In the ocean, a storm brewed. Already the sky had turned dark purple and black. Flashes of light punctuated the darkness behind the clouds and heavy gusts rattled the open windows. Normally, Cameron enjoyed storms. Being tucked in her cottage with her daughter and a good book while the wind howled and rain slashed felt oddly cozy. Not tonight. As her gaze trailed from the window to the empty shelf, a chill slid down her spine. The threatening storm only reminded her how isolated she and her neighbors were on this island, like sitting ducks in the middle of a frothy pond.
Creek stood from where he lay on the floor beside Ara’s sleeping spot on the couch. His ears lifted and the hair on the back of his neck rose. That chill down Cameron’s spine spread to her limbs. Goosebumps bloomed on her skin.
“Creek,” she whispered, trying to get the animal’s attention without waking her daughter.
Ignoring her, the dog prowled to the hallway. Frozen, Cameron stood as Creek sniffed the air. Suddenly, he darted to her bedroom. Low growls emitted from his throat. Despite her fear, Cameron wanted to follow and investigate, but Arabella lie sleeping peacefully on the couch. If she went into the bedroom, her daughter would be left alone.
Below the howl of the wind, came the sound of something against the door that led from her bedroom to the small porch. Her heart pounded until she feared the damn thing would split right out of her chest. Leaving Creek to investigate, she rushed to the couch and pulled Ara into her arms. She needed to get the girl to the safety of her bedroom. Though the smaller room had a window, the opening sat closer to the ceiling and was barely big enough to fit the little imp. Doubtful any of Victor Roberts’s men could get through. The girl protested being handled so roughly. Mumbling in her slumber, she tried to roll away.
Cameron wrestled with the girl. “Come on, baby. Let Mommy get you to bed.”
Ara mumbled some incoherent argument but went limp. With her focus still on the door, Cameron lifted her small burden, then shuffled backward to Ara’s room. What she wouldn’t give for a phone right now. Although she kept the sat phone in her room, it wouldn’t connect with anyone on the island. By the time someone answered and got to her, whatever threat she faced would be over. For better or for worse.
After depositing Ara on her bed, she covered the girl with a blanket, then ran back to the hall. She closed the door, hoping whoever wanted access to her home wouldn’t search out her daughter.
With trembling hands, she reached for the small pistol she’d placed on the table after Ara had fallen asleep. Normally, the gun stayed locked away on a high shelf in the back of her closet. Tonight, she needed its reassurance.
Checking that the chair she’d wedged under the front door handle was still secure, she moved down the hall. Creek still growled. So far, he hadn’t grown to full on barking. She crept toward her room with the gun gripped securely in her fist.
Sweat dotted her forehead. For the first time since coming to the island, she wished she had close neighbors. Someone to scare off an intruder. Someone to hear her if she screamed. Tonight, with the storm, no one would hear her… or Arabella.
The knob of her door jiggled. She’d twisted rope around it earlier to keep it from turning. Creek’s growls grew louder. He lunged at the door. Teeth bared. The jiggles ceased. Listening, the dog cocked his head, then spun away, racing down the hall.
Cursing under her breath, Cameron sprinted after him. Creek charged ahead, barks coming from deep in his throat. The front door banged against the chair she’d wedged beneath the knob.
Creek snarled at the door, but his threats did nothing to deter whoever tried to gain entrance.
“Go away,” Cameron yelled. Or tried to yell. Instead, her voice came out as barely a croak. She swallowed, coughed, and tried again. “Go away. There’s nothing for you here. I have a gun.” She released the safety, easing her finger over the trigger. “I’ll use it.”
The only answer was a hard jolt against the door.
“Go away.” So what if it sounded more like a plea than a demand? She just wanted this person far away from her and her daughter. She didn’t want to shoot them. As a doctor, she’d sworn to save lives, not take them. But when faced with choosing between Ara’s life and someone else’s, she wouldn’t hesitate.
Creek ran from the door to the window. Shit. She hadn’t thought to close the glass. Only a flimsy screen kept the intruder from entering the house. The door rattled again. This time so hard, the chair cracked. Fear exploded in Cameron’s chest at the same time Creek threw himself against the window screen with spit flying from his mouth.
The screen gave and the dog sailed through, landing on the porch. Cameron didn’t move. Instead, she stood with her gun trained on the open window. Footsteps pounded over the porch planks and Creek’s snarls grew fainter.
Too afraid to move, she stood frozen. Listening. Silence filled the house. Even Ara made no sound. Putting one foot behind the other, Cam shuffled backward to check on her daughter.
Arabella still lay in her bed, the blanket secured at her neck. Cameron let go of the breath she’d been holding. Flipping the safety back on the gun, she let her arm hang and leaned against the doorjamb.
A loud rap at the door shattered the relative silence of the night, pulling a scream from her throat. Arabella flinched but otherwise didn’t move. Back on alert, Cameron tightened her grip on the gun, then crept to the main room.
“Doc, something’s wrong with the door. I can’t get it open.”
Keso.
Close to crying in relief, she ran forward. The chair toppled to the floor as she kicked it aside and yanked open the door.
“Hey Doc. What…” Keso’s green eyes swept over her face, widening. His body tensed. He pushed into the house, closing the door behind him. With an iron grip, he took hold of her shoulders. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
His gaze burned intently into hers, as if he focused enough he could pull the answers he sought from her soul.
Adrenaline dumped from her system, causing her hands, then her body, to shake. How did she explain? She didn’t even know herself what had happened. Had whoever had been in her home come back? Was someone just visiting? Had it been the storm?
“I… I don’t know.” She bit her lip to keep it steady. “Someone was at the door. They… I think they were trying to get in. Creek went–oh my God. Creek. He went after them.”
Returning to the door, she threw it open. Keso came to stand behind her. Again, he placed his hands on her shoulders. This time, he massaged the tense muscles.
He bent, speaking against her ear. “What did Creek do?”
Shivering at the chill caused by his breath on her skin, she replied, “He went after them. Out the window.” She turned to show him the damage.
Unconcerned with the window, he encircled her in his arms and held her against his chest. “You’re okay?” His lips brushed her forehead.
Closing her eyes, she just let herself be held. Although she no longer sought pleasure in Keso’s arms, he’d always been a source of comfort for her.
“Could it have been a neighbor? Someone we know?” His muscles tensed. “Or maybe your boyfriend?”
Reflexively she said, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Dr. Ian,” he growled.
There was that guilt again. “I can’t imagine what reason Ian would have for walking out here with a storm coming.”
She felt rather than saw Keso’s smirk. “I can.”
Had she overreacted? Maybe Ian had come by to check on her or… A blush warmed her cheeks. The memory of his body within hers just this morning made her core tighten. Achingly aware of why Ian may have come to her, she eased away from Keso. “Tomorrow I’ll ask around. Maybe Ian… or Wes needed me at the clinic. H-hopefully they can h-handle it now.”
Under Keso’s assessing gaze, heat washed over her,.
“Yeah.” Releasing her, he turned to the busted window. “I think this is salvageable. Why don’t I fix it?”
Not trusting herself to say more, she nodded.
“Mind if I take the couch again tonight?” Without waiting for an answer, he leaned through the window and retrieved the screen. “I think I hear Creek now.”
Closing her eyes, she focused on the sounds around her. Sure enough, she could hear the steady pad of the dog’s feet. As her breathing returned to normal and her heartbeat slowed, she went to greet him at the door.
“Do you really think it was just a neighbor?” She called as she waited in the doorway, staring out at the black night.
“Yeah, of course,” Keso replied, refusing to meet her gaze.
Creek trotted onto the porch. His large tongue hung out of his mouth.
“Hey boy.” Crouching, she opened her arms for him.
He ambled over, going into the shelter of her embrace.
“Good boy,” she cooed, scratching behind his ears. “Aren’t you…” Something thick and wet covered her hand. Jerking back, she looked down. Blood coated the dog’s snout. “Keso.”
At the sound of alarm in her voice, he dropped the screen and ran to her. “What? What’s wrong?”
Lifting her hands, she showed him the blood, then pointed to Creek’s snout.
Gently, Keso took the dog’s head in his hands, turning it side to side as he inspected the animal for injuries. “It’s not his.”
Creek knew everyone on the island. A loving, docile animal, he rarely barked. Biting had never been an issue. The only aggression he’d ever shown had been the day Victor Roberts and his men came to the clinic. Dread settled like a brick in her stomach.
“I’m thinking maybe it wasn’t a neighbor,” she whispered.