had been torn apart by a storm fiercer than any hurricane.
* * *
Reuben should have felt deep shock at finding it was Antonia Verde he’d just fished out of the Atlantic Ocean, but for some reason, he felt more confusion than anything else. Antonia was never far from his thoughts or his memories in the year they’d been apart. Reminders of her lingered in the warm sand where they’d hunted for shells. They survived in the crisp air that made her hair dance across her laughing face and the Florida sun that bronzed her perfect skin. He’d known she’d returned; he’d heard as much from his brother.
Hector kept it simple. The little traitor is back, Reuben. Look out.
Mia had energetically sought to destroy his brother and excuse her own mistakes by accusing Hector of attacking her, forcing her to defend herself. Upon Mia’s release from jail, she’d taken Gracie and run, leaving his brother desperately missing his little girl. Reuben suspected that Antonia knew perfectly well where her sister was holing up and was probably even helping her. Still, the sight of her shivering, clutching the blanket around herself as if it were some sort of armor, twisted his stomach. The traitor, the lush-lipped, silk-skinned traitor who killed him on the inside, still charged his body with a rush of feeling.
“I need to go back to the mainland,” she said, after a few stuttering attempts to speak.
“Too dark,” Reuben said.
She looked as though she wanted to respond, but the shivering turned into full-on trembling and she hunched deeper into the blanket.
Fine by him. Silence was probably the better of many options that would lead to angry words. Again. Curiosity burned inside him and he longed to question her, but instead he helped Silvio tie up to the dock after they fought the waves back to Isla Marsopa. Silvio helped Antonia out, and Reuben followed them into the main house, where a light shone in the lower level.
Paula met them in the lobby. Her red hair had long ago faded, overcome by gray, but her eyes sparked in her tan face. “Antonia Verde?” She blinked with recognition. “What happened out there?”
“Let’s get her something warm to drink,” Reuben said, temporarily staunching the explanation that he, too, was eager to hear.
Reuben gestured toward a wooden chair and fetched another blanket as Paula heated some water for tea. He was relieved that they hadn’t lost power yet. The generator had been fussy and he hadn’t had time to tinker with it.
Paula wrapped a nubby wool blanket around Reuben’s shoulders and handed them each a cup of hot tea. Antonia clutched hers with both hands, delicate fingers cupping the mug and holding it close to her chest.
“Gotten yourself into more trouble, I see,” Paula said. “And dragged Reuben along.”
Antonia looked up, and a tiny flash of spirit returned to her features. Reuben felt a swell of relief and something else deep in his core.
“I didn’t ask for anyone’s help,” Antonia said.
Paula sniffed. “Reuben isn’t the kind to let a person drown, even if that person is an enemy.”
Antonia stiffened. “I’m sorry to cause trouble.”
Gavin came in, a pack on his shoulder. “I was ready to head back to the mainland, but I couldn’t find you....” He broke off when he saw Antonia. “Who are you?”
“Antonia Verde,” she said through chattering teeth.
Gavin’s eyebrows shot up. “Here I thought you were trying to get people off this island, Mr. Sandoval.”
Reuben would have laughed in different circumstances. “Storm’s worse. You’ll have to bunk here for the night, Gav. I’ll take you back at first light.”
Gavin shrugged. “Sure thing. One more of Paula’s meals will make it worthwhile.”
Paula’s face broke into a rare smile. “You’re a flatterer, Mr. Campbell.”
“My grammy says flattery will get you nowhere, but I find it usually scores me a second piece of pie.”
Reuben worked out a plan. “Paula, can you get the Seabreeze ready? It’s the only bungalow that’s relatively decent.”
“If that’s what you want,” Paula said. “Mr. Campbell, set the table for dinner, please.”
Gavin sighed. “If I could only convince her to call me Gav.” He set about plopping silverware haphazardly on the oval dining table.
Paula gave Antonia a final glare and went out, Silvio following.
“Thanks, but there’s just no way I can spend the night here,” Antonia said.
“Unless you’re going to swim back, I don’t see much of a choice for you.” Reuben kept his tone level. “What happened?”
She avoided looking at him. “I swam out too far.”
“I got that. Who was on the Jet Ski, and what did he want with you?”
She sipped tea without seeming to taste it. “I don’t know. I think he might have been sent by a guy who followed me from the airport earlier. He was watching me from the beach, so I thought I’d swim up the coast and avoid them both.”
Two guys? He felt a tightening in his gut. “Why are they after you?”
Antonia put the mug down on the antique trunk that served as a coffee table, her hands trembling. “Like I said, I don’t know. It could be just my imagination.”
It was unlike her to be guarded. “Better call the cops.”
Antonia shook her head, sending droplets of water through the lamp-lit lobby. “It’s nothing. Probably a misunderstanding.”
“Don’t think so. Cops are a good idea.”
Her eyes flashed at him. “The cops already believe I lied to support my sister, and so do you.” The words wobbled a bit at the end, and he saw her swallow hard.
He took the brunt of it, the anger that flowed from her and was nearly a match for his own. He spoke lower, hoping Gavin wasn’t hearing every word. “Keep the past out of this.”
“I’d be happy to.” Antonia stood, discarding the blanket, chafing her arms to warm up. He remembered the softness of those arms, tender, loving, and the memory awakened an ache deep inside. He stood, too, walking to the window and looking out toward the restless sea. He drew close to her, close enough to imagine he could feel the warmth of her skin, hear the soft purr of her breathing. Close, but far enough away to remember what she’d done.
“Stay the night. I’ll take you back in the morning if the storm will allow.”
Antonia was staring at the spotted junonia shell nestled on the marble fireplace hearth. “It’s the same one, isn’t it?” she said, voice low.
He didn’t answer.
She traced a finger over the broken edge, and he was drowned in the memory. Happy times, her finding the lovely
