Elizabeth Goddard - Stormy Haven

If it was the man from Miami, would she recognize him if she saw him, considering that much of what happened had been lost in the recesses of her mind? Some of her memories of that incident were as clear as Ian standing before her now. But she couldn’t remember the face of the man who had shot her.

Maybe...maybe it had nothing at all to do with what happened in Miami, and the man on the beach this morning really had been the Shoreline Killer.

Ian had saved her today. Protection poured off of him. She had the sudden urge to go to Ian and let him wrap his arms around her. To be held and comforted and protected. But Jonna shoved the unbidden thoughts away and stood taller. She walked backward, willing herself to want nothing more than to feel the door to her cabin—her safe haven—against her back.

“I’ll meet you ten minutes in front of the fireplace, okay?”

“See you then.” He waited until she’d walked the rest of the length of the enclosure and opened and closed her door.

Jonna snuck a glance through the peephole. He lingered a few more seconds and then disappeared around the corner.

Pressing her back against the door, she calmed her pounding heart. She rushed to the side table and opened the drawer. Withdrew Max, then searched her cabin just to be sure she was alone. Chop Suey, her big tabby cat—a Maine Coon—snoozed on the top of the maroon thrift-shop armchair next to the window, without a care in the world, oblivious to the tension rolling through Jonna.

She wanted to collapse on the sofa. Too much had happened in the last hour, not the least of which was one of her guests turning out to be a hero.

He’d booked a room in the main lodge a little over a week ago, and since then, she’d found herself looking at him now and again. Taking in his strong features and lithe physique. His thick, mussed black hair that hugged his collar. She’d imagined running her fingers through that hair, and then scolded herself for the silly fantasy. She shouldn’t have these entirely too-personal thoughts. She couldn’t allow herself the luxury of a relationship. But she kept wondering if there was a Mrs. Brady. Or if he waited here, expecting a close friend to show up. She shouldn’t be having those kinds of thoughts about one of her guests.

She learned her lesson a couple of years after Aunt Debby had bought the lodge—a fixer-upper—as an investment. She’d hired Jonna to run the place, keeping her niece’s name out of the paperwork for now. Peter was the contractor who’d helped renovate and restore the building.

She could easily have fallen for Peter. He was handsome. Charming. Clearly interested in her. Maybe she’d still been vulnerable after what she’d endured. Peter had been there to comfort her and...he’d asked too many questions about her life and her past. He’d only wanted to get to know her better, but she didn’t want to revisit the ugliness in Miami. Her reluctance to answer his questions had frustrated and then angered him as he demanded to know what she was hiding. The relationship that could have been fell apart quickly after that. And so she’d put Peter behind her, just like she’d put behind her everything that had happened in Miami.

She got up and peeked through the mini blinds and out the window to make sure the man hadn’t made his way back. The storm still raged outside. Maybe that would deter him for a while.

She settled at the kitchen table and thought back to her messed-up life.

If she couldn’t share all of her life with Peter, then she had no business letting the relationship go deeper.

Nothing had changed. She was still too broken, and could never truly let herself be vulnerable enough to love or be loved.

And now with this attack on her life, she realized she could never let down her guard. Trouble seemed to find her one way or another.

She’d endangered a guest today, but she was grateful he’d stepped into the fray.

Since Ian had checked in at her lodge, they’d forged a laid-back friendship, neither of them sharing too much about themselves. Just enough to make conversation and still hold everything close. At least that had been her intention, and she sensed he was no different.

While his friendship had been just right—exactly what she’d needed, she feared that if given too much leeway, her heart could easily step across the line she’d drawn. Somehow she had to keep her heart from betraying her.

Enough of these thoughts! Someone from the sheriff’s department could already be here.

After donning warm slacks, a floral T-shirt and soft sweater, she quickly towel dried her hair. It would have to do. She put on blush and lipstick, then paused as she stared at herself. She hardly ever used makeup unless it was a special occasion where she was dressed to impress.

What am I doing? Some part of her had wanted to look good for Ian, but that was ridiculous. She absolutely wasn’t going there with him or anyone. She couldn’t afford to.

Jonna exited her cabin and entered the lodge, fireflies dancing in her stomach at not only meeting Ian again, but also facing the substation deputy, Ollie Shane. Or would Sheriff Garrison himself show up? That would depend on where he was in the county when the call came through.

She hurried around the corner to the large living area comfortably decorated and boasting a massive fireplace and panoramic window. A few guests lingered, their attention drawn to something outside—storm watching. The reason they came to Oceanview Lodge.

Jonna didn’t see Ian. She breathed a sigh of relief and planted a smile for the benefit of the guests, but as she neared the window to face the storm, she realized what had garnered their attention. It wasn’t the storm after all, but the two men standing on the landing of the steps to the right down below them.

Wearing a weatherproof jacket, Ian stood with Sheriff Garrison near the edge of the awning, barely safe from the wind and rain. So the sheriff himself had come to investigate. Ian gestured with his hands, apparently sharing the events of the last hour without her. Why were they outside, though? Had Ian been showing the sheriff the rocks where it all happened?

She wanted to share her side of the story but didn’t want to go back out into the storm.

“Jonna, what’s going on?” DiAnn Morrison, one of her employees and a good friend, approached. “Why’s the sheriff here?”

Jonna urged DiAnn down the hall toward the kitchen. Only employees used it so she didn’t have to worry about a guest overhearing her words. She didn’t want to alarm anyone, not until she’d spoken to the sheriff, but DiAnn should know. “A man tried to shoot me on the beach.”

DiAnn took a step back, sheer terror in her eyes. “What did you say?”

Jonna didn’t repeat herself but simply waited, allowing DiAnn to absorb the news.

“I can’t believe it. That’s just horrible.”

“Please keep all of this to yourself,” Jonna urged. “At least let me speak to the sheriff first and see how he wants to handle it.”

“You don’t think it’s that...that serial killer, do you?”

“I don’t know. Be on the lookout for anything or anyone suspicious.”

DiAnn eased into a chair. Jonna would leave her to compose herself. Once she’d calmed down, she’d be able to calmly divert any questions the guests might have. DiAnn would know to maintain the bright and cheery demeanor that kept the guests coming back every year. She left DiAnn and grabbed a jacket on the hook by the kitchen door, then braved the storm again. Wind and rain lambasted her as she made her way around and found the two men behind a protective barrier that blunted the storm’s effects.

“And why were you there on the beach?”

At the question aimed toward Ian, Jonna hesitated revealing herself. She wanted to hear the answer to that, unfettered by her presence. She hadn’t even considered the question of why Ian had been on the beach, which meant her skills were getting rusty.