Deadly Isle (The Cost of Betrayal Collection)

Dani Pettrey

Description

Tennyson Kent is trapped on the isolated island of her childhood by a storm surge, and she is shocked when the typically idyllic community turns into the hunting grounds of a murderer. Cut off from any help from the mainland, will she and first love Callen Frost be able to identify and stop a killer bent on revenge before they become the next victims?

Informations

• Publié par: Baker Publishing Group
• Date de parution: 05 février 2019
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781493414864
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
© 2018 by Gracie & Johnny, Inc.
Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438
www.bethanyhouse.com
Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan
www.bakerpublishinggroup.com
Ebook edition created 2019
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—for example, electronic, photocopy, recording—without the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file at the Library of Congress, Washington, DC.
ISBN 978-1-4934-1486-4
This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Dan Pitts
Dani Pettrey is represented by Books & Such Literary Agency
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright Page
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
Epilogue
About the Author
Back Ads
one
HE WAITED, lurking against the buoy’s cold, rusty body, awaiting her .
He glanced at his watch.
Any moment now .
His breathing shallowed as he focused. He’d only have a few seconds, a blink of an eye to act, and then he’d disappear beneath the murky surface.
Sand and silt tossed up from the storm worked even better with his plan than he could have imagined. Finally, things were turning his way.
Taking another shallow breath, he tried to force his heart to pump harder, his adrenaline to burn. He’d enacted this moment repeatedly in his mind, had swum his escape route more times than his gloved fingers could count. He had this—had her .
He spotted movement, her head rolling sideways, barely breaching the waterline for a brief, controlled gasp of air—one of her last. She swam with the current, which would carry her dead body down along the shoals of Henry’s Point, where his crime would look like the perfectly painful accident he’d envisioned. But the other one would follow shortly, always a few minutes behind the bend. That was his window to act. His perfect window.
Her arms smoothly stroked in a straight line toward the buoy, her right hand finally reaching out and grasping ahold of what she expected would be a safe resting place. How wrong she was. Her head rose above the surface, and without hesitation, he swung.

Teni was off her game today. How could she not be after what had just happened between her and Alex? She fought against the storm-driven waves to increase the pace of her stroke, knowing Julia was outracing her, but at this point she didn’t care. Sobs threatened to wrack her body, but she fought them off, focusing on her breathing as the painful breakup flashed through her mind. Why on earth had he waited until they’d arrived at their wedding venue, her home island, before breaking the news?
Alex looked down at his feet, then back at her. “I think we’ve both known something’s been wrong ever since the engagement.”
“Alex?” He was right. She had felt something was wrong but could never pinpoint what.
He held up his hand. “Let me get this out. You know I think the world of you . . . but that’s not enough for a marriage, Ten.”
“But . . .” she sputtered. Why had he waited so long? They were only hours from meeting with her pastor about wedding details.
“Give me a hug,” Alex said. “I’m going to have Lenny run me back to Annapolis before this storm hits.” He glanced at the darkening sky. “Looks like it’s going to slam Talbot.”
Much as her heart had just been slammed. If she was honest with herself, she felt the same concern as Alex—knowing they weren’t right for each other, but she hadn’t understood why. She supposed that didn’t matter. Regardless of the reason it wasn’t working, it was over now. And it still hurt.
She propelled forward in the water, swimming with the current as her mind raced back to the vision of Alex sailing off beneath the darkening sky, taking her dreams of marriage with him. To take Teni’s mind off the pain, her cousin Julia had insisted they still make their traditional end-of-season race out to Barner’s Buoy, but she was clearly in no state of mind to truly compete. She was barely resisting the urge to ball up and cry.
As she swam she realized she was losing a friend—just a friend. Losing her fiancé should have felt like losing so much more.
What was wrong with her?
Why couldn’t she find a love like she’d experienced with Callen Frost all those years ago? But did she really want that? That love had ended in horrible, soul-crushing heartache.
As she reached the buoy, she lifted her head, fully anticipating finding a gloating Julia waiting there. She’d finally beat Teni to the buoy after all these years of racing, but Julia was nowhere to be seen.
That’s odd.
Teni checked her time. Twenty-two minutes . Pitiful .
Typically, she nailed the thousand-yard swim out to the buoy in around eighteen. Julia was usually around twenty. Teni should have been a minute or two behind her. Julia had streamed past her in the inlet. Surely she would have noticed if she’d passed her cousin during the swim.
She grabbed the buoy and sidled around it. “Jules?” she called over the burgeoning waves. “Jules? Where are you?” No way Julia would turn around and make the swim back without waiting for her to arrive and taking a hefty rest as they always had.
Teni’s gaze flashed to the once-white buoy, now a mottled gray, but it wasn’t the buoy that garnered her attention, but rather the bright red substance on and surrounding the rusty handhold they always used to grab onto as they rested.
She swallowed, panic slithering through her veins.
A boat approached from the distance, but her focus remained on her cousin.
“Julia!” She ducked under the water but saw nothing—only the white caps sloshing above the surface, muddying the waters several feet below.
Breaching the surface, she took a deep breath, trying not to give in to the panic suddenly flooding her system. Everything was fine. Julia probably just decided to skip the rest and head back to shore because the storm was coming in. And what appeared to be blood . . . She looked back at the red now being washed away by the waves.
Had Julia gotten hurt?
“Julia?” she hollered again, something urging her to stay—to keep looking.
“Ten?”
She stilled at the sound of his voice—the first time she’d heard it in over a year.
Callen Frost. Not now.
Swallowing, she turned to find his boat idling ten feet to her six.
“What are you doing out here?” he called out as rain began falling, wind lashing white caps up and over her chin as she worked to stay buoyant.
“Jules and I . . .”
“Your race?”
She nodded. “What are you doing out here?”
“Collecting my crab pots before the storm rolls in.” He gestured to the loosely woven silver-wire pots that suckered the crabs in and prevented passage out.
His dark brows furrowed. Dark brows, dark eyes, the color of the sky at night over Talbot. “Something wrong?” he asked.
“I can’t find Julia, and there was something that looked very much like blood on the buoy.” She could say that with a good deal of certainty, given her job with the National Resources Police, along with her specialization in underwater investigations.
“You think she cut her hand? I’ve always told you that buoy is a rust bucket.”
Teni shook her head. “That was my first thought, but it was too much blood and not shaped like a handprint.”
His eyes narrowed—eyes that used to captivate her. “What are you thinking?”
She swallowed. What was she thinking? She was thinking like an investigator mixed with the fact that Julia was a missing family member. Training plus emotion equaled overreaction at times. “Maybe I’m overreacting, but I’ve got a sick feeling in my stomach. I don’t think Jules would have turned back without waiting the extra minute or two for me, especially not if she was hurt.”
Callen reached out and looped his hands under her arms, hefting her up to his boat. The first time she’d been in his arms since that fateful day on the beach nearly a decade ago.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Helping you find Julia.”
“I can find her better in the water.” It was where she excelled, and he was the last person she wanted help from.
“In this approaching storm, you really think that’s the best way to proceed?”
No . She was reacting emotionally. She needed to calm down, focus. Why did it have to be Callen who came to her aid?
two
THE FARTHER SHE AND CALLEN TRACKED BACK, the faster Teni’s heart raced—until they were at the boathouse and there was still no sign of Julia. No goggles. No wet footprints. Her cousin’s towel still hanging on the hook. No sign of dripped blood.
A lump weighted at the bottom of Teni’s stomach. “It doesn’t look like she’s been back.”
Concern deepened across Callen’s face. “What are you thinking?”
Why did he always ask her that? And she never got to reciprocate, or at least never got an answer beyond, About you . At least until that day . . .
“If Julia got hurt, if she was struggling in any way and she didn’t stay at the buoy . . .” Teni thought aloud, pacing, trying to make her mind approach the situation as if she’d been called on the scene. And that was the scariest aspect. So many scenes she’d been called to started out just like this—a missing loved one, only a small clue, a direction, a spot of blood. She swallowed the bile rising in her throat at the thought of how most of those cases ended with her retrieving the loved one’s body from the seabed or the bottom of the bay.
“If she were struggling in any way, she is a good enough swimmer to know to let the current carry her . . . and it is pulling toward . . .” She calculated in her mind. T