front door, greeted by silence instead of Ann singing along with Beatles’ CDs. She sat at the kitchen table with her coffee and rather than talk over the day with her mother, stared at an empty chair. So she sold the house to a couple awaiting the birth of their first child, and purchased the condo. Not really a home, just a place to live.
With all her good friends paired, Laura’s college roommate, Kate, insisted she needed to date more, have a man in her life. Jack Miller had been Kate’s neighbor in her upscale apartment complex of six-figure-income professionals. Laura found Jack nice enough, their dinners out and movie dates had been pleasant, but no firecrackers splintered, not even an ember … perhaps she had read too many romance novels or heard too many stories from Ann Roberts about her courtship and love for Laura’s father. Laura’s sole remembrance of her parents together was how her mother had sparkled whenever her father had walked into a room. She thought love, relationship, marriage was supposed to be that way. Yet, no one she had met brought her that special glow.
After three months of dating, Jack’s commercial real estate firm offered him a promotion to project manager. With the advancement came a transfer, overseeing a new commercial development in Oregon. He had relocated within ten days. A light email exchange for the first few weeks had followed, then nothing. If truth were told, the deal had turned into the perfect way out of a relationship that wasn’t heading anywhere. With Jack’s move, Laura was back to microwave dinners in her condo and movies on the television.
No, despite Kate’s prodding, Jack hadn’t been the one for Laura. She didn’t just want a man to enjoy a movie with. She wanted a partner, someone to trust, someone to share life’s burdens and joys, who made her cheeks twinge from smiling. Someone to laugh and cry with through life.
All of which seemed insignificant now as she stared at her swollen face in the mirror, finding herself in a living nightmare. She tried to make sense of what had happened, but her head hurt. She was thankful her mother wasn’t alive to worry about her. Dear God, two men had intended to kill her. She couldn’t even determine if she had made the right decision taking off with Chase Donovan. He had sworn his arrival had been by chance, his words a ploy to get those wretched men off the boat.
Chase had opportunity to hurt her if those were his intentions. He seemed sincere in wanting to help her, or maybe she wanted him to be sincere, wanted somebody to help her. She wanted to notbe afraid. Chase said he was in the dark about what was happening on the boat, maybe about the FBI, too.
She stepped into the green fleece. Besides, she wasn’t defenseless; she had the pen knife in one pocket, and the gun’s attachment in her other pocket. She decided to join Chase.
Inside the wheelhouse looked like one big ballpark scoreboard with buttons and lights. All it needed were bells and whistles. Chase sat on a stool, his hands clutching the wheel. The muted boat lights guided them. He concentrated on the vast body of water, dark and murky in the night shadows. Laura noticed the bright blue of his eyes. The intense expression on his handsome face as he concentrated on commanding the boat. A spark flickered inside her that she didn’t quite understand.
“Chase,” she called softly.
He hadn’t heard her in her thick sock-covered feet come up behind him. “I hope you don’t get seasick,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.
“No. I like the ocean.”
He slid from the stool and waved her to sit, all without losing his focus on the ocean before him.
“How are you feeling?” he asked.
She sat on the stool. “My head hurts.”
“Can you describe the pain?”
“Like a dull toothache.”
“But you’re not dizzy, are you?”
“No.”
“Nausea?”
She shook her head. “No.”
He held his index and middle finger in front of her