Wilmington, NC 04 - Murder At Wrightsville Beach

anything ever hap . . ."
    A loud commotion outside my door interrupted his words. The door opened part way, someone was trying to come in, someone else was holding the door shut. I heard Nick's voice and he was yelling, "I'm her husband! You can't keep me out. Now let me go to her."
    He entered my room in a rush and seemed to fill it, larger than life. Coming straight to my bed, he reached for me. "Sweetheart, sweetheart, I came right away as soon as I got word that you mother had died. I'm so sorry I wasn't here. I've been on airplanes for two days. They had me on special assignment in Baghdad, but I got here as fast as I could."
    "Why didn't you call me?" I said accusingly.
    He looked sorrowful. "They wouldn't let me. I couldn't let anyone know where I was. Not even you."
    "So you just left me to worry," I said softly as tears welled in my eyes.
    The nurse, who was as bossy as all nurses are, had followed him into the room. "Well, if you're her husband, who is he ?" she demanded, pointing to Jon.
    Jon ducked his head and looked contrite.
    When he didn't protest, she crossed her arms and said, "Well, one of you has got to go. Doctor's orders, one visitor at a time. You'll wear this poor girl out and she needs to get her strength back."
    Nick looked confused. Jon my husband?
    Jon sprang up, not doing a good job of controlling his fury. "I may not be her husband but I'm the one who brought her in! I'm the one who was here all night pacing the halls! If anyone stays, it's me."
    Nick nodded. "Jon, you were good to help us out. Ashley and I appreciate what you did, but I'm here now so you can go home and get some well-deserved rest. Thanks, buddy, thanks a lot." He extended his hand but Jon did not take it, just glared at him.
    "You should have been here for her," he declared. "She was worried to death over you, and I hold you responsible for what's happened to her."
    I stared at the two of them, almost too overwhelmed to speak and certainly too weak. But I had to say my piece.
    "Nick, I respect what you do, I really, really do. I understand that with you duty comes first. But with Jon, I come first. And Nick, when I do have a baby I want it to be with a man who puts us first. I'm sorry. I've been so lonely. I needed you so much."
    "I wish I'd known," Nick said and the regret he felt was apparent.
    "I tried to tell you as soon as I knew. I called and called." Tears rolled down my cheeks. "But now . . . there is no way I will ask Jon to leave this room."
    Nick stared from Jon to me, instantly comprehending. Then, as if drawing a curtain between us, he let a mask of indifference slip over his face. He's assuming his cop's mode, I thought, and recalled how I had always resented the way he was able to hide his emotions behind a passive expression.
    Nick moved to the door. "Okay, I'll wait outside. But we're going to talk about this later, Ashley."
    Tears flooded my eyes. "I don't think so," I whispered as the door closed.
    I stretched out my hand to Jon. "Please stay with me."
    He grinned broadly and promised, "I'm not going anywhere."

MURDER ON THE ICW

    During the Prohibition Era, moonshine operations flourished along the creeks that fed the Intracoastal Waterway. So Ashley Wilkes, historic preservationist, is not surprised to learn that the hunting lodge she is restoring once housed an operational still. But what she discovers under a small mountain of moonshine bottles is both surprising and shocking. Meanwhile, Melanie's boyfriends are turning up dead. Is she loving them to death? The police think so. Thanksgiving weekend finds Ashley and Melanie sailing in the annual Holiday Flotilla. But are those popping noises they hear fireworks or gunfire?

    Available for Kindle on Amazon