Burnt by Karly Lane Page A

twenties. Taking a menacing step towards him, blocking his retreat, Seb gave him the thunderous glare he knew had made more than a few new recruits quietly shit themselves. ‘What the fuck is your problem, mate?’ he said, keeping his voice low and controlled.
    For a minute the guy didn’t answer, his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish’s, but after a few seconds he seemed to recover his wits and a burning hatred flared into his eyes.
    The sudden change surprised Seb, but he continued to stare down the smaller man.
    â€˜You don’t remember me, do you?’ the guy snarled.
    â€˜Should I?’ Seb snarled in reply.
    The guy’s lip curled in a sneer and Seb’s eyes narrowed further. There was something about him that nudged the edge of his memory. Something that was making him recoil in warning.
    â€˜You sure you don’t know me, Mr Army Jerk ?’
    Was the guy insane? Who the hell riled up a guy who was twice his bloody size and already pissed off?
    â€˜Why? Did we date once?’ Seb said sarcastically.
    The guy took a step closer, bringing him too far into Seb’s personal space for comfort, before yelling, ‘Murderer!’
    With a shove to the shoulder, Seb pushed him aside and walked back to his car. He saw people poking their heads out the doors of shops to see what was causing the commotion, but he didn’t meet anyone else’s gaze, slamming the door of his four-wheel drive behind him loudly. Turning the ignition, he pulled away from the curb.
    He went numb as the adrenaline subsided, and his fingers began to tingle as though they’d fallen asleep. Nausea rose in his stomach and he forced it down. The urge to run – to just point the car in the opposite direction and drive away – was so strong that he didn’t realise he was actually heading into Macksville until he came to the railway line. What was he doing? He drove through town and down towards the river, parking by the water and easing his frame out of the car stiffly.
    Seb went to the river bank to stand and stare down into the rocks and watch the water lap against the sides. They’d done the place up a bit since he’d last been here. He took a deep breath and could smell the salty tang of the brackish water. The creek at his father’s property was all fresh water, but the river was pretty much salt. It was only another few kilometres from here that the river met the ocean at Nambucca.
    Something caught his eye as he stared out over the water, scanning the surface more thoroughly. A sleek body rose from the water in a graceful arc and he caught his breath as it went back under again. Dolphins. How many times had he and Bec stood on the river bank and watched for them? He continued to follow their progress now; at least four of the big, smooth-skinned creatures swam past before the sound of happy squealing children coming from the other side of the river caught his attention. As he focused on the trio, he saw Bec rise gracefully from the sand and follow two little girls into the water.
    On a whim, and against his better judgement, he walked across the bridge that separated South and North Macksville to the little manmade beach, complete with white sand and a boat-mooring pontoon.
    He sat on a big log under the shade of the gum trees and simply enjoyed watching mother and daughters frolic. Her hair was loose and flowing to her shoulders. She wore an Australian flag–patterned bikini top with matching board shorts – and the flag had never looked so damn good.
    He dragged his gaze from Bec to the kids and couldn’t help the smile that formed on his lips. They were clones of their mother, except one had a darker shade of hair like her mum and the other was blonde. They looked … happy.
    He let his mind drift to the land of make-believe – where, if things had been different – they might have been his kids. Clenching his jaw against that stupid fantasy,