Braden stood next to the Ducati, waiting for Cressida to come out. Washington wasn’t a “stop and ID” state, and he needed reasonable suspicion. Right now, her claims simply weren’t quite enough. He needed more. Only a little more, but more. The guy put his cell down and looked at Braden, giving Braden the opportunity to memorize his face, though he already had an image.
“Great day for a ride,” the guy said, all friendly like.
“It is. But this time of year, it’s hard to enjoy the roads. Too many tourists.”
The man shrugged. “I’m one of those tourists, I’m afraid.”
He turned and got in his vehicle.
Braden let him. He got zero weird vibes about the guy, and he usually trusted his instincts. He got the license plate, and he’d run it based on reasonable suspicion. He sent the image to the support staff at the office.
Cressida stepped outside, the expression on her face plain. She was furious. But she said nothing, walked up to his bike, and put on her helmet he’d released from the locking clip. He could have said something. Should have...
But then she sent him what he suspected was her best if-looks-could-kill stare. “You can tell me later. I got another text from Diggins. Says he can’t make it.”
“Then where are we going?”
“To the marina. You’re taking me to theSea Reaper. Nobody stands me up.”
17
The Ducati rumbled to life, and she wrapped her arms around Braden. Wind whipping around her as he accelerated out of the parking lot, she tightened her hold on him. This model didn’t allow a lot of room, and so she was pressed against him as close as humanly possible.
She could feel the muscles in his back and his core.
She tried to think about something else. Braden wouldn’t like what Diggins’s text said, so she’d paraphrased and then left off the last part...
“It’s too dangerous.”
Those words only fueled Cressida to want more information. And on the ride to get that information, she enjoyed the stunning display of God’s creation—sometimes speeding by in a blur, and other times, when Braden slowed, she enjoyed the view of the ocean through the trees.
With Braden to assist and protect and discover, she would finish Dad’s project. She’d prayed for God to help her when she’d been floating, pretending to be dead. He’d answered her prayer, and she had a feeling that maybe Detective Sanders was part of that help.
He steered through the marina parking lot that was being transformed into the Pirates’ Bash, opening Friday—tomorrow—and running through the weekend. The chandlery, the burned-out museum, and the collapsing dock on the far side and the rusty older boats docked at the newer part of the marina gave Hidden Bay an uncommon charm hinting at times gone by.
And actually, now that she thought about it, she felt more comfortable here than at the other modern marinas with fancy yachts only afforded by millionaires and billionaires who reminded her of the elites and the circles her mother often ran in. She wanted no part of that group.
As usual, thoughts of her mother sent pain stabbing through her. She hadn’t spoken to her in too long. Yes, she was still angry and hurt, but she missed her mother. She just didn’t know how to get over it. How to reconcile.
Lord, I’m sorry that Ifeel the way I do about my mother. Help me to work through it.
The motorcycle slid into a parking spot, and Braden shut off the engine. She hopped off first, then Braden followed. He secured their helmets like before, though if someone really wanted them, it wouldn’t take much to steal them.
He gestured toward the chandlery. “We’ll need to rent a skiff.”
“The county doesn’t have a dedicated boat?”
“We don’t have an official marine department. But even if we did, would you really want me to take you out there in the county sheriff’s official marine department boat? I thought you were afraid my presence would prevent you from learning more.” He didn’t wait for her answer and started toward the buildings.
“That was the initial plan.” She stared off at the cluster of boats as she kept pace with him. What was the best way to go about this?
At the door of the chandlery, he paused. “Before we head out, I’d like to know if there’s something you haven’t told me.”
Oh, he’d picked up on that, had he? He was good. In her experience, talking to people in a relaxed environment, getting them to open up without the threat of law enforcement or reprisal wasn’t easy to do, and she’d prefer if he didn’t have to be with her.
“It’s getting late. We need to make this happen.” Tonight. “We can hash through everything else later.”
He subtly shook his head, then opened the door, and she stepped inside first. Kit was on tonight, and she quickly rented Cressida the skiff. Braden handled the single-engine skiff like a pro as she watched the constellation of anchored boats out in the middle of the bay for movement. Would theSea Reaperpull anchor and head out to the ocean if Diggins spotted Cressida and Braden heading his way?
