Drake Sisters 03 - Oceans of Fire

good together. They fit. His life had never been right until he had Abigail. He’d never felt complete. He’d never had a home or a family. He’d never had anyone to come home to. Hell, he’d never wanted to go home. Abigail had changed everything and he couldn’t go back to emptiness. She filled his life with laughter and love. She found soft spots in him, tenderness, a gentleness he’d never known he had.
    “No.”
    “I never thought you were a coward, Abbey.” He knew he’d put that wariness in her eyes. Could she feel pain over what he’d done if she didn’t still love him? He held on to that hope. His only hope. She was hurting and he had to be happy that at least she felt something for him.
    “To be honest, Sasha, I don’t give a damn whether you think you love me or not. Yours isn’t the kind of love I’m looking for so just drop it.” Abigail gripped the paddle until her knuckles turned white. She was shaking with fury and if it weren’t for the fact that they were on the trail of killers, she would have turned back. But whomever he was searching for had not only killed his friend, they had nearly killed Gene and attempted to murder her as well.
    The kayak glided through the rather flat expanse of ocean, Abigail’s attention on the shore. As they Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    rounded the point she could make out a small beach in the distance where a group of women, most in billowy skirts and bright purple shirts, raced barefoot into the sea. The wind carried their laughter, a bright happy sound that warmed her.
    “Do you see those women, Abbey?”
    “They’re impossible to miss.” She found herself smiling at the bobbing red hats and squinted to try to pick out her aunt among them.
    “They know how to live life. They participate and they find ways to be happy. You want to hold on to things that forever will keep us apart. For what?” He paused, turning his head to pin her with his steely eyes. “Tell me why you refuse to allow us to be happy.”
    “I came out here to help you find your criminals, not to engage in some philosophical debate, Sasha. Did you think you’d climb into my bedroom and I’d just melt into your arms after what happened?” She turned to look at the women racing waves and leaping over white foam. They did look happy and they appeared to be having a wonderful time. Unexpectedly her heart ached. Carol had always known how to have fun. To love and forgive and to enjoy every moment of her life. She cared little what others thought, but stuck to her own code.
    “Maybe that’s what’s wrong with me,” Abigail mused aloud. “Maybe I’ve forgotten my own code.”
    He reached out and stilled her boat. “Do you see something up above the beach in the rocks, near that small grouping of trees?”
    Abigail narrowed her vision and peered at the windswept trees. “I can’t really see anything. Was there movement?”
    “Possibly. That is your aunt on the beach with the other women, isn’t it?”
    Abigail took a slow sweep of the rocky cliffs, paying particular attention to the trees and shrubs directly above the beach where the women were piling driftwood for what she very much feared was an illegal fire. She didn’t have the prickle of awareness that sometimes came to her through her sisters, and her aunt was joyfully dancing, her arms waving gracefully in the air. Surely Carol herself would feel an alarm were she in danger.
    Abigail dug her binoculars out of her pack and took another long look. The women formed a loose circle around the driftwood and, sure enough, small flames began to leap between the logs. One woman, and it was definitely her aunt Carol, stepped out of the circle to snap a photograph with the camera she always kept on a strap around her neck. Abigail centered her attention a second time on the cliff above the beach.
    “I see them now,” Abigail said, relieved. “Yes, a couple of the local boys and a couple of their friends from Fort Bragg. They’re spying on the women. You don’t have to worry about them, Aunt Carol will take care of them.”
    “Do you think she knows they’re there?” he asked as he relinquished his hold on her kayak.
    “Of course she knows. Aunt Carol is just like Sarah. She definitely ‘knows’ things. The boys are probably hoping she’s going to do some kind of witchcraft for them to catch on film and show all their friends. Who knows, just to oblige them she