at the back of the old yacht he called home. Without a word, Shel helped her on board. He followed and caught a glimpse of her face. Lucy’s expression, a combination of interest, excitement, and fear, knocked the breath right out of him. Dammit, she could be Isabel’s twin.
To cover his confusion Shel turned Lucy toward the door that led to the main cabin of the yacht. “The salon. We need to talk.” motioned her into the small, comfortable room.
Lucy walked into the cozy little living room.
“Sit,” he said. She did, staring up at him with an expression of guilt. Shel glared at her and crossed his arms over his chest. If he kept them crossed just maybe he wouldn’t strangle her. “Now, let’s start with who wants to kill you.” Lucy looked pale and seasick.
Lucy looked at him wide-eyed. She swallowed hard and looked away. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” Shel repeated, with a trace of disbelief in his voice. “Is there a reason someone would want to kill you?”
“Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. At least not…” She refused to look at him.
“Do go on,” Shel said with deep sarcasm. “I’m enthralled.”
“Everything was fine until I bought some things from a nice lady at a garage sale.”
Shel shook his head in disbelief. He didn’t believe in coincidence. “And this is why someone wants to kill you? What the hell did you buy?”
“Just some little trinkets from Russia,” Lucy said quietly. She looked directly at him. Shel’s breath caught. “I think they want the doll.”
“Who are they and why do you think they want this doll?” Shel asked, knowing he was going to have to pull the information out of her in bits and pieces. With a frown, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He should just bite her. He’d know everything then. But he couldn’t, not until he figured out why he kept seeing Isabel in her.
“You’ll think I’m crazy,” Lucy answered in a whisper.
Shel pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally counting to 10. “I won’t think you’re crazy. Why do they, whoever they are, want this doll?”
“The Werewolves. I think it holds some sort of magic amulet or something. I think it’s something the Werewolves here want.” Lucy said it as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world.
Everything stopped. Even his heart. Shel stared at her for several seconds too long. Lucy blushed. “I knew it. You think I’m crazy.” She sighed heavily and lowered her eyes to stare at the floor.
Shel shook his head. “And they would be the Werewolves after you.”
“You’re laughing at me.”
“I’m not laughing. Tell me again how you got mixed up in this?” It can’t be this easy.
“I went to a garage sale. I thought it would be fun.” She began telling him one more time about buying the curious old matryoshka doll and chatting with the woman selling it. “So I asked about charters…”
“And she gave you my name.” Shel grimaced.
Lucy nodded.
“Shit. I…” Shel trailed off as the satellite phone beeped with an incoming call. He grabbed the phone. “Yeah?”
“Sheldon Jefferson?” asked a disembodied voice on the other end of the phone.
“Yes?” Shel asked, recognizing the voice despite the distortion. Sergei must have leaned on Ava to get his phone number.
“You have something that belongs to me. I want it back.”
Shel stiffened, instantly on alert. “Oh really? And what might that be?”
“I think you know,” Sergei said in a deceptively soft voice.
“Enlighten me anyway, comrade.” Shel looked at Lucy. This was absolutely insane.
“Insults will get you nothing. But I will be generous and offer you one hundred thousand US dollars for the return of my property.”
“Pricey, comrade, makes me wonder what this property is.”
“A memento you understand, sentimental. I am very attached to it.”
“Oh, of course,” Shel said. “I’m even more curious now.”
“If it should be damaged, I will kill you.” Sergei dropped all pretense of politeness.
Shel drew a deep drag from his cigarette, “You can try,” he said, amused.
“When I find you, you are a dead man, Jefferson.”
“Or I could drink your blood,” Shel said in a cheerful voice. He smiled at Lucy’s wide-eyed stare and hung up the phone, tossing it into the little bin beside the wheel. “You’ve probably guessed that was our friend Sergei. The husband of your nice Russian lady, Ava.”
“How did… You know him?” Lucy looked a little pale.
“I know, correction, knew his wife Ava. We were on, um, intimate terms. I imagine Ava’s husband tortured my phone number out of her before he killed her.” Shel smiled at Lucy’s look of horror. “You didn’t think this was a game did you, sugar?”
“She’s dead?” Lucy sounded as if she’d lost a bit more of her innocence than she’d planned. Her green eyes held a haunted expression of old grief renewed. That puzzled him.
Shel regretted his flippant attitude, sometimes he forgot not everyone held the same casual attitude toward life his kind did. The troubled expression on Lucy’s face gave him a sharp twinge of guilt. Of course she was scared, Sergei had people after her.
Before he realized it, Shel knelt in front of Lucy and took her hands. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” She nodded.
“You can stay in my cabin tonight.” Shel looked Lucy over. “I probably have something you can borrow to sleep in. I’ll show you which cabin and where my extra t-shirts and things are if you’re ready.”
“Thank you,” Lucy’s voice was still a pale shadow of the brightness it had been earlier.
Shel gave a mental shrug and motioned toward the end of the passage. “Tomorrow I’ll go ashore and do some checking. You’ll be safe here. I’ll bring back your things.” He left her there, giving her what privacy he could on the small boat.
Shel shut the door and silently slipped back to the salon. When he got there, he pushed the idea of her asleep in his cabin out of his mind. He didn’t want to examine the feelings that conjured up too closely. Shel went to the small couch. He’d sleep there. If he slept.
Shel reached for Lucy’s bag, a tacky straw tourist job with Miami embroidered on the side. He set it on the galley table. It tipped over and the usual stuff women carried spilled out, along with a small wallet.
He
