the front stoop, barely sheltered, and Jack pulled a knob beside the door. A bell rang. Not an electric doorbell, but a real bell.
“This place must be a hundred years old,” Jack said. He pulled the knob again.
They heard nothing from inside except the bell, but the storm would have drowned out most noise. Still, no one opened the door or turned on a light.
“Maybe he went farther down the street,” Star said. She scrunched her shoulders against the cold water dribbling down her back and wrapped herself in her arms.
“He couldn’t have.” Jack yanked the bell twice more, then pounded on the door with his fist. “Hey! Open up!”
The door creaked slowly open under the force of Jack’s knock.
“It’s unlocked?” Wendy said.
A particularly nasty gust urged the four of them through the doorway.
The only thing Star could see for sure in a sudden flash of lightning was a tile floor, glistening with water. “Where are the lights?”
“Here.” Jack must have flipped a switch because light suddenly filled the room, sparkling from overhead.
Star looked up at a chandelier dripping with gold-tipped crystals as she pushed wet hair back from her face.
At a sudden yelp, she spun around and found a monstrous man, dressed in black, pinning Kyle against the wall by his throat. Kyle’s feet flailed a foot off the ground.
“What are you doing in my house?” The man’s voice rolled across them louder than thunder, vibrating through Star’s bones. She swallowed hard.
“We didn’t mean any harm,” Jack said. He started toward Kyle, but stopped when the man glared at him.
Star stepped forward. “Hey, you didn’t answer the door. Don’t get all bent out of shape. We’re just looking for a phone.”
The man turned sideways to fix her in a menacing stare. “Why?”
“We broke down.” She motioned over her shoulder with her thumb. “We want to call a motel, that’s all.”
The man had long black hair, blown wild by the storm, and fierce black eyes to match, and he glared at her from under heavy brows. A cloak draped across his massive shoulders hung past his knees, below which black boots glistened with water.
Kyle clawed at the stranger’s hand and made gurgling noises.
“You’re hurting him,” Star said.
The man glanced at his captive and eased him down the wall until his toes touched the floor, then released him.
Kyle stumbled away and fell. He sat staring up at the stranger, coughing, and rubbing his throat.
“Can we use your phone?” Star asked.
“No.” As if suddenly deciding they weren’t much of a threat, he turned his back on them to close the front door, then swung the cloak from his shoulders and hung it on hook. “I have no telephone.”
“No phone?” Wendy asked.
He looked her over from head to toe. “No. And it would do you no good. There’s no lodging in Black Cove.”
“Well, crap,” Star muttered.
He turned his black-eyed gaze on her.
She found herself standing as straight as possible to compensate for the foot difference in their heights. The man was no less intimidating without the cloak. His wet, black shirt clung to him, hinting at massive muscles to fit his tremendous frame. He’d make one hell of a bouncer.
He seemed to be waiting for some explanation.
“One of the windows in the van’s missing and everything’s wet. Not the ideal place to crash.”
He looked from her to the others, one at a time, and then returned his attention to her. His gaze drilled into her head, and her chest tightened, but she knew her discomfort didn’t show. She’d perfected looking frosty.
He stepped closer, towering over them all. “Who are you?”
The other three answered in unison. “Jack.” “Wendy.” “Kyle.”
Star felt the others backing away, but she held her ground. She hadn’t let a man use his size to intimidate her since she was twelve. She could take a hit, and give as good as she got. She curled her hands into fists at her side.
“Star Reid.”
“Star? What kind of name is that?”
“It’s my name.” Angry heat rose in her cheeks, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“What are you doing here?”
“Passing through,” Jack said.
He stared at them for a long moment, then, muttering, he strode past them into the middle of a large living room filled with antique furniture spread across a dark oval rug. On the far wall, a giant painting, at least a dozen feet wide and nearly as high, portrayed an old-time sailing ship on a wild sea passing in front of a rock cliff. The sky above the cliff was deep blue and green with a hint of red, like a sunset at the edge of a storm. Every detail was so perfect, Star wouldn’t have been surprised if the ship had started rocking.
Oddly, when the stranger stood in front of the painting, he looked as if he belonged in it.
“You may stay here for the night, as long as you keep to this floor. There are guest quarters at the end of the hall, and I believe you’ll find what you need. I will be occupied until tomorrow night, and by then, I assume you will be gone.”
“Wow. Thanks,” Wendy said, using her bubbly voice.
The man turned to leave.
“What’s your name?” Star asked.
He spun around, glowering.
She barely resisted flinching.
“Pardon me,” he finally said, “Captain Benjamin Bartlett.” He gave a slight bow, then marched across the room to a staircase and climbed it at a trot. His heavy footsteps thudded across the ceiling until they disappeared.
Star turned to find her traveling companions eyeing each other.
Kyle rose from the ground, still rubbing his throat. “Son of bitch,” he whispered. “What was that?”
Jack whistled softly. “This place looks like a freakin’ museum or something.”
Lighting flashed and thunder rattled the windows.
Wendy laughed. “Can you believe this? What a place to break down!”
“I wonder what the rest of the house looks like,” Jack said.
Star
