In Too Deep

Chapter Three (Scene 1)

“You’re off your game, boy.” Bill leaned in the doorway.

West looked up from behind his office desk, straightened, and slid the desk drawer shut. “All locked up?”

“Tighter than the Virgin Mary.”

For the first time that evening, he really looked at his dad. Purple shadows bruised the crinkled skin under his eyes, and everything about him sagged, including the two woolen jerseys he wore, even though the temperature inside the pub was warm enough to be comfortable in only a shirt. “You look like hell. Did you stop to eat tonight?”

“That girl of yours bullied me into a sandwich. Didn’t want anything else.”

West sat forward with a frown. “I’ve told Shaye before you’re meant to—”

“—not Shaye. Piper.”

“Oh.” He aligned a pen next to the desk pad and straightened his stack of invoices. “I forgot to tell Piper to make sure you take a break. And she’s not my girl.”

Bill cocked a finger at him. “Waiting for that. As I said, since she waltzed back in the door, you’ve been off your game.” He rubbed a hand through his white hair and yawned. “I am beat. Bloody old age.”

“Go to bed. I’ll look after the rest.”

“Thought Glenna told you to drop the girl home?” Bill chuckled. “Though how the bleedin’ hell she ended up staying at your place—should’ve seen your face, boy!”

“Ms. I’m-so-independent Harland declined a lift with me, saying she was quite capable of walking. She left about ten minutes ago.”

Bill’s gaze slid to the rain zigzagging down the office windows. “In this?”

“Bit of rain never killed anyone.”

“True, true. She’ll miss the turn to your road in the dark.”

“More than likely.”

Bill scratched the back of his head. “Ah well. As you say, bit of rain never hurts. Might cool that temper of hers.”

West snorted and moved around the desk to collect his helmet. “Yeah. That’ll happen. I’d better go find her.”

West shooed Bill out the kitchen door in the direction of the tiny cottage he and his younger brother, Del, had grown up in on the corner of Due South’s property. He’d have fobbed Piper off at his father’s place if the cottage’s second bedroom hadn’t been stacked halfway to the ceiling with Bill’s junk.

He changed into jeans, tugged on an ancient leather jacket, and headed outside. Temperamental weather was a fact of island life, something he was sure Piper had forgotten while living in the capital city.

Rain like automatic gunfire plinked onto his helmet as he strode to his bike, tucked away under a covered car-port. His plans of a quiet beer alone were screwed. The last thing he wanted tonight was to deal with a Harland temper tantrum. Why had he caved to Glenna’s demands?

He straddled the bike and twisted the key. Revving the accelerator, West guided the bike onto the road and headed along the foreshore, tires hissing across the wet asphalt as he changed gears. He passed the wharf, where the streetlights abruptly ended. Surely a street savvy cop wouldn’t walk off into the night without a flashlight? Or maybe it was Boy Scouts that were prepared for any eventuality. He sure as hell wasn’t prepared for Piper. He swallowed thickly and concentrated on riding.

The bike’s headlight illuminated the narrow lane leading to his place, and he stopped parallel to the entrance. A gust of wind howled over the crest of the hill. Branches rattled and the rain hammered down so hard it bounced. West squinted through the trees to see whether his house lights were on. Nope. Which presumably meant she’d walked straight past. Piper was likely halfway to Horseshoe Bay, if she hadn’t fallen into a ditch.