Into the Flames (Perilous Connections: Book Two) by Delka Beazer Page A

in a few days. First I have to make sure that she’s okay before I close that door.
    I want to touc h her now and I reach out for her slender fingers bunched around the rope , but she hurriedly slides them away. My mouth thins. I expected this but it still rubs me raw.
    “I’m not the devil you know.” I force a crooked smile.
    She huffs, shoots me a golden gla nce, then her lashes sweep down immediately , and I miss whatever emotions she is trying to hide from me . “So you say.”
    I manage to laug h at that. I like her sharp wit, love it actually. It was one of the first things I saw in her face, keen intelligence and humor.
    I join he r in contemplating the water . “Do you like the sea?”
    She draws in a little breath, and it sounds … sad. “My dad did.”
    “Really. Why?” Immediately I know it’s a stupid ques tion. All Caribbean folks seem to feel something toward the sea, whether for its beauty or its healthful benefits . It was to them another extension of the land, a usually calm, liquid half that provided their weekly swim.
    She turns then and my heart softens as I take in her reddened eyes, and the trembling chin that she is fighting to control. T he urge to reach out nearly overpowers me and I have to clench my ha nd until I can feel each of the bones in them.
    “My dad was a part- time fis herman.” Her voice breaks and with it my control snaps and I snatch her h and before she can pull it away. H er eyes search mine and I hold her look, cra dling her hand securely in mine.
    The skin of her palms is roughened from maid work, but that doesn’t detract from the elegant lines of the bones in her fingers. I caress them and she stiffens beneath my touch bu t amazingly does not pull away.
    From earlier conversations I can sense how painful it is for her to talk about her father. T hough I wa nt to pursue it because it means that she would be reminiscing instead of savaging me with her to ngue, I exert some decency and leave her to grieve for the loss of her father .
    “Can you swim?” I ask, hoping to dispel some of the gloom from her face.
    Her bottom lips quivers and for a moment I think she’s ab out to cry but instead an embarr assed laugh escapes her. “A little, though I tend to sink.”
    I chuckle, sharing her m irth. “How come? You’re not …” Oh no, my incredibly stupid tongue has done it again. An outraged gasp whooshes from between her lips and she shoots me a quelling look before she tugs her hand away from me .
    I cinch my lip s together givi ng my mouth a deserved rest. I w ould kick my own ass if I were that flexible. How stupid ca n I be? Her weight is no enigma to me because less than an hour ago she’d been slung around my hips, my han ds cupping her bottom as we ’d rocked together against a wall.
    I open my mouth to apologize when something collid es with me so hard I barely stop myself from tumbling backwards into the water below the pier . Daphne shrieks and reaches for me, with her assistance I qu ickly find my footing and we both swing around.
    And there is Stacy!
    I barely regain my balance before she flings herself into my arms, laughing, crying, rambling like a crazy lunatic.
    “W hoa … wait … wait just a minute ,” I hold her out from me, “Stacy? What the hell are you doing here?”
    “Oh Nate. You can’t know. It’s so good to see you. So good.” She breaks down and starts sobbing. I clasp her to me and hush her, even as she buries her face in my chest, a not u nknown region of my body as she is a past lover . E ven w ith my mind working a mile-a-minute I see Daphne re treat a few steps away from us. Distancing herself from me.
    “No . D on’t go,” I hold out my hand to her but she simply ignores me and walks away. I grit my teeth in frustration. I cannot chase her again, not now.
    Instead I tilt Stacy’s head back and stare down into her trusting green eyes. T his close I see the fading yellow bruises on her cheek, and the cut in the middle of