Jay saved him, strolling into the dining room with Duke, his fluffy camel-colored cat, in his arms. Kyle could hear the cat purring from several feet away. Coastie, Jay’s Brittany Spaniel, and constant companion, trotted beside him looking every bit as intelligent and vigilant as Kyle knew her to be.
Jay smiled at Kyle. “Hey, there’s our hero. Just saw the story on the news again this morning.”
Kyle gave his head a shake of bemused exasperation.
“Heard you got the job,” Jay said, and Kyle appreciated that his brother-in-law understood that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Not that he ever had. “Welcome to the civilian life of the gainfully employed.”
“Thanks, man.”
“Sucks for me though—no more free labor.”
“Not exactly free.” Kyle had been filling most of his days by working with Jay on construction jobs. Ironically, he now knew his brother-in-law, whom he’d only met a month ago, better than he did his sister. “I appreciate you guys letting me bunk here.”
Jay waved off the thanks. “I have an old Coast Guard buddy who works for Dahlia. I’ve heard the pay is outstanding.”
Mia let out a quiet sigh.
Kyle nodded at Jay. “It is.”
“What’s outstanding pay?” Lanie, Jay’s sixteen-year-old sister, strolled into the room.
“Kyle’s new job with Dahlia International.” This came from Levi who, enviably, had finished his omelet and moved on to a bowl of fruit.
“What is that, like a florist?” Laney gave Kyle a doubtful frown. “Retiring from the military is one thing. Taking up flower arranging is altogether another. That’s a total waste of your soldiering skills, Uncle Kyle.”
Kyle laughed. Soon after meeting him, Laney had started calling him “Uncle Kyle,” declaring that she’d always wanted a “cool uncle.” Kyle had no idea how he’d passed the cool test with these teens, but he already adored them both.
Levi chuckled and answered, “Dahlia International is not a florist, Lanes. It’s the fourth largest military security and intelligence contractor in the world. Kyle will be working security detail.”
In the short time, Kyle had been in Pacific Cove he’d been continually amazed by Levi’s maturity and intellect. Studious, thoughtful, responsible, he reminded Kyle of Mia when they were growing up. He even wanted to be a veterinarian.
Hands on hips, Laney gave Kyle the stare-down. “So that means you’ll still be in combat-type situations, right?”
Kyle tried not to smile. Laney, on the other hand, was more like him: confident, adventurous, athletic, but also fearless in a way that might border on reckless if not kept in check. She’d quizzed him relentlessly about his life as a SEAL. No matter how much he downplayed combat and tried not to glamorize it, Laney remained fascinated. Just like he’d been by his dad and all things military.
“Not as much,” he answered carefully.
“I still wish you’d teach me how to handle a firearm. Jay’s not comfortable doing it.”
Mia’s frown deepened. Laney’s interest in military life, and with him, seemed to irritate Mia.
Laney often talked about joining the military or law enforcement, with the FBI or CIA as her ultimate goal. Kyle thought with the years of life experience college would bring, she’d be an excellent candidate for the profession.
“That’s because a professional instructor would be best. There are classes you can take.”
“Yes! A class is a great idea.”
Mia went wide-eyed and pinned a glare on Kyle.
Yep, it was entirely possible he’d worn out his welcome. The timing seemed right to get out of Mia’s hair, not to mention that it would be nice to have his own space at Harper’s, even if it was only temporary.
“Hey, Annie Oakley,” Nora said, stepping out of the kitchen and grinning at Laney. “You want pepitas in your omelet?”
And ham. Unlimited access to bacon and ham would also be a bonus.
NOT ONLY WAS it not in Kyle’s nature to panic, the navy had honed his tactical response to one of logic and action. Granted, he’d never been in this specific situation before…unable to locate the woman he’d been hired to protect.
After breakfast with his family, he’d collected his stuff, which consisted of a backpack, a duffel bag, a suitcase and a cardboard box. The first two pieces he’d loaded into his vintage, someday-to-be-restored pickup. The remaining items he’d stowed at his mom’s apartment before driving to his new place of employment where he arrived a half hour before the agreed upon meeting time.
Kyle assessed Harper’s house again and approved of the fact that while spacious and well-kept, nothing about the older, two-story beachfront home screamed ostentatious. It was painted an attractive dove gray with frosty-white trim. The large lot provided privacy and plenty of space but not enough to draw undue attention. No one would guess the daughter of a billionaire lived here.
Harper had given him the key to his temporary residence the night before, so he let himself inside the guest cottage next door. With one spacious bedroom, and an open kitchen, dining, living area, the space reminded him of a swanky bungalow at a fancy resort. He was pleased to discover that it was fully stocked with household essentials.
To pass the time, he placed a shortcut to Harper’s cell phone on his home screen and then played with her security app. He made a list of topics to cover with her over the next few days. When 8:37 rolled around with no word from her, an uneasy feeling began to creep over him. He tapped the icon to call her phone; it went straight to voice mail. Five minutes later, he tried again. He left a message and followed that immediately with a text. After an additional five minutes passed without a response, he pulled up the app again and checked the security footage from that morning.
Within seconds, he was watching Harper leave her house via the back door, the time display glowing 6:21 a.m. Why hadn’t she called or texted to let him know she was going somewhere? More to the point, why hadn’t she called or texted to let him know she’d be late for their meeting? Why wasn’t she answering his calls now?
Kyle reviewed the footage carefully, looking for clues as to where she might have gone. The sun hadn’t yet risen, but the deck was lit with well-placed motion lights. A daypack was secured on her shoulders, visible when she turned and paused briefly outside the door, locking it, he assumed. She paused for a moment before turning away from the door, and then hurried toward the set of stairs leading down to the beach where she disappeared from sight.
None of these actions would be causing him much concern if she’d answer her phone. Because if she’d simply gone out for a morning stroll on the beach, why wouldn’t she pick up? He called again, and again it went straight to voice mail.
Internal alarm bells now ringing loudly, Kyle grabbed his sweatshirt and headed out the door. The air was thick with mist. Slipping the garment on while jogging down the steps, he quickly realized he should have worn his rain jacket. At the bottom, he discovered the thick fluffy sand littered with footprints. He could see that most of them appeared to be roughly the same size, suggesting they were Harper’s, but the varying age of the tracks told him this was the accumulation of days and days of excursions onto the beach. Toward the ocean, where the softer sand turned firmer, he could make out a fresh set of prints more distinctly outlined than the rest and heading south.
He followed the tracks. The unmistakable scent of the beach’s many tide-swept offerings drifted around him on the damp air, fish, seaweed and assorted moldering marine detritus. The combination was distinctive and familiar. The son of an ambitious navy officer meant his family had moved