Hurricane Bay by Heather Graham Page B

special, raising all kinds of trouble.
    Still…
    He looked around his domain. Strange, once it had been clean. Sheila’s mother had been good for something. She had cooked, too.
    But he couldn’t really remember what the place had looked like back then. There had been food in the refrigerator, and not so many beer cans. The cockroach would have died a lot happier if he had come all those years ago.
    Now the place was a dump. Nothing but fast-food wrappers and beer cans. So what if the police came? They would probably leave damn quick.
    He left the house, not bothering to lock his door. No one ever came out this road. There were only two other houses, and a bunch of mangrove roots and water. Angus Grier lived in the closest house, and he was ninety if he was a day. And the kids who had rented the other place…they were stoned out of their minds most the time. There wasn’t much reason to lock up his place. If a thief came by…well, hell, he was welcome to steal anything in the place.
    Because once he drove away from it, Andy Latham knew that he was a different man.

CHAPTER 3
    D ane followed Kelsey back to the duplex.
    She was probably going to accuse him of stalking her, but he still wanted to see that she got home safely. Besides, he could just knock on Cindy’s door after he made sure Kelsey had gone on into Sheila’s side.
    He knew Kelsey was aware that he was following her, but she pretended not to see him as she parked, exited her cranberry Volvo and entered the house. Dane parked the Land Rover and took the steps up to Cindy’s door. As he tapped on it, Cindy appeared at the door to the other half of the duplex, Sheila’s half, now Kelsey’s.
    â€œDane! Hey, we’re over here.”
    â€œHey, Cindy.”
    He walked across the tiled concrete front porch and greeted Cindy with a quick peck on the cheek. She never changed. Sweet and smart, Cindy always expected the best from everyone. But then, she’d never met with much personal adversity. Both her folks were still living just down the highway. She had two younger sisters and a ten-year-old brother. Her father, a transplanted Yankee, owned one of the largest charter fishing boat companies in the area.
    Cindy had called to tell him that Kelsey was on her way out to talk to Andy Latham. Dane hadn’t at all liked the idea of her being out there alone. Of course, he’d known that Kelsey wouldn’t be particularly glad to see him out there—she would hardly think of him as a knight in shining armor—but he’d made tracks to get out there as soon as possible anyway.
    â€œCome on in,” Cindy said. “We were about to have quiche and beer.” She wrinkled her nose. “Reheated quiche and beer. But it’s still good. I can cook. Well, kind of, anyway.”
    â€œSounds great, Cindy, but I already ate.”
    â€œCome in for a beer, at least. I mean, you’re here, aren’t you?” she demanded, blue eyes wide.
    â€œSure.” He needed to talk to Kelsey, and it was damn certain she was never going to invite him in.
    He followed Cindy into Sheila’s side of the duplex. Kelsey was seated on a bar stool, a plate and a beer in front of her. Her shoes were off, one ankle curled around a leg of the stool. The sunglasses were gone, and he could see her eyes. Blue-green. Like a color that had been plucked right out of a shallow sea on a sunlit day.
    He could see that she was surprised and definitely not pleased that Cindy had invited him in.
    â€œLook who’s here,” Cindy said pleasantly.
    â€œSurprise, surprise,” Kelsey murmured.
    â€œYou’re sure you don’t want some quiche, Dane?” Cindy asked.
    â€œNo, thanks.”
    Cindy reached into the fridge and produced a bottle of beer. “But you’ll have a beer with us, right?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œRight. He hasn’t had enough to drink today,” Kelsey said.
    For a moment