The palm trees dotting the island rattled, their bushy heads waving to and fro. Soon they would be bent nearly sideways, straining desperately to keep hold of the ground. Already, torn palm fronds fluttered in the swirling air.
Cami pounded up the porch steps, grateful for the roof that provided an instant reprieve from the driving rain and slammed back the two dead-bolt locks on the front door. Throwing it open, she ran inside.
With the windows sealed tight by hurricane shutters, and the generator turned off in preparation for the storm—that’d been her last task before heading to the pier—there was no light in the house. No light and absolutelynoventilation. The air was already warm and moist and stagnant. Even soaked by the rain, she could feel sweat pop out on her skin.
“Whew!” Doc shook his head like a dog shaking off water. Droplets showered Cami’s face and she threw up her hands to ward them off.
“Hey!” she complained, and then wished she hadn’t when he stopped doing his best impression of a Labrador retriever and gifted her with an impish grin.
“Seriously?” The end of his toothpick angled down and seemed to mock her. “You look like a drowned rat and you’re whining about—”
“I realized it didn’t make any sense as soon as theheycame out of my mouth,” she interrupted. “I’m a little keyed up right now. So maybe go against every instinct you have and cut me some slack, okay?”
His lips—those lips she knew could be soft and firm in equal measure—twisted. “Now where’s the fun in that?”
It was his favorite retort.
Or maybe it was the Deep Six Salvage crew’s moto, because they all seemed to use it.
“Where do you want the treasure?” Dana Levine asked, which provided Cami a welcome distraction from Doc’s magnetic gaze.
“Upstairs,” LT answered as he ushered Olivia into the house ahead of him. “The storm surge might reach the bottom level.”
“Oh, god.” The hairs on Cami’s arms lifted at the thought of cowering upstairs while the downstairs flooded. Already the house creaked and groaned, seeming to catch its breath in an attempt to gird itself for what was to come.
“Olivia and I will secure the bags. The rest of y’all gather candles, canned goods, and dry food. We need to fill whatever we can find with fresh water to use for drinking and for flushing the toilet, because who knows if the water tank will survive the storm.”
Wayfarer Island’s fresh drinking water was housed in a tank on stilts. Which meant those who lived there didn’t need a pump. Gravity did the trick of delivering the H2O to the house. But that also meant the water tank was susceptible to high winds.
“We’ll hunker down on the second floor until Julia’s well on her way to the mainland.” LT finished, making a come-hither motion with his fingers toward the duffel Cami held.
She gratefully handed over the bag, wincing and hissing when whatever had been stabbing into her side sliced painfully across her rib cage.
“What the hell?” Doc absently thrust his duffel at LT while stomping in Cami’s direction. “What happened to you?” he demanded.
She shrugged off her overnight bag so she could look down at her side. Two things met her gaze. One, her casual cotton T-shirt was bloody. Two, it’d also gonecompletelysee-through, thanks to the rain.
Whyhad she chosen to wear her most functional and least appealing bra today? Oh, right. Because she hadn’t thought anyone wouldseeit.
Without so much as a by-your-leave, Doc grabbed the hem of her T-shirt and exposed her entire right side.
“Excuse me?” She slapped at his wide-palmed hand. “How many times do I have to remind you you’re notmydoctor? Unhand me, villain!”
“Hush, woman.” His gravelly voice was low and firm. “How’d you get this?” he demanded.
She ducked her chin to see a small puncture wound between her ribs. Beside it was a short, bloody scrape. “Well, which is it? Do you want me to hush or do you want me to tell you how I got this?”
The look he leveled on her could only be described as irritated.
“Something in the duffel stabbed me,” she relented, pointing to the offending blue bag.
LT had already shouldered the duffel, but he easily lifted it off his arm and held it by its strap. Down low on one side, a rusty-looking triangle protruded from the blue nylon.
“It’s that ruby-handled dagger we found,” LT said.
Doc grimaced. “And its blade is all kinds of nasty. Come on.” He grabbed Cami’s hand. “We need to get you cleaned up so you don’t get infected.”
“Wait,” she protested, tugging against his grip. It quickly became clear he had no intention of letting her go. And why that should simultaneously give her a thrill and make her mad enough to spit nails was anyone’s guess. “We need to help Dana with the supplies and—”
