“Tommy, what the heck?”
“Where’s your dad?”
“He had to be in Portland early in the morning, so he went overnight.”
Code, Tommy knew, for the old man getting a piece of ass—maybe even Evan Reynolds’ mom, if she was still around—which God knew Tommy did not hold against the widower even though his own daughter would probably be shocked. But Tommy felt unusually unhappy about it right at this moment, since that would leave Cassie alone for the night. And given the circumstances, depending on what was going on here with the guy in the bar, that didn’t exactly give him a warm and fuzzy feeling.
“And he wouldn’t like you showing up here like this, Tommy.”
An understatement if ever there was one.
“So what are you doing barging in? What’s going on?”
“Shut the door,” he snapped and when she did, he added, “Lock it.”
Cassie’s eyes got a little wider, but she did.
“Who was the girl you were with this afternoon?”
“What girl?”
“Dark-haired. Blue-eyed. Pretty.”
Cassie’s arms went across her chest, making it clear she wasn’t wearing a bra, and she frowned, making it clear, big-time, he wasn’t going to benefit from that fact. “You came all the way over here this time of night over some girl you’re after? God, you’re a jerk. You know that?”
“Who was she to you?”
“She wasn’t anybody to me. And she’s not going to be anybody to you either! She belongs to Evan Reynolds. Jesus, why is everybody so interested in this girl?”
“Belongs to him? What do you mean by that? How do you know that?”
“She was there when I, er—”
“Whatever.”
“He was gone but she was there and she asked me for a ride back to town. That was it. Why?”
“When was that?”
“Today.”
“Time?”
Cassie scowled. “Evan Reynolds is going to beat the crap out of you if you make a pass at her, Tommy.”
He scoffed. “Yeah. I’d like to see that. But what time was that?”
She rubbed her temple. “I don’t know. Afternoon.”
“Early? Late?”
“Early, I guess.”
The crash at the door startled them both.
“Go back into the bedroom,” he whispered, “and lock your door.”
“Why?” she whispered back.
The door being kicked in brought the trouble he wasn’t looking for a bit sooner than he had expected. Kenny or somebody must have fed the guy directions to Cassie’s.
* * * * *
For all his Thoreau-like pretentions, Evan Reynolds was a civilized guy. Roughing it had always meant him and nature, him and his own hands. Savagery had never figured in.
Until now.
When he came back to the island in the early evening to find no Andrea, only Bingo, he wasn’t entirely surprised. Furious as hell. Heartsick. But only half surprised.
And when he got his hands on Andrea Prentiss again, he was going to kill her.
After maybe tying her to the bed or marrying her or some such shit.
And he would get his hands on her again. He was sure of it. She wouldn’t leave him for good. He knew she wouldn’t. She hadn’t even done that the first time.
Once he couldn’t find her on the island and then read by flashlight the curt message she’d scrawled on the fucking chair about getting a ride back to town with Cassie and not looking for her—blah, blah, blah—he got right back into his motorboat and headed into town even though he suspected Andrea wouldn’t be there anymore. Bingo plaintively jumped into the boat with a howl at the last minute, as if he somehow was responsible for Andrea getting away and wanted to help. Whatever. At this point, Evan would take all the help he could get.
He wondered how Andrea even had any money to leave, but he supposed she had her mysterious “disappearing act” ways down pat by now. Or maybe she’d stolen some from him. He hadn’t even taken the time to check.
He should have told Michael that Andrea had shown up again. He should have let his brother hire a SWAT team to surround the island and keep her on it if he had to.
But he hadn’t. And now she was gone again. He intended to head into town to see if Cassie could tell him anything and then he personally was going to call out the fucking cavalry. Michael Reynolds, Damien Reynolds and every damn Evans connection he could muster.
Tying the boat up at the dock with a noticeable lack of his usual careful seamanship, he took off for Bailey’s Grocery store, Bingo trotting beside him, wagging his tail now as if this was all good fun. Despite the relatively early hour, the streets were empty except for when he made it into the vicinity of the town bar. There was always a crowd mulling around there smoking, and tonight was no exception. Although he knew most of the town regulars by sight, he didn’t recognize this crowd and he walked briskly by.