days just past.
“Alex!”
There was what appeared to be a dead man at her feet. A co-worker. A friend. She should be down on her knees, attempting to find life, however hopeless that might be. But one of the two men facing her was a killer. She couldn’t look away. Seconds ticked by, and she stood frozen in place.
Her heart insisted that it couldn’t be either man.
Especially not him.
She couldn’t think. She could only stand there and stare, eyes going from one man to the other, everything within her soul screaming that neither one of them could be a killer.
But one of them was.
She could feel the ocean lapping over her feet. She knew these waters so well, like the back of her hand.
So did they.
No, not these waters. Not this island. She knew it as few other people could.
There was only one thing she could do, even though it was insanity. The storm might have passed for the moment, but the sea was far from placid. The waves were still deadly. The currents would be merciless.
And yet…
She had no other choice.
She turned to the sea and dove into it, and as she swam for her life, she realized that a few days ago, she wouldn’t have believed this.
That was when it had all begun. Just days ago.
She felt the surge of her arms and legs as she strove to put distance between herself and the shore.
Something sped past her in the water. A bullet? A spear?
People always said that in the last seconds of someone’s life, their entire past rushed before their eyes.
She wasn’t seeing that far back.
Just to that morning, by the dolphin lagoon, when she had found the first body on the beach.
The one that had disappeared.
Chapter One
“The main thing to remember is that here at Moon Bay, we consider our dolphins our guests. When you’re swimming with them, don’t turn and stalk them, because, for one thing, they’re faster than you can begin to imagine, and they’ll disappear on you in seconds flat. And also, they hate it. Let them come to you—and they will. They’re here because they’re social creatures. We never force them to interact with people—they want to. Any animal in the lagoon knows how to leave the playing arena. And when they choose to leave, we respect their desire to do so. When they come to you naturally, you’re free to stroke them as they pass. Try to keep your hands forward of the dorsal fin. And just stroke—don’t pound or scratch, okay?”
Alex McCord’s voice was smooth and normal—or so she hoped—as she spoke with the group of eight gathered before her. She had done a lot of smiling, while she first assured the two preteen girls and the teenage boy, who looked like a troublemaker, that she wasn’t angry but they would follow the rules. A few of her other smiles had been genuine and directed at two of the five adults rounding out the dive, the father of the boy and the mother of the girls.
Then there were her forced smiles. Her face was beginning to hurt, those smiles were so forced.
Because she just couldn’t believe who was here.
The world was filled with islands. And these days the world was even filled with islands that offered a dozen variations of the dolphin experience.
So what on earth was David Denhem doing here, on her island, suddenly showing an extraordinary curiosity regarding her dolphins? Especially when his experiences must reduce her swims to a mom-and-pop outing, since he’d been swimming with great whites at the Great Barrier Reef, photographed whales in the Pacific, fed lemon sharks off Aruba and filmed ray encounters in Grand Cayman. So why was he here? It had been months since she’d seen him, heard from him or even bothered to read any of the news articles regarding him.
But here he was, the ultimate ocean man. Diver, photographer and salvage entrepreneur extraordinaire. Six-two, broad shoulders bronzed, perfect features weathered, deep blue gaze focused on her as if he were fascinated by her every word, even though his questions made it clear he knew as much about dolphins as she did.
She might not have minded so much, except that for once she had been looking forward to the company of another man—an arresting and attractive man who apparently found her attractive, as well.
John Seymore, an ex–navy SEAL, was looking to set up a dive business in the Keys. Physically, he was like a blond version of David. And his eyes were green, a pleasant, easygoing, light green. Despite his credentials, he’d gone on her morning dive tour the day before, and she’d chatted with him at the Tiki Hut last night and found out that he’d signed on for the dolphin swim, as well. He’d admitted that he knew almost nothing about the creatures but loved them.
She’d had a couple of drinks…she’d danced. She’d gone so far as to imagine sex.
And now…here was David. Distorting the image of a barely formed mirage before it could even begin to find focus. They were divorced. She had every right to envision a life with another man, so the concept of a simple date shouldn’t make her feel squeamish. After all, she sincerely doubted that her ex-husband had been sitting around idle for a year.
“They’re really the most extraordinary creatures in the world,” Laurie Smith, one of Alex’s four assistants, piped up. Had she simply stopped speaking, Alex wondered, forcing Laurie to chime in. Actually, Alex was glad Laurie had spoken up. Alex had been afraid that she was beginning to look like a bored tour guide, which wasn’t the case at all. She had worked with a number of animals during her career. She had never found any as intelligent, clever and personable as dolphins. Dogs were great; and so were chimps, but dolphins were magical.
“You never feel guilty, as if the dolphins are scientific rats in a lab—except, of course, that entertaining tourists isn’t exactly medical research.”
That came from the last member of the group, the man to whom she needed to be giving the most serious attention. Hank Adamson. He wasn’t as muscled or bronzed as David and John, but he was tall and lithe, wiry, sandy-haired, and wearing the most stylish sunglasses available. He was handsome in a smooth, sleek, electric way and could be the most polite human being on earth. He could also be cruel. He was a local columnist, and he also contributed to travel magazines and tour guides about the area. He could, if he thought it was justified, be savage, ripping apart motels, hotels, restaurants, theme parks and clubs. There was something humorous about his acidic style, which led to his articles being syndicated across the country. Alex found him an irritating bastard, but Jay Galway, manager of the entire Moon Bay facility, was desperate to get a good review from the man.
Adamson had seemed to enjoy the dive-boat activities the day before. She’d been waiting for some kind of an assault, though, since he’d set foot on the island. And here it was.
“The lagoon offers the animals many choices, Mr. Adamson. They can play, or they can retire to their private area. Additionally, our dolphins were all born in captivity, except for Shania, and she was hurt so badly by a boat propeller that she wouldn’t have survived in the open sea. We made one attempt
