Dangerous Tides

"And it will be so deserving," Hannah said. "You really only came tonight to harass us and eat cookies."

  "Too true," he agreed. "It always makes me feel better.

  But Kate nabbed the last cookie with frosting. When is this wedding? I'm beginning to think you aren't really going to have one, you just want to stay in Sea Haven to annoy me."

  "It's my life's work," Hannah agreed.

  "Aleksandr wants to elope," Abigail confessed. "He doesn't want to wait for the wedding of the century. He thinks it's crazy and we should just quietly marry."

  "Quietly?" Jonas made a rude, derisive sound. "The wedding of the century is going to be a circus. Doesn't he realize the entire town has to be invited or there's going to be hurt feelings?"

  "Hence the elopement."

  "I think you want to elope," Sarah remarked. "You've never liked crowds, Abbey."

  Abigail ducked her head. "Mom and Dad would be so disappointed. All the relatives are flying in and it's going to be such a huge event."

  Kate placed a hand on Abigail's arm. "That doesn't matter. It's your wedding. If you want something very small, we can sneak in a minister and have it right here with only Mom, Dad, Aunt Carol and us."

  Jonas raised his hand. "I'll kick Aleksandr's ass if you don't include me, Abbey, but I'm all for it. He is just as uncomfortable with a big wedding as you are."

  Abigail let out her breath. "How upset do you think Mom and Dad will be?"

  Elle turned on her stomach and stretched out beside Jonas. "Mom already knows you don't want a big wedding. I'm certain she's mentioned it to Dad. They want you happy, Abbey, not miserable on such an important day. You should know that."

  "It's just that Mom seems so happy planning the weddings."

  "I'm torturing Damon," Sarah said. "He's going to have to do this because I've always wanted a big wedding and he needs to realize the people in Sea Haven are important to me."

  "You just like to torture him on principal," Jonas commented. "What about Matt, Kate? Is he fine with the big wedding?"

  Kate flashed a small smile. "His mother is in seventh heaven. And she wants babies immediately. She told us to go out and multiply. Quickly. I've never seen anyone so eager for grandchildren. She's already had a play yard built at her house. I wouldn't want to take her moment away from her and neither would Matt. It's different with you, Abbey, you don't have anyone else to please. I say you should have a small private ceremony right here. We can keep it under wraps."

  "I'll do the music for you," Joley offered.

  "I can do all the baking, including a wedding cake," Hannah said. "That way no one outside the family will realize anything is going on."

  "I'll do the decorations in the house," Kate said. "Matt will help."

  Abigail's face brightened. "Are you sure Mom and Dad won't be upset?" She looked at Elle when she asked the question.

  The youngest Drake sister shrugged. "They're expecting you to tell them you want a small private ceremony. Mom and Aunt Carol have gifts, too. You all need to remember that."

  "Mom has all the gifts," Elle reminded them in a low voice.

  Joley made a face. "I'll say. Mom always knew I was going to sneak out of the house before I tried it. Sarah, you're going to be so lucky when you have children. They'll never get away with anything. Mine will turn out to be like me, so no way am I reproducing. The world, and especially me, couldn't take it."

  "You'll have children, Joley," Sarah said.

  "How? I'm not about to let some idiot of a man tie me to him." Joley shook her head adamantly. "I can't take the bossiness. And if they're yes men I'm so bored I want to scream. There just isn't a middle ground for me. I'm doomed to be alone."

  Jonas snorted derisively. "You don't sound very unhappy about it."

  "Would you want to live with you?" Joley demanded.

  "I'm perfect," Jonas declared.

  "A manly man," Sarah teased.

  "You got it babe."

  "I am turning you into a toad," Hannah said. "No one could ever live with your arrogance or your bossiness. Your poor wife would be browbeaten and your kids would run away."

  "My poor wife would keep her clothes on around other men and the world in general and only take them off for me," he said.

  "Why do you insist I take my clothes off? I wear clothes, that's my job."

  "Inez carries all the magazines if you're on the front cover, baby doll. I'm not sure I'd call what you're wearing most of the time, actual clothes. When are you getting a real job?"

  Hannah turned her face away from Jonas. Elle and Libby instantly put a hand on her, warmth and energy flowing into her. Sarah kicked Jonas. "Go home. You're annoying all of us now. You know you don't want us all angry with you."

  Jonas made it smoothly to his feet. "Protecting the Barbie Doll again. You aren't doing her any favors. She can't live off her looks forever."

  Hannah winced visibly. Her hands trembled so that she curled her fingers into fists.

  Elle stood up, her small, petite frame dwarfed by Jonas's much larger one. "You know, Jonas, if I didn't know the things I do about you, that your intentions are really the best, I'd kick your ass myself. Go away. And do it now." Her red hair crackled with electricity and in the darkened room, her body seemed to throw off light, as if all the energy inside of her was seeking a way to get out. The walls of the house expanded and contracted and the floor shifted slightly under their feet.

  Jonas scowled at her, not in the least intimidated. "I don't care what you know, Elle. And don't threaten me."

  "I'm not threatening you. If I did, you wouldn't be standing there, you'd be running for your life. In case you haven't figured it out yet, it isn't easy being me. You think I want to know what everyone is thinking or feeling at any given moment? You think it's easy to have a normal temper like the rest of the world, but be so dangerous I don't dare express anger?"

  "You're expressing it right now."

  "That's because I love you and I'd never accidentally hurt you. I don't love everyone else, you idiot. Go away before the house shakes apart and Mom and Dad are royally pissed at me."

  "Can you do that? Shake the house apart?"

  "Does it look like I can do that?" Elle countered, gesturing toward the walls.

  Her sisters were up, surrounding her, Libby putting her hands on her younger sister's shoulders so that her healing warmth flowed into the mass of boiling energy. Elle sagged back against her so that Libby slipped her arms around her.

  "It's getting harder for you, isn't it?" Libby whispered.

  Elle nodded and turned to bury her face against Libby's shoulder. "I don't know what I'm going to do."

  Jonas stepped closer and swept both sisters into his arms. "I'm sorry, Elle. I'd never make your life harder if I can help it. I can't stop being who I am, as much as I want to for you."

  Elle shot him a small smile. "I know you would, Jonas. I feel very lucky to have you in my family."

  Libby rubbed her sister's back as she watched Jonas slip out the door. The wind rushed in when he opened it so that the flames on the candles danced and flickered wildly, casting shadows along the walls. Libby didn't like the way the shadows leapt as if reaching for the Drakes, stretching clawed hands for them. She glanced uneasily at Sarah, the eldest, and saw the same recognition in her eyes. Hannah and Elle exchanged another long look of apprehension as Libby tightened her arms around Elle, holding her close to comfort them both.

  2

  SEVENTEEN-YEAR-OLD Pete Granger glanced toward the ocean and caught a glimpse through the drizzling rain of something--or someone--moving on the rising cliffs above Sea Lion Cove. His heart lurched in his chest as he slammed on the brakes to his old battered truck. Fortunately there wasn't anyone behind him and he peered at the sheer wall of rock rising above the churning ocean, swallowing the sudden lump of fear clogging his throat.

  Instinctively, he reached for his cell phone, remembering, as he put it to his ear, that there was only limited service on the coastline
and he wasn't on the one bluff that allowed him to make a call. The figure moved, and even at a distance Pete was certain he recognized his boyhood friend, Drew Madison. Frustrated, heart pumping, he set the truck in motion, racing through the series of hairpin turns before turning onto the dirt road leading to the cliffs. He nearly forgot to put on the brakes as he parked.

  The wind hit him hard as he threw open the door and ran across the muddy ground to the top of the bluff. His cap blew off and the wind tugged at his shirt. Ignoring the small fence and the warning signs to keep away from the crumbling edge, he dropped to the ground, stretching his body out flat as he crawled to the edge and peered over.

  "Drew!" The name was lost in the boom of the boiling sea. Pete cupped his hands together and tried again, putting everything he had into it. "Drew! Are you all right?" He doubted if his friend could hear the words, but then something alerted him, maybe the small trickling of dirt he'd displaced, because Drew turned his face upward toward Pete.

  Drew Madison was several feet down the muddy cliff face. Nearly one hundred feet below him the waves crashed over large, jagged rocks, throwing white spray high into the air. The boom of the ocean was loud, reverberating off the sheer rock wall. The rain appeared a dank silver-gray, the steady drizzle making it much more difficult for Pete to catch a glimpse of Drew's stark white face.

  Drew appeared small and helpless, his face streaked with mud. He shook his head and waved Pete off, hunching against a spray of ocean water as a wave dashed against the large rock formation directly below him. Pete could see skid marks in the mud, where Drew's body had gone over, sliding down the cliff face until he hit the small outcropping where he now clung.

  Pete held up his cell phone and made the motion of throwing a rope. To his astonishment, Drew shook his head harder. The rain beat down steadily getting in Pete's eyes so that he had to use his knuckles to wipe the water away, for a moment cutting off his view of Drew's white, desperate face. When his vision returned, Pete's heart leapt to his throat. Drew was gone.

  "Drew!" Pete screamed the name until he was hoarse. He inched forward until he actually slid in the mud and had to anchor his own body by hooking his boots into the fence. Frightened, he peered below to the raging water, the white caps of foam and the spray blasting over the rocks and churning up the cliff face, searching for a body. It seemed impossible for anyone to survive the fall. Even if Drew had avoided the rocks he would have fallen into the roiling sea.

  Tears blurred his vision. He stared at the top of the rock formation so long it appeared as if something was moving in slow motion. He wiped at his eyes with his knuckles and looked again. There were several outcroppings making the angle more difficult so he slithered back and repositioned himself. At once he could see on the rocks rising to meet the cliff that Drew lay in a crumbled heap and he was moving! Excited, Pete cupped his hands around his mouth.

  "Drew!"

  There was no answer, but he knew Drew was alive. He looked to be wedged between two boulders jutting up out of the sea, a part of the formation of the caves below the water-line. It seemed impossible that he could still be alive, but he definitely moved.

  "I'm getting help. They'll be coming for you, Drew!" Pete scuttled backwards like a crab until he crawled under the fence to safety and rushed back to his truck. He needed to get out a little farther on the other side of the cove where the cell phone service actually worked. It was tricky; he had to stay in one place when his body was flooded with adrenaline and wanted to move, but he gave the details to the sheriff 's office.

  He was almost back to the cliffs when he heard the wail of sirens and knew Jonas Harrington and Jackson Deveau, the sheriff and his deputy, were on the way. He sagged with relief and waited for the patrol car.

  "TY'S tuning us out," Sam Chapman announced to the ring of firefighters sitting around the table playing cards. "This is his vacation, you know. He spends weeks, even months locked up in his lab at BioLab Industries. He doesn't eat or sleep and forgets everything but staring into a microscope. He doesn't talk to a soul, just stares at little wormy things dancing on a slide."

  "He doesn't talk much here, either," Doug Higgens said.

  "He manages to recertify for helicopter rescue every ninety days," Sam said, "but that's because he likes the rush, not us."

  "I don't like you all that much either, Sam," Jim Brannigan, the helicopter pilot, announced. "You took all my money the last card game."

  Tyson Derrick barely registered the continuous ribbing of the other firefighters at the Helitack station. It was true, he often forgot to eat and went days without sleeping, so focused on his research he forgot the world around him. Working the fire season provided him with a small respite, an opportunity for interaction with others as well as the adrenaline rush he needed outside the lab. Yet even that no longer seemed to be working for him. Something was missing. He had to get a life.

  "Wake up, Ty." Sam Chapman slapped him on the back. "You haven't heard a word I've said."

  "I heard," Tyson replied. "It just didn't merit a response. And by the way, Sam, I keep telling you odds are always against you in cards. Right now you're looking at two-hundred-and-twenty-to-one odds. That's just not that good. Sean has a much better chance at forty-three-point-two to one."

  "Thanks so much for that little lesson," Sam said, tossing his cards on the table. He grinned at the circle of faces surrounding them as he ribbed his cousin. "Ty told me last night he's ready to settle down with the perfect woman. He just needs to find himself a woman who doesn't mind him disappearing for weeks or months on end while he works in his lab, or goes skydiving or parasailing or mountain climbing. You know, a saint."

  A roar of laughter went up at Ty's expense. He wasn't easygoing and comfortable like his cousin, Sam. Sam just fit in anywhere and he had a natural ability to make others laugh. Ty forced a faint grin. "That's what I should be thinking about," he agreed. "I can't seem to get my mind off one of the projects at BioLab."

  Sam groaned. "I thought you completed all your projects and whatever you were working on . . ."

  "Not exactly, I'm currently working on an ongoing project to identify a series of compounds that are potent in vitro inhibitors . . ."

  "Stop, Ty." Sam shoved his hand through his hair. "You're going to give us all a headache. No wonder you're thinking of settling down. No one could live full-time worrying about things like that. I probably can't pronounce half the things you work on."

  Ty shrugged, a frown settling over his face. "It isn't my Hepatitis C project I was thinking about. Some time ago the company began developing a new drug using the basic findings of the cellular regeneration study for external wounds I did a few years ago. They believe they have a potential internal drug to fight cancer, but I just have this hunch that something's not right with it. I've been doing a little moonlighting . . ."

  "Ty . . ." Sam shook his head. "You're supposed to be putting all that behind you when you come here. You looked like hell when you showed up for training. You might as well be in prison the way you get so wrapped up in all that."

  "It's just that this drug has the very real potential to help a lot of cancer patients if they get it right. Harry Jenkins is heading up the project and he isn't as thorough as he should be. He tends to take shortcuts because he wants recognition more than he wants to get it right." He was suddenly all too aware of the silence of the others around him. That was the way it was with him. He didn't fit in, no matter how hard he tried. Most conversations seemed trivial to him when his mind was always working on unlocking some key and preferred to keep working no matter how hard he tried to shut it off.

  "This internal drug isn't even your department," Sam said. "I'll bet old Harry doesn't like you much, does he?"

  "Well, no," Ty admitted reluctantly. Harry didn't like him at all. He doubted if many people did. He wished it mattered to him, but only Sam really counted. He didn't like letting Sam down. "But it isn't a popularity contest. This drug could save lives. And the ne
w drug is based on my earlier work in cell regeneration. If they get it wrong, I'd feel responsible."

  "Great. You're going to spend your off time in that makeshift lab in our basement, aren't you?" Sam asked. "I planned white-water rafting and a couple of rock climbing trips as well as parasailing. You'd better not back out on me again."

  Ty sat back in his chair and studied his cousin's handsome face. Sam managed to look petulant at times. He was the only man Ty knew who could pull off the look and still appeal to women. He'd seen it a million times. Sam had charm. Ty often wished he had just a little of whatever it was that Sam had. Sam got along with people. He could bullshit with the best of them and everyone liked him.

  Ty knew he had embarrassed Sam more than once through the years with his abrupt, abrasive manner. How many times had he missed some trip or outing Sam had planned because time got away from him and fun with the boys wasn't nearly as exciting as working in the lab, following the trail of an inhibitor that might work on T-cells? The bottom line was, it didn't matter that he had an enormous IQ; he felt awkward in the company of others--and he probably always would-- but he just didn't care enough to make time to improve his social skills.

  It was always an adjustment, living with Sam for three months out of the year. Ida Chapman had left her son, Sam, and her nephew, Tyson, her house when she'd passed away five years earlier. Ty always looked forward to visiting Sam, but that first month was difficult. Ty was used to being alone and not speaking to anyone, and Sam liked conversation. "I don't back out of our trips," Ty said. His frown deepened as Sam remained silent. "Do I?" He rubbed the bridge of his nose. He probably had, more than once. Disappointing Sam yet again.

  Sam shrugged. "It doesn't matter, Ty. I'm just giving you a hard time. You're a biochemist. They're all crazy."

  "And helicopter crews aren't?"

  A roar of laughter went up. Sam held out his hands, palms up. "All right, you've got me there."

  "I want to hear more about Ty's saint. Is she blond and built?" Rory Smith asked. He rubbed his hands together. "Let's get to the good stuff."

  "That's your idea of the perfect woman, Rory," Doug Higgens observed, jabbing the firefighter in the arm. "And you definitely don't want a saint. What does she look like, Ty? You found her yet?"