Whiskey Beach Part 116

"f.u.c.ker. The f.u.c.ker." Leaning back, Eli accepted the adoring licks. "He's not going to hurt you. I'm not going to let him hurt you. You stick with me, girl."

He led her back to the table. "You stay right here with me."

In response she laid her head in his lap, sighed in contentment.

He read the rest of the report, then e-mailed back his own, which started with:

The b.a.s.t.a.r.d plans to poison my dog. If you're in Whiskey Beach, don't come here. I don't want him wondering who you are. I'm done waiting around for him to make the next move.

He gave her an overview of what his research had unearthed, and the basics of what he'd done, and planned to do.

Planned to do rather than what he wanted to do right that minute-go straight to Suskind and kick the living s.h.i.+t out of him.

Temper still raw and ripe, Eli took his work and his dog back inside.

"No more going out by yourself until this b.a.s.t.a.r.d's behind bars."

He pulled out his phone when it rang, unsurprised to see Sherrilyn's name on the display.

"This is Eli."

"Eli, Sherrilyn. Let's talk about this idea of yours."

He heard the unsaid "stupid," shrugged. "Sure. Let's talk."

He wandered the house as they spoke because it served to remind him what he was fighting for. And it had come down to a fight for him, even if he was denied the satisfaction of physical blows.

He walked to the third floor, and the curved gla.s.s of the gable where he imagined writing one day, once the fight was done and won, once he'd secured safety for all he loved, and his own self-respect.

"You've got some valid points," he said at length.

"And you're not going to listen to them."

"I did listen to them, and you're not wrong. The thing is, if I step back from this, let the police handle it all, or even let you, I'm back where I was a year ago. Just letting it all happen, letting the situation carry me instead of me carrying it. I can't go back to that. I need to do this for myself, for my family. And in the end, I want him to know that. I need that when I think of Lindsay, my grandmother, this house."

"You didn't believe his wife."

"No."

"What did I miss?"

He lowered his hand to Barbie's head when she leaned against him. "You said you had kids. You're married."

"That's right."

"How many times?"

She let out a laugh. "Just the one. It's worked out pretty well."

"That might be it. You haven't gone through the dark side. Maybe I'm wrong and that's what's coloring it. But I don't think so. The only way to be sure is to box him in. That's what I'm going to do, here, on my turf. In my place."

She let out a sigh. "I can help."

"Yeah, I think you can."

When he'd finished talking to her, he felt lighter somehow. "You know what?" he said to the dog. "I'm going to work for a couple hours, remind myself what my life's supposed to be about. You can hang with me."

He left the past, and what would come behind it, and went down to surround himself with the now.

CHAPTER Twenty-nine

ABRA SWUNG INTO THE MARKET, LIST IN HAND. SHE'D FINISHED back-to-back cla.s.ses, and a sports ma.s.sage on a client prepping for a 5K, and polished it off with a last-minute cleaning in a rental cottage. Now she just wanted to grab what she needed and get back to Eli.

Honestly, she thought, that's what she'd like to do for the rest of her life. Get back to Eli.

But tonight could prove to be the turning point for him. For them. The point where they could begin to leave the questions and the pain of the past in the past, and start working toward tomorrow.

Whatever tomorrow brought, she'd be happy because he'd brought love back into her life. The kind of love that accepted, understood and-even better-enjoyed who and what she was.

Could there be anything more magical and marvelous than that?

She visualized lifting the little hand tote of baggage she still carried, then flinging it into the sea.

Done and gone.

But now wasn't the time for dreaming, she reminded herself. Now was the time for doing. For righting wrong. And if there was some adventure mixed in, so much the better.

She reached up for her preferred counter spray-biodegradable, no animal testing-dropped it in her basket and turned.

She all but b.u.mped into Justin Suskind.

She couldn't stop the quick gasp, but tried to turn it quickly into a fl.u.s.tered apology even as her heart kicked like a startled mule.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't paying attention." Praying she didn't tremble, she tried an easy smile she felt quiver at the edges.

He'd cut his hair, short, lightened it to a sun-streaked blond. Unless he'd spent the last two weeks catching rays, he'd made use of a self-tanner.

And she was reasonably sure he'd had his eyebrows waxed.

He gave her one hard stare, started to move on.