Page 20 of Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea

Having lost my appetite, I walk my plate back into the kitchen to put the perishables away, then head to my room to lay down.

Eventually, I fall asleep, which means when I wake, it’s early the next morning. With nothing on my agenda for the day now that Smitty has given me the next couple of days off, I dress in my favorite string bikini—a crocheted yellow little number—throw my cover-up on over top, pack sunscreen, my eReader and a towel into a beach bag; then after throwing my hair up into a high ponytail and sucking back a cup of coffee and a bowl of instant oatmeal, I head to the beach.

I hope with the warm temps, the sun shining bright and all the people around, it will be enough to distract me from thoughts of Gage, Houdini and now Michael.

The aroma of salt and the sound of the waves lapping the shore bring on a feeling of peace and contentment I haven’t felt in over a year. It shouldn’t have, considering the large body of water spread out before me. I should be petrified, paralyzed by fear at the mere idea of water, except I can’t muster that emotion.

Hours pass. For about twenty minutes I put my eReader down to watch a young family—mom, dad and baby who’d be about Gun’s age, squirming, giggling and splashing in the ocean. Although I missed them—Boss, Elise and Gun—it makes me smile to watch the family at play.

When they move back up the beach to their towels, I resume reading the steamy erotic romance I’ve been attempting to get through—a romance which is probably a poor choice considering I’ve been here for months, and Gage and I hadn’t had sex for weeks before that. Well, aside from our over-the-phone activities. But over the phone has nothing on the real thing. The thick feel of Gage between my legs, or when he puts his mouth on me.Gah!Definitely not the right book for me to read.

I power down the eReader and close my eyes to bask in the beautiful summer sun. That is until a shadow crosses over and I shiver, slowly opening one eye to see if we’re in for a rain shower or if I’d fallen victim to a rogue cloud.

After a second shiver, both my eyes pop open and I scream. That’s because Michael—yes, Michael—stands peering down over me.

“What are you doing here?” I whisper, fear choking my words.

“Cover up,” he demands.

“Excuse me?” My voice is louder now.

“Men are watching you, undressing you with their eyes. I don’t like it. Cover up.”

“Leave me alone.” This, I shout a little louder than I’d mean to. Several men jog over to us.

“This guy bothering you?” one of the men asks.

“Yes,” I admit, lamely.

He and the several other men with him form a semi-circle around Michael, giving me the chance to gather my things and get the hell out of there, making a beeline to the parking lot.

I can hear the testosterone-fueled bravado shouted loud in the distance.

Instead of waiting for the shuttle to bring me to my car in the back parking lot, I begin the long trek to put as much space between me and Michael as possible. Fast at first until it feels like he won’t find me.

Resting a hand to my hip, I lay a hand to the burning metal of a car—it looks like a Buick—then wince from the pain, but do it taking a long, shuddering breath. Only just holding back the tears threatening to fall from my eyes. I’ve had too many reasons to cry over the last year. I’m tired of it. God, I’m so damn tired of the tears and I have this horrible feeling that they aren’t about to end anytime soon. Haven’t I earned a break?

I look to the sky, “Haven’t I earned a break?” I scream to the universe.

Damn me for letting my guard down. Did my time in Chicago, with Elise, teach me nothing?

Two strong hands grip my waist hard and snatch me between two large SUVs, blocking us from view.

“I told you men were watching.” Michael. Then he leans in and kisses me. I struggle. Shove at his chest. He barely budges. Michael laughs. “You like playing rough. I can play rough.”

“No,” I shout and claw at his face. Praying some passerby or someone on the shuttle would hear and get it to stop.

But instead of a rescue, I get Michael reaching around to pull the tie on my bikini top until my bare breasts come exposed, totally unfazed by my attempt to gouge his eyes out. In fact, he very easily wrangles my arms to my side. Too easily.

“No,” I shout again. “Stop.”

“Quit being a tease, Liv. I know you wanted me the minute we locked eyes.”

Oh god. He begins to rub his thumb over my nipple like we’re an intimate couple.

“Please stop,” I beg. Then I cry. More tears. I guess the universe doesn’t think I’ve had enough. “We didn’t lock eyes. You sat next to me at the bar.”

“Not then. I’m talking the first time. When we locked eyes and you smiled at me before you went into the Smithfield gift shop.”

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