"I'm fine."
Mimi puckered her lips, squinted her hazel eyes and shook her head. "No, you're not."
"I haven't been sleeping much."
"If you've been worrying about Bobby, then I can set your mind to rest. He came back last night."
"Thank goodness."
"He told me about what happened at the Brazen Hussy. He was worried about you." Mimi crossed her arms over her ample bosom. "I assured him that you were fine."
Cyn felt her cheeks sting with the beginnings of a blush. No doubt Bobby had told Mimi about Nate Hodges. "I never should have gone to the Brazen Hussy."
"Who was he, this one-man army that rescued you?"
"Nathan Hodges, a former navy SEAL, and... and my new neighbor." Cyn knew she might as well be honest with Mimi, because sooner or later the woman would worm every detail out of her.
"New neighbor?"
"He bought Miss Carstairs's old house."
"Well, well." Mimi got up, rubbed her chin and walked to the door. "So a warrior has finally come to the old mission, to the haunted beach."
Cyn snapped her head around, her brown eyes focusing directly on Mimi's Cheshire cat grin. "I should never have told you about that legend."
"What's the matter? Something change your mind about how romantic that old legend is?"
"It was a beautiful story, tragically romantic... as long as it remained just an ancient legend. But now..."
"Now what?" Mimi asked, laughing. "Are you afraid you and your warrior are destined to fulfill the prophecy?"
"Sounds crazy, doesn't it?" Cyn had tried not to think about the parallel between the ancient lovers and Nate and herself. "Who's to say that Nate's the first warrior to come to the Sweet Haven beach? And I'm certainly no maiden."
"Nate, huh? Already on a first-name basis?" Mimi opened the door, hesitated momentarily, then turned around.
"We're so completely wrong for each other. His whole life is the total opposite of mine. For heaven's sake, Mimi, the man collects knives."
"If it's meant to be, there's nothing you or this Nate can do to stop it."
"We're never going to see each other again." Cyn raised her voice, wanting to make sure Mimi heard her, hoping her adamant tone would convince the other woman of her sincerity.
Mimi didn't turn around or acknowledge Cyn's remark in any way. Dammit, Cyn thought. That's all I need, Mimi Burnside trying to pair me off with a man determined to keep me out of his life, a man who, by his own admission, isn't even interested in a brief affair. * * *
Nate heard the noise again. There was something in the storeroom, something making a whimpering sound. Could it be an injured animal that had taken shelter? Even though the door was closed, it was possible that a stray cat or dog could have crawled in through one of the partially boarded windows.
Nate opened the door and stepped inside, moving cautiously, just in case the animal might attack. It took a few minutes for his eyes to focus in the semidarkness. Glancing around, he noticed nothing changed from the day before, but then he heard the sound again. God, whatever it was, it sounded almost human.
Suddenly, a small dark shadow in the far corner moved. Nate took several tentative steps toward the movement. Without warning, a skinny kid hurled herself from behind a tall chest and, running past Nate, made a mad dash for the door.
"What the—" Turning quickly, Nate reached out, grabbing the little hooligan by the neck.
The child let out a frightened scream and began struggling. Thrashing arms and legs pelted Nate as he dragged the scrappy kid outside.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said. "Stop your squirming!"
"Please..." Gradually, the child ceased struggling.
Nate took a good look at the intruder. Damn, it was a brown-eyed little girl with dirty, stringy black hair. Had this child been hiding in his storage rooms, eating candy and drinking cola? Probably. But that would hardly explain the cigarette butt.
"Hey, honey, it's all right." The child broke into tears. Nate released her, but kept a restraining hand on her back.
"I...I didn't do nothing wrong." She gulped and looked up at him, fear in her eyes.
That's when Nate noticed the fresh purple bruises on the side of her pretty face. His gaze traveled the length of the child's scrawny body, noting that her shorts and blouse were faded and dirty and that a line of fading bruises covered her left arm and the backs of both legs. Nausea rose in Nate's throat. If he could get his hands on the person who'd beaten this child, he would make sure that animal never touched her again.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She looked at him, her eyes wide and wild with fright. "Just let me go, okay? I didn't know somebody lived here."
"Did your mother or father do this to you?" Nate asked, pointing to her battered face.
"I won't go back. You can't make me," she screamed and started to balk.
Nate placed a restraining hand at her waist, then cursed himself when she cried out in pain. Dear God, he needed to get this child to the hospital. "Look, honey, I think we need to get you to a doctor."
"No!"
"You're hurt."
"It ain't so bad. I don't want no doctor, no police. They'll make me go back, and I'd rather die than go back." She curled up, dropping to her knees, her whole body trembling.
"No doctor. No police," Nate assured her. "I know a lady who helps kids like you. She works at a place called Tomorrow House in Jacksonville."
"She'll call the police."
"No. She'll help you. Give you a place to stay, some food and a doctor who won't report you to the police." Nate picked the child up in his arms. She trembled as if she were in the throes of a seizure.
This abused little girl needed help, and he intended to see that she got it. He also intended to make sure he got her away from Sweet Haven, away from him, as quickly as possible. She couldn't come back. If she did, she, too, would be in danger from Ryker. If the cigarette butt had been left by one of Ryker's cronies, then it was a miracle the child hadn't already been faced with the unspeakable. Dear God, what if she had? What if the bruises... ? No, Ryker's type didn't just abuse, they killed. The Marquez family and Ramon Carranza were people who left behind no witnesses.
Nate headed toward Cyn's cottage, got halfway across the road, then remembered that she'd told him she was returning to work today. Making a hasty turn, he carried the little girl into his house. He eased her fragile body down on the sofa in his den.
"I promise that no one will hurt you. My friend is a nice lady. She'll take care of you."
Damn, this was one more complication he didn't need in his life. He was fast reaching the breaking point. And that's exactly what Ryker wanted. No doubt his old enemy was delaying the inevitable because he was enjoying the game, savoring each new torment, loving the idea of making Nate wait and watch and agonize.
Nate dug a ragged phone book from the desk drawer and searched through the tattered pages until he found the listing for Tomorrow House. Dialing the number, he watched the child, who had curled into a fetal position, her arms crossed over her chest.
"I need to speak to Cynthia Porter," he said. "And hurry, it's an emergency." * * *
Nate had tried talking to the child on the drive from Sweet Haven to Jacksonville, but he'd finally given up when he realized she wasn't going to reply. She sat, huddled on the front seat of his Jeep, her eyes red and puffy, the bruises on her face vividly apparent in the bright Florida sun.
She couldn't possibly know how well he related to her, how completely he understood her withdrawal. How many times had he run from his abusive Uncle Collum? How many times had the police returned him to that vicious man's clutches?
God, how he wished there had been a Tomorrow House in his past, and a caring, giving woman like Cyn Porter. But there had been neither. No one had given a damn about a wild and rebellious boy. No one had wanted him, least of all his mother's older half brother. No one, except Uncle Sam. The U.S. Navy had wanted him, and they'd had him, body and soul, for twenty years. He'd given the SEALs the dedication and loyalty many men gave their families. The navy had been his salvation as surely as it had been his damnation.