Carly Phillips: Under the Boardwalk

Until he spoke. “Don’t worry about your sister. Zoe’s strong. After all, she’s an Addams.”

Which was enough for Ariana. “I need some air.” She stepped outside and left behind the commotion, which had begun again.

Blocking out her family, Ariana started for Islet Pier. Though it was fall, she couldn’t mistake the smell of the ocean, a part of living in a coastal town. And a part she missed when in the mountains of Vermont. Only after she’d walked far from her house did she realize she should have grabbed her coat. The cool breeze from the water and the fall temperatures combined to chill her skin. With home being the alternative, she shoved her hands into her front pants pockets and strode on.

Not surprisingly, Islet Pier and the stretch of beach she and her sister used to frequent when they were kids were empty. Ariana recalled the many hours she and Zoe had played together here and the good times they’d shared, the pictures in her mind as vivid as if she and Zoe were together now. A lump rose to Ariana’s throat along with the determination to find her twin and set things right between them.

A voice muffled by the sound of crashing waves interrupted her thoughts. Ariana believed she was imagining things brought on by her memories. Then she heard it again.

“Zoe!” the male voice yelled out more clearly.

Surprised, Ariana lifted her head and hoped that she’d see her sister, alive and well and as real as the sand surrounding her. She stepped out from the covering of Islet Pier and looked into the glare of the sun. At the same moment a shot rang out and a hard body threw Ariana to the ground.

• • •

“Hey, mister!”

Quinn Donovan stepped out of the SouthSideCenter, a town-run facility for down-on-their-luck kids. He glanced at the gangly street urchin on the corner, all long limbs and wisecracking smile. “Hey, Sam. How you doing today?”

“Not bad. Bet I can tell you where you got them shoes.”

Quinn looked down at his scuffed loafers. “Where’d I get my shoes?” he asked, playing along.

The teen paused a beat before continuing. “You got ’em on your feet.” “Sam” was Samantha, and she burst into belly-aching laughter at the same joke Quinn heard from her every time he volunteered. Quinn came by often to help, playing basketball with the kids or cleaning or doing whatever else was necessary.

He glanced at Sam and chuckled. Sam and the other kids reminded Quinn of his real life and prevented him from losing touch with who he really was. He’d pulled strings to get Sam placed in a decent foster home, and he refused to put up with any shit that would jeopardize her placement there.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” he asked her.

“Shouldn’t you mind your own business?” The laughter quickly died as her huge green eyes flashed with defiant, angry sparks.

Quinn had been the same rebellious pain in the ass at that age. Stepping closer, he pulled the Yankees cap off her head and a mass of tangled blonde hair fell over her shoulders. Without the disguise she appeared younger and more vulnerable. Smart foster kids like Sam tried to beat the system by making themselves invisible in the mistaken belief they’d have a better chance at remaining in one home.

Shut up and don’t cause trouble was the mantra repeated by caseworkers. Quinn ought to know. But even Quinn with all his experience hadn’t known the kid was a girl until the third time they met. He hoped that once she adjusted, she’d trust her new foster family and revert to looking like what she was, a feminine young teen.

“They don’t let you wear hats in school. Go now or I’m calling Aaron and Felice,” he told her.

Sam’s bravado crumbled and tears welled in her huge eyes. “They won’t care, Quinn. Felice is pregnant and they don’t need me around anymore.”

Before Quinn could react, Sam took off in the direction of school. “Oh hell,” he muttered.

Aaron and Felice were a young couple who’d failed at adoption too many times. They’d turned to foster care and requested a girl, even accepting a teenager, something few families willingly did. A hardass by nature, Quinn still had faith in Sam’s foster parents.

He ran his hand through his already windblown hair and made a mental note to check in with Felice before pushing his thoughts toward his problems.

His Chevy Blazer sat parked across the street, but the crisp fall air, combined with the possibility of being alone, called to him. He had time before he had to return to the charade he was currently living, and damned if he wasn’t going to make the most of it. He headed for the boardwalk and Islet Pier, the place that had been his refuge for as long as he could remember.

At this time of year the beach was deserted, the snack shacks were empty, and all would remain that way till spring. He breathed in the salty air and a sense of peace filled him-until his serenity was broken.

A jet black-haired woman strode down the steps, onto the sand, and toward the pier, beneath where Quinn stood. Her long dark hair blew around her shoulders in wild disarray, and the classic profile was unmistakable. A jolt of familiarity kicked him in the gut.

“No frigging way,” he muttered aloud. Hadn’t he taken care of Zoe Costas himself?

He calmed his thoughts and suddenly the other possibility dawned, this one more frightening than the last. If it wasn’t Zoe he was watching beneath Islet Pier, it was her twin, Ari, the college psychology professor who Zoe had sworn was safely in Vermont. Who Zoe had promised wouldn’t return to Ocean Isle and get in the way. Not on a bet. No matter how grief stricken Ari would have been when she heard of her twin’s presumed death, Ari wouldn’t desert her students mid-semester and fly home. She’d grieve in her own world, the sane world she’d escaped to years before. Zoe had promised.

Shit, he thought, shaking his head. Obviously, because of their estrangement, Zoe had no idea what her twin would or wouldn’t do. Because Ari was here.

And Quinn had a problem.

Before he could decide what to do about it, the distinct sound of a male voice yelled above the crashing waves. A split second later, a shot rang out. Acting on instinct, Quinn jumped from the pier and tackled Ari to the ground.

• • •

Ariana hit the sand hard, grunting on impact. Pain shot through her chest. But even with the wind knocked out of her, she was keenly aware of the hard male above her and the too real knowledge that someone had taken a shot.

At her.

Waves beat against the shore and seagulls screeched in the air, but in her ear, she felt hot, heavy breath. Every last nerve ending came alive with a female awareness she hadn’t felt in so long.

Seconds passed in which neither of them moved. Not only was Ariana covered by a heavy male body, but he smelled extremely good. He was a combination of muscle and determination. And he’d either saved her life or fired that gunshot. She wasn’t about to wait around to find out which.

As soon as he rolled away from her, she rose to her feet and took off at a run, zigzagging across the beach. The sand slowed her effort and she hadn’t made it more than halfway to the main road before he grabbed her around the waist. Hauling her into his arms, he pulled her behind a vacant snack shack.

“What the hell kind of run was that?” he asked, breathing too easily considering she was huffing and puffing.

“Serpentine,” she managed to explain, through her wheezing and fear.

Behind her, she thought she heard him laugh. “From The In-Laws ?” His amused voice held utter disbelief.

But Ariana wasn’t laughing. She had escaped into old movies to get away from her family’s antics, and she’d obviously learned something. “If you ask me, you ought to be applauding my ability to think on my feet. When someone shoots at you, you don’t give them a straight place to aim. You give them a moving target instead. It makes sense to me.”