Mad Sea (2 page)

Unafraid of my gruff exterior, she sashays right up to me and invades my personal space. I’m about three seconds from hauling her onto this bike with me and taking her home.

“Ask in the next five seconds, and the answer will be yes. Ask me after, and it will be no.”

With her out of the yuppie froyo shop, I’m a little more in my element. I flash her a smug grin. “Will you marry me?”

Her green eyes widen with surprise, and she giggles. “Oooh, you’re a sly one, Madden Finn. Here I thought you were shy but no, you knew exactly what you were doing!”

I can’t help but laugh with her—it’s infectious and I want to be tainted by her. “We’ll deal with that answer later. Can I take you to dinner one night?”

“I suppose so,” she says, “a girl has to eat.” She hands me a green napkin with her phone number written in a pretty flourish across the front. “Text me and let me know when.”

With a wave, she turns and starts away from me, but I’m quick and snatch her wrist. It’s tiny in my massive hand and I easily bring her toward me. I don’t say anything but press a soft kiss to her palm that smells like dessert toppings.

“I’ve been waiting twelve Sundays to do that.”

I release her and keep my eyes on her as she hurries back into the building, her round ass jiggling as she bounces away.

One day soon, I’ll make this girl mine.

Once the engine roars to life and I’m back on the road, the warm wind whipping around me, I contemplate how any sort of relationship with a girl like Hali would work. In all actuality, it can’t. I’m hardened and rough. She’s all sweetness and smooth perfection. And one step inside the clubhouse, those motherfuckers would devour my sweet treat. Fuck that. I’ll figure out a way to have both. I’m a master at compartmentalizing my life. My adopted mother and her cats, who I still visit frequently at her beach house, are in a safe, secret compartment that only Jagger knows about. My Sunday visits with Hali are another part of me no one knows a thing about. And the biggest piece of me, stays in its own undisclosed part of my mind.

I pull into the carport of my condo on the beach. The clubhouse may be the place I run, but I don’t live there. Instead, I stay at the worn two bedroom condo that’s fairly private, with no beachgoers out my way. Turning off the motorcycle, I climb off and head straight toward the water, shedding leather and denim along the way. Boots are kicked off and my weapons are discarded into the sand without a care in the world.

As soon as I’m completely naked and standing before my true home, I smile and inhale the salty breeze.

Could I ever share this part of me with anyone?

Maybe someone like Hali?

What would she think of me?

A growl rumbles in my throat just thinking of her rejection—the horror on her face from knowing exactly who, or more like
what
I am. She can’t ever know. It’ll remain in its compartment where it belongs.

I charge toward the raging waves and once I’m waist deep, I dive in. The water sluices down my bare skin, sending a calm like no other washing over me. Closing my eyes, I will the change to happen. Over the years, I’ve learned to control when I convert into my true form.

My legs begin binding together, almost painfully, but I don’t feel trapped. I know it’s the step before I become truly free. The tightening becomes more and more intense with each passing second, as if some heavenly god is sewing my powerful legs together against my will. I fight the urge to gasp for air and claw to the surface, but instead suck the saltwater deep into my lungs. The water is murky, but I know soon I’ll be able to see, with crystal clarity, everything in the sea.

Everything goes black for one quiet moment.

Then, underwater, brilliant colors nearly blind me. Colorful fish dart around me and the peaceful sounds of the ocean soothe my soul.

I’m free.

With a powerful whap of my tail, I surge deeper into the ocean. Being in my true form, I’m strong and untouchable. I’m free to search every salty square inch of the sea for others like me. Every evening, I do just that. I spend hours swimming and hunting for a family I never knew.

But as exhilarating as this is, it’s also lonely.

It’s like I’m the last one of an extinct race.

Alone.

After hours of getting my fill, I come across a shimmering, red tinted shell with green speckles in it. It instantly reminds me of Hali.

Maybe one day I can share who I am with someone. If anything, a sweet girl like Hali would be the one to accept such an unusual notion about someone. Gritting my teeth, I start making my swim back toward shore. Of course I can’t tell her. If I like her, which I really fucking do, I can’t tell her that…ever.

How fucking ridiculous would that be?

“Hi, my name is Madden Finn, president of the South Beach Sinners and Pink Pelican frozen yogurt eating yuppie. Oh…” I groan as I clutch the shell in my fist, drawing blood. “And I’m a fucking merman.”

“D
oes the new boyfriend know you’re a hooker?” Steffan questions from the couch, a puff of smoke clouding the air around him.

I bristle at his comment and halt in my tracks. When I moved to Miami, I didn’t have a nickel to my name. I’d been lost and on the run from crap I’d rather not think about. While searching for not only a job but a place to put down some roots, I’d come across Steffan. He’d been at the bus station just standing there, waiting, when our eyes locked. His blue eyes, the color of the sky on the clearest of days, had found mine and he claimed me. Simple as that. I’d found my feet walking his way as he lit up a cigarette. He’d asked me questions about my intentions in this town, told me his, and soon, I found myself following him to his apartment.

We didn’t have sex.

Not that he hasn’t tried on the occasional drunk night.

But we became bonded in an unexplainable way. He became my only friend. My caretaker. The one who gave me a roof over my head and a pillow to lie my head upon. To me, he’s like an annoying, nosy older brother. Stalker should be a more appropriate word, but I give him the benefit of the doubt. Always. Because even when he’s regarding me with his cold gaze, I always see a flicker of warmth beyond his frigid façade. He may hate the world and everyone in it, but with me, he shows a flicker of love. Be it that it’s small, it’s still there. And I’m grateful for his flicker. I protect it from the harsh gusts of the world around us and it keeps me warm.

“Screw you,” I huff and storm over to him. “You seriously don’t understand the meaning of privacy.”

He shrugs his shoulders as if it’s not a big deal. But looking at my phone while I’m asleep, or in the shower, is such an invasion of privacy. If I didn’t love him like a brother, I’d have left him long ago.

“You’re pissed about me reading your texts, but you have no argument for the fact that I just called you a fucking prostitute. I guess my suspicions were correct,” he says with a disgusted snarl and stands. He runs his fingers through his overgrown, dark blond hair and pins me with an angry scowl.

I hate when he’s like this. When his mind comes up with impossible scenarios—all fucked up and twisted. All scenarios that involve me being pulled into the dark underworld.

“I know you don’t mean it,” I tell him in a calm voice and try to meet his angry gaze with my own. “Madden’s just a guy I met at Franny’s. He asked me to dinner. Seemed like a nice guy and you know I’m always hungry,” I tease.

He frowns, and sadness flickers across his features before he hardens his look. “I feed you. I’m the one who takes care of you.”

“You’ve always looked after me, ever since we met two years ago. I can’t thank you enough for that, Steff.” I approach him like one would an injured animal. Once I’m close enough, I fold myself into his arms. He grips me in a tight embrace. “You’re my best friend. But you have to let me spread my wings a bit.”

A growl rumbles in his chest, and he stiffens. “The world is a terrible place. They’ll hurt you. The whole lot of them.”

I smile against his chest. “I’ll be fine. It’s one date.”

“If he hurts you, I’ll put a bullet in him.”

“And I’ll put a bullet in you if you don’t let me get ready for said date. It’s just dinner, and I’ll be home before you know it. If he’s an ass, I give you permission to kick his ass. Deal?”

He grunts. I’m thinking no deal.

“Oh, and if you keep snooping on my phone, I’m going to kick your ass into tomorrow. Got it, bud?” I threaten with a laugh.

I pull away and make my way into my bedroom. I’ll need a quick shower before my date. I’m just peeling off my tank top and tossing it onto the floor when I feel his presence behind me.

“What’s your deal today?” I hiss and grab a towel to cover my bare chest.

He’s leaned against the doorframe, his bright blue eyes devouring my half naked appearance. “Where have you been?”

Always the same song and dance with us. He wants answers. Answers I don’t want to give. Sometimes a girl needs her privacy. And Steffan makes it really freaking hard to be private.

“I went shopping out by the piers. Looking for something to wear tonight.”

His eyes narrow and his jaw clenches. Just when I think he’ll interrogate me some more, he storms off.

Once I save some money up, I really need to consider getting my own place. Steffan is bordering on creepy these days. It’ll save our friendship if I leave him before I kill him.

I flip through my phone while I wait for Madden to show up. He’d offered to pick me up, but I didn’t think it was a good idea for Steffan to see him. Instead, I told him I’d meet him at the Seaside Steakhouse. Men and women keep entering the busy place, donning expensive dresses and suits. I frown, wondering if I’ve underdressed for the evening.

For my date, I’d chosen a white halter top dress that hits me at my knees. White sandals were my shoes of choice, and I spent entirely too long attempting to put curls in my hair. In the end, my strawberry-blonde ringlets fell into beachy waves. Damn humidity.

I’m about to check the time on my phone when I sense his presence. Just like every Sunday at work, I know it’s him when he walks in without even having to look up. Madden has a powerful aura about him. His smell is an intoxicating manly scent—a delicious mixture of ocean water and leather. I can always feel his eyes on me, like a tongue lazily dragging its way along my flesh. A shiver courses through me and my skin is sprinkled with goosebumps.

“Did I keep you waiting long?” his deep voice rumbles from behind me.

I stand from the bench and turn to see him leaning against one of the pillars in front of the building. Tonight he’s dressed differently than usual. Gone are the leather and denim. Now, he’s dressed in a pair of grey slacks that fit his muscular frame nicely and a black button-up dress shirt with the top few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows, showcasing his firm forearms. His black hair is a styled mess on top of his head. The man is sex personified.

“No, not at all,” I say, grinning at the handsome man.

Our texts had been simple, the two of us deciding on a time and place. My fingers itched to probe him. To ask him a million questions about himself, but I decided to save it for our date.