole some warmth from the noon sun while
debating whether to walk in. The ad in her pocket had sent her driving to the
outskirts of town to a place called Paradise Point. After getting lost a few
times, she finally found the tavern. The dilapidated bar didn’t look like it
belonged in paradise.

The sign over the door hung from one hook. There were two,
fifty-dollar pickups parked in the gravel lot. Not exactly encouraging.

A chill breeze tickled her cheeks, and she shoved her hands
into deep coat pockets. The sun sat high in the cloudless sky. If there was a
better time to get this over with, she didn’t know it. The last thing she
wanted was to be here after dark.

Kimberly stiffened her spine and marched to the door, the
crunch of frozen gravel overloud, then pulled the index card out of the pocket
and stared at the masculine penned block letters.
Rusty Scupper
.

This is the place
.

Layers of chipped black paint and battered hinges. Looked as
if the door had been kicked in dozens of times. The owner of the B&B had
hinted this section of town had a seedy reputation. Guess he got that right.

Maybe it would be better not—

Get a grip, Kimberly. You can do this
.

She grabbed the grimy knob and twisted.

T
he dank smells
of stale beer and perspiration and moldy wood, mixed with a hint of urine,
assaulted Kimberly as she entered the decrepit bar. Her eyes required a few
seconds to adjust to the dimness.

Three salty old men stared at her from bar stools twisted in
her direction. The other stood behind the bar, drying a streaked glass with a
stained linen towel.

She swallowed, suppressing an urge to run out the door. Lead
took up residence in her legs as she walked across the sticky plank floor to
the bar. The bartender smiled, showing tobacco-stained teeth. Kimberly fiddled
with the tattered index card in her hand.

“Can I help you, miss?” The bartender dropped a cardboard
coaster in front of her.

“I’m interested in the crew position on
Sea Panther
.”

Three sets of eyes widened. Not a good sign.

The scruffy guy seated on the closest stool rubbed his gray
beard. “You want to crew for the Panther? You’re a brave girl.”

“Isn’t that wise?”

The bartender shot the patron a scathing glare, and the man
stared down into his beer mug. The door creaked open with a burst of cold air;
everyone glanced in that direction. A tall, brawny man with red hair and ruddy
complexion sauntered in and approached the bar. The bartender handed him a
foamy mug, which he downed in two gulps. Then he sat on a stool at the end of
the bar and pushed the empty mug toward the bartender. “Another, Mackey.”

Mackey laughed. “Have a bad day, Colin?”

“Aye, you might say that. Worked up a heavy thirst.”

“Well, your day is about to improve.”

“How so?”

Mackey tilted his head toward Kimberly. “This lady here is
interested in crewing for the Panther.”

The redheaded man glanced at her. One side of his mouth
quirked up, and he shook his head a couple of times. Then he measured her with
a stare and gestured to the barstool next to him. “Join me, lass.”

Another man with a Scottish burr. Were Scotsmen taking over
South Jersey? Kimberly hid nervous amusement behind a cough then shored up her
courage and slid onto the stool next to the big man. Either she had impeccable
timing or fate had taken an interest.

“Care for a drink?” he asked.

“No thanks, too early for me.”

“Suit yourself, though I’m sure it’s happy hour somewhere.”
He grabbed the refilled beer mug from Mackey and took a long swallow. Setting
the mug on the bar, he spun on the stool to face her. “Colin MacEwen.”

She laid the index card on the bar and shook the
outstretched hand. “Kimberly Scot.”

Colin’s gaze shifted to the card, and he smiled. “I see you
found one of my wee advertisements.”

“Are you the captain?”

“First mate. My distant cousin is the captain.” Keen hazel
eyes once again roamed over her.

She fought not to squirm under the earnest inspection.

“Why do you want to crew on
Sea Panther?
”

“I need a job.”

He grunted. “Do you have experience?”

“Yes.” Kimberly held his gaze. “You may have heard of my
father. Jimmy Scot?”

Would he recognize Dad’s name? Colin remained inscrutable.
Alrighty, then…

“He was an international racer. I sometimes crewed for him
when he wasn’t racing. He died several years ago.”

“I’ve heard of Fast Jimmy.” Colin’s face softened, and he
took a swig of beer. “
Sea Panther
sails at a leisurely pace, making
frequent stops along the way. Would that bore you?”

“No.” Kimberly stilled, holding in the relief. He was
considering hiring her. She didn’t want to blow it now.

The man frowned. Hesitated. Then seemed to come to a
decision. “You’ll need to meet with the captain. He’ll have more questions.”

“Sure.”

“Meet him here at eleven tonight. And don’t let him
intimidate you.”

“Here?” Kimberly squeaked.

“Problem?”

She glanced around the barroom, trying not to show distaste.

Colin chuckled. “Where do you live?”

“I was staying at a B&B in Cape May.”

“And now?”

Kimberly lowered her gaze to the well-worn surface of the
mahogany bar. “Nowhere. That’s why I need a job.”

Colin reached for the index card on the bar and flipped it
over. He pulled a pen from a breast pocket and jotted an address on the
tattered sheet. “Here.” He handed it over. “Be there at ten o’clock tonight.
I’ll make sure the captain is at the club, and I’ll tell the lads you’ll be
coming.”

He chugged the remainder of his beer and tossed a ten-dollar
bill on the bar. “Take care, Mackey.” He inclined his head to her. “Good day,
Miss Scot.” Before walking out the door, he called back, “Be there at ten.
Don’t be late, the captain hates tardiness.”

He chuckled and pushed out the door.

Kimberly exhaled sharply and glanced at the bartender. He
stared as if mesmerized by a favorite reality show on TV. She smiled. Now that
the course was set, she wanted a drink. Needed one, actually. As the mate said,
it must be after five somewhere in the world.

“A glass of red wine, please.” She swiveled from side to
side on the barstool.

“Right away, miss, but you should have let Colin buy the
drink. His captain is swimming in money.”

She leaned forward. Now she’d get the real poop.

“Colin is okay, but the captain is strange,” the patron
who’d started to speak earlier said.

An uneasy sensation settled in her chest. “What do you
mean?”

“He’s never seen other than at night…and there are rumors.”

“What kind of rumors?”

“Dark tales.”

Kimberly bit her bottom lip.

Mackey scowled at the man. “Do shush, Tinker. Don’t be
scaring the lady.”

“Aren’t you afraid to crew for the Panther? He’s a hard
man.” The other bar patron dressed in a black wool fisherman sweater finally
spoke.

Kimberly didn’t understand the urge to jump to the captain’s
defense. She’d never met the man. Didn’t know his name. “If you know a reason I
shouldn’t crew on
Sea Panther
, I wish you would tell me what it is.”

“Well, there’s rumors is all,” Tinker said.

These men thought she should be afraid. Why? “Please, tell
me more.”

“Captain MacLachlan’s a reclusive billionaire,” Mackey said.

“Some say he’s,” the man in the sweater looked around the
barroom wide-eyed as if fearing the walls hid listening ears, “a pirate.”

* * *

At nine-thirty in the evening, Kimberly stood on the
sidewalk across the street from the address Colin provided. Hip club-goers
entered through a pair of lacquered black doors.

She took out her cell phone and entered a speed-dial
sequence.
Come on, answer
. Sarah better have recharged her phone’s
battery.

After two rings, her sister offered a cheery, “Hey.”

“Hi.” Kimberly’s chest tightened but she plowed on. “I might
not make it for Christmas.”

“Why not?”

“Ran into a bit of a difficulty. I need to lay low for a
while.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Someone ransacked my room at the B&B this morning.” If
it wasn’t bad enough knowing someone broke into the room, that they touched her
personal stuff made her cringe.

“Did they steal anything?”

“I no longer have anything of value worth stealing. I pawned
my electronics and most of my jewelry. The police said maybe one of the other
guests disturbed a robber and they ran off. Though, I don’t think the cops
believe that any more than I do.”

“Do you think it was the hit man?”

“Don’t know. I’m scared.” The ache in Kimberly’s belly
burned. The rumors about a hit man must be true. But why would he go through
her stuff? She’d been an easy target while sitting on the beach. A perfect
kill.

“Then you should come here. I’ll get one of my big guy
friends to protect you.”

“I’m not putting you or your friends at risk. I found a crew
ad for a ninety-foot yacht sailing to Florida and the Caribbean. I plan to be
on that boat when it departs.”
And if there is a hit man, he won’t be able
to find me
.

A long shrill whistle sounded from the phone speaker. “Are
you losing it? You swore  never to sail again.”

“I know, but desperation changes things.”

“You don’t have to leave. I can lend you some money and—”

“I don’t want you mixed up in this mess.”

“But—”

“Let it go. Please.”

“You’re too impulsive. You can’t take off with strangers on
a mega-yacht.”

Kimberly winced. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t considered the
risks. “I did an internet search on the yacht. The owner is a wealthy
philanthropist who operates a panther research facility in South Florida. Above
board. I’ll be safe.”

“Oh, Kim, how do you know for sure?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” Kimberly refused to allow her
sister’s grave sigh to sway her.

“I can’t talk you out of this, can I?”

“No.” There was no way Sarah was changing Kimberly’s mind.
She was determined to be on
Sea Panther
when the yacht set sail, even if
it meant stowing away.

“Be careful and call me often. I need to know you’re okay.”

“I will.” Kimberly disconnected the call and shoved the
phone back in her purse. She waited for a black sedan with tinted windows to
pass before striding across the street. She’d do whatever it took to get on
that damn boat.

* * *

Colin sent a woman for Robert to interview. Why? The man
knew better.

Before he could wrap his mind around the why of his first
mate’s actions, a knock sounded at the door. “Enter,” he yelled and continued
to stare at the garden through the private dining room’s paned windows. He was
acting rude, but he wanted to assert control over the battling beasts before
facing the woman who managed to wheedle Colin into giving a recommendation.

The sound of a feminine throat clearing stiffened his spine,
and he whirled around to face the woman. Oxygen left him in a rush. There stood
the lass who haunted his dreams for the past night and day—since he saw her on
the street and returned the damn scarf. The simple touch of their fingers had
produced sparks. Remnants of the intense jolt of power that released the
panther from tight restraints continued to surge through his blood.

He needed to be wary of this dangerous woman. He couldn’t
hire her—have her near him, night after night, for the entire duration of a
cruise. Too great would be temptation.

Robert studied her tall, slim form. She appeared elegant
even though casually dressed. Soft chocolate eyes peered from a sculpted ivory
face framed by shoulder-length curly brown hair. His gaze fed on lush lips that
begged for passionate kisses.

When a pink tongue darted out and moistened those lips,
every muscle in his body clenched. Fire raced through his veins. He was lost.

He couldn’t allow it. He strengthened his resolve. “Please,
have a seat,” he reluctantly offered.

Her eyes glimmered with recognition, and she smiled.
“Captain MacLachlan?”

“Aye.” Robert waved toward a chair. “Sit.”

He clenched his jaw. Was it his voice that sounded so gruff?
Just as well, he didn’t want to give encouragement.

She dropped into the chair. A perplexed expression played on
perfect features.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“I…I’m sorry.” She jumped up and reached out a hand.
“Kimberly Scot.”

“Robert MacLachlan, Captain of
Sea Panther
.”

He hesitated before shaking her hand. Would her touch
produce the same effect as on their last meeting? He tightened control on the
vampire and the panther, and grasped the slender hand.

Zap
.

Her eyes widened.

He yanked his arm away and extinguished the unwanted flame
of lust hardening his loins. This woman meant trouble.

“Sit,” he barked.

Though her hands trembled, she did as directed.

He trembled too. Needing time to rein in the chaotic
emotions, he poured wine into two goblets from the bottle on the wet bar. He
handed her one, careful not to make physical contact again. “I own this
establishment. The wine is excellent.”

“Thank you,” she said and accepted the glass.

He grunted. God, he was being rude.

He paced a few feet away. Far enough not to reach for her.
The lingering sensation from their brief handshake made him edgy. The pulse at
her neck called to the vampire. The panther, demanding his mate, fought against
bonds to which Robert tethered the animal. Robert forced control. “You want to
crew on
Sea Panther?
”

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes. Was she afraid?

Aye. He smelled trepidation. Although it was best she fear
him, the thought didn’t sit well. A strong need to protect his mate blasted his
frontal lobe. Damn panther.

She held his stare. Finally, she answered, “Yes.”

“Why do you want to crew for me?”

“I need a job.”

“I see.”

Dark brows rose in a graceful arch. “Do you?”

“What experience do you have?”

“I sailed with my father when I was a teenager.”

Robert ignored the pinch in his chest and slid his gaze over
her too-slim form. He lingered on the curve of her breasts before gradually
directing his gaze higher, satisfied when she blushed. “Not to be insulting, but
you haven’t been a teenager for a long time.”

The angry tilt of her chin exposed the sweet, soft, tempting
length of her throat. His fangs punched through his gums, and he labored to
concentrate.

“My father was Jimmy Scot. I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

Indeed. Fast Jimmy had won more international yacht races
than any of his contemporaries. Why did his daughter seek a job on
Sea
Panther?
Although the lass wore quality garments, Colin believed she
struggled without resources.