I must have looked pretty stricken at the prospect of cleaning up after my mistake because she shook her head with a note of amusement. “It’s okay. Go swimming. It’ll follow you back.” I tried to protest, but she was firm. They would change the water, and I should go swim. “Really. David’s been meaning to scrub down the bottom. We’ll open the drains and let the water go back out to sea.”
One of the things I like about David is that he never uses chemicals in the water, so he
could
let it drain back to the ocean with the blessing of the State of California’s environmental offices. Vicki had installed a very expensive reverse osmosis filter for the pool, so the water going out would be perfectly safe for whatever creatures it encountered.
I vowed to add a thousand to the amount I’d offered them to watch the house. Refilling the pool isn’t cheap and despite her protests, I knew David had changed the water right before I’d left.
After writing myself a reminder, I changed into my suit and went for a swim. The tide rolled out with me, following me into the water.
There really isn’t any way to explain what it feels like to swim in the ocean. Once my body cooled to the temperature of the water, it was as if every wave was an extension of me. I dove through the breakers and swells until the surface was nearly flat. There wasn’t much of a breeze and the sun warmed my hair. A porpoise appeared and chuckled at me—probably commenting on the waste of using my arms. Feeling playful and relaxed at last, I played with the porpoise, diving right alongside his sleek gray form. We came out of the water nearly simultaneously, then dropped back in again. We must have done this about ten times before he bobbed his head in approval, tittered, and swam away to join a group that was tail-walking in the distance.
I floated on my back for a time while the seagulls overhead swooped and dipped in approval. I’d been away from the ocean long enough to pine for the sea, and yes, to miss my noisy feathered friends. One of them flew down fast, as though dive bombing a ship, and I nearly dropped under the water to avoid being hit. But it slowed at the last second in a fluttering of snowy wings and delicately dropped a tiny pink conch shell onto my bare stomach. Then it flew back up to join its fellows overhead. How sweet. A gift from my admirers.
I have weird admirers.
I suppose I should have called some people to let them know I was back. But I really wanted peace and quiet for at least a day or two. So I put my new conch shell on the mantel with the others I’d collected over the years, called out for pizza since my fridge was bare, and opened a bottle of wine.
I thought a lot about the wine before selecting a simple California white, ignoring the magically enhanced red I’d come to relish. I couldn’t drink that wine right now, not without conjuring up a whole lot of bad memories. I didn’t want to think about the man who’d created that wine. Not today. Maybe not tomorrow, either.
It took two more days of swimming, sitting on my favorite rock overlooking the water, and just padding around the house before I felt ready to be part of the real world again. Finally I dressed and headed for the office one morning instead of the beach. I was looking forward to a nice, normal day dealing with a backlog of telephone calls and paperwork—and chatting with Dawna, my smart, savvy receptionist, who is also one of my best friends in the world.
I run a private security business out of an office on the third floor of one of the last historic buildings in downtown Santa Maria de Luna. It’s an old, red-brick Victorian with gingerbread trim, a wide front porch, and a balcony on my floor that lets me get fresh air while offering partial protection from the California sunshine. Once upon a time it had been a stretch to afford the rent. Prices in Santa Maria aren’t as bad as in Hollywood or L.A., but they’re not cheap, either. After I inherited the building (and the headaches that go along with owning commercial property) that wasn’t an issue. I hadn’t even known Vicki had owned my office building until after her death.
Pulling into my reserved spot in the parking lot, I found myself smiling. God, it was good to be back. I couldn’t wait to get back to normal, or as close to it as I could manage. Dawna’s car was in its usual spot. I wasn’t surprised. As receptionist, Dawna wasn’t scheduled to start for another hour, but she gets into work early more often than not. Maybe we’d get a chance to talk before the day’s craziness started.
Ron’s car was not in his spot, for which I was grateful. One of my tenants, Ron is an attorney and an ass, but not in that order. I really wasn’t in the mood to deal with the level of bullshit his attitude creates.
Gulls swooped and dived overhead as I climbed out of the car. They cawed and performed aerial acrobatics, trying to get my attention. I smiled and made a shooing gesture. “Go play. I’m going to be inside all day.”
Anyone watching would be amused to hear me talking to them. They would be shocked to see the gulls obey, swooping one more time before flying off toward the shore.
Dawna must have heard them, or me, because the minute I opened the door, she raced toward me and pulled me into a hug.
“Thank God, you’re
back
!” I grunted a little as she squeezed me tighter. Dawna is petite, but apparently she’d continued the workout schedule she’d started before I left because she was much stronger than she had been.
She held me at arm’s length, long enough for her dark eyes to take in every inch of me from head to toe. “You look like hell, girlfriend. What
happened
?”
I tried for humor. “I look a lot better than I did two days ago. I even trimmed the singe off my hair and scrubbed off the blood.” Her eyes widened but I didn’t elaborate. I wasn’t ready to talk about it, so I made a show of looking her over in turn. I might look like hell, but she looked great. Part of it was just good looks. She’s part Vietnamese and has the kind of exotic features that attract a lot of attention. She also knows exactly how to make the most of her assets. Today she wore a black pinstripe skirt suit with a snow white blouse, accessorized with a delicate diamond necklace and matching earrings. And of course there was that big honking rock on her finger.
After a whirlwind romance I sort of instigated by realizing, while on a date with a certain guy, that Dawna would make a much better girlfriend for him, she was going to become Mrs. Christopher Gaetano. Being engaged definitely agreed with her. She was practically glowing with joy.
I was happy for her, but thinking about it made me all too aware of the absence of John Creede from my life. “There’s too much to talk about without coffee. Besides, if you have a minute, there are a couple of things I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Uh-oh. That sounds ominous.” Releasing me, she gave me a wary look and turned away to shut the door.
“It’s not bad.” I gave her a smile. “I promise.”
“Good. You head on upstairs. I’ll forward the phones to the service and pour coffee.” She gave me a gentle push toward the stairs, followed by a shooing motion that was almost identical to the one I’d given the gulls.
“Thanks, Dawna.”
“No problema.”
The familiar words brought back my smile—a smile I held on to clear up until the moment I was standing outside the open door of the empty office on the third floor where John Creede had created the magical wine currently sitting undrunk in my beach house. Though he’d had other offices, he’d rented this one to be close to me while we were dating. The room was empty now; the floor was damaged where someone had pulled up the temporary flooring that had been where he’d performed his magic.
He was really gone.
Shit
.
I blinked back tears. I was
not
going to cry, damn it. Absolutely not. I’d done what I had to do. I really did believe that. I’d do it again. But it didn’t make it hurt any less seeing that empty office, remembering when Mexico had started to really go wrong.
“What do you mean you reassigned him?” I kept my voice down. The office door was closed, but the walls of the building were none too thick and I didn’t want anyone overhearing this argument.
“I decided I needed to have Jorge help with the spell work on the vans.”
“
You
decided you needed? And you didn’t see any reason to check with me first, even though I’m the one in charge? Humberto was depending on Jorge to watch his back, and I assigned Jorge to him precisely because he could cast a protection spell in case there were booby traps. Which there were, so now I’ve got an injured man. What the hell, John!”
John gave me “the look.” It was an expression I’d seen far too much of over the past couple of weeks: superior to the point of condescending. The men had seen it, too. It was undermining my authority with them and with the clients. People had begun to run my orders past John before actually following them, and to obey his orders before mine. That was unacceptable.
He spoke carefully, as though addressing a child … or at least that was how it felt. “You hired me for my expertise.”
Really? When did I say that? “No, Creede, I hired you because you have good men and good equipment, and I thought you were capable of following orders. Apparently I was wrong about the last part.” I spoke softly, but my voice was cold enough to frost the windows, despite the Mexican midday heat.
His face darkened, anger making his golden eyes, filled with magical flame, flash menacingly. “We both know you
needed
to hire me, Celia. You’re not qualified to handle this kind of project. Bodyguard, sure. But a full-fledged evacuation with a multiperson crew? I can’t believe you agreed to handle the evacuation without a soul to back you up. Remember,
you
called
me
. Hired me to cover your ass so you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the clients.”
Embarrass myself?
Embarrass
myself? Oh, no. Oh, so fucking no. “I called you because you had people available. Maybe I didn’t mention you weren’t my first choice. I called because your business has sucked lately. Remember that part? That I said on the phone I wanted to do
you
the favor of a quick paycheck? But screw it. You’re fired. Get your Miller & Creede people together and get your butts back to L.A.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he said in a dangerous, venomous whisper. I could actually feel the power of his magic building in the room, rising like scalding water.
I met his eyes without flinching, without backing down. “I’ll have Dawna cut you a check for the days you’ve actually been on the assignment.”
In a fit of pique, he’d taken both vans and all the contractors except Maria, Luis, and Lorenzo. It had floored me that he would risk people’s lives that way. Totally unprofessional.
And very likely unforgivable.
But I’d gotten them all out. By myself. The only person who would be embarrassed by that was John Creede. The tricky part was going to be figuring out how to get the word out that I’d succeeded without “taking the credit.” That little bomb hit me as I stared at the empty room.
“Celia.” Dawna’s voice brought me back to the present. “Are you okay? You look … odd.”
I didn’t feel odd. I felt hurt, sad, humiliated, and
pissed
. John and I had been fairly serious. I’d really thought he respected me as a person and as a professional, and that we’d be able to work well together. Apparently I’d been wrong. It hurt. A lot.
She passed me over a cup of steaming coffee. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not yet.” Again, maybe never.
The eyes that met mine were worried. “Okay.” She sounded doubtful. “If you say so.”
“I do.”
I was spared further discussion by Ron’s baritone bellow from downstairs.
“Dawna!”
“Oh
hell,
” she muttered. Ron may not be my favorite tenant, but Dawna loathes him. Of course, since she’s the receptionist, she bears the brunt of most of his bad behavior. More than once he’s driven her close to quitting or to violence. He thinks his law degree makes him superior to the rest of us mere mortals. He’s an autocratic, demanding bully, but he pays his rent on time and ponies up for building maintenance without too much complaint, so I’ve put up with him.
I laughed. “Good to see some things haven’t changed. Go. I’m all right.”
“But we were going to talk.” She cast a filthy look at the staircase.
I knew she didn’t want to go down there. I couldn’t even blame her. But it was her job. Like it or (obviously) not. “We will. Later. Go.”
With a huge sigh, she flounced down the stairs and back to work.
Later was a lot later. Ron kept Dawna hopping all morning and I wound up having an unexpected visitor.
* * *
“I need you to find my daughter.”
The sunlight streaming into my office through the balcony windows wasn’t being kind to the woman seated across the desk from me. Laka is from the Isle of Serenity, home of the Pacific sirens, and usually she looks lovely, thanks to her Polynesian coloring and features and a wide, easy smile that can light up a room. But she wasn’t smiling today and there were lines of worry on her face, which I’d never seen before. She was dressed simply and wore no makeup, her hair pulled back in a thick braid that hung down her back. She looked old and tired. Then again, she probably was. Sirens can live a long time, and if her teenage daughter, Okalani, was missing, Laka probably wasn’t getting much sleep.
I weighed how to respond. I’d met Laka’s daughter a couple of years earlier when I’d been on Serenity on business. Okalani had a remarkable talent—she was a strong enough teleporter to be able to transport groups of people. She’d saved my life, and the lives of a lot of other people, using that gift. And while she had an attitude problem—what teenager doesn’t?—I’d kind of liked the kid.
I wasn’t surprised she’d gone missing. From the first moment I’d met her, she’d made it very clear that she wanted to get off Serenity and find her long-lost father and brother.
“Have you talked to her father?”
Laka gave a frustrated snort. Granted, contacting Okalani’s dad was an obvious thing to do. But you’d be surprised how often people don’t actually
do
the obvious.