Under the Boardwalk (Costas Sisters 1)

Shut up and don’t cause trouble was the mantra repeated by caseworkers. Quinn ought to know. But even Quinn with all his experience hadn’t known the kid was a girl until the third time they met. He hoped that once she adjusted, she’d trust her new foster family and revert to looking like what she was, a feminine young teen.

“They don’t let you wear hats in school. Go now or I’m calling Aaron and Felice,” he told her.

Sam’s bravado crumbled and tears welled in her huge eyes. “They won’t care, Quinn. Felice is pregnant and they don’t need me around anymore.”

Before Quinn could react, Sam took off in the direction of school. “Oh hell,” he muttered.

Aaron and Felice were a young couple who’d failed at adoption too many times. They’d turned to foster care and requested a girl, even accepting a teenager, something few families willingly did. A hardass by nature, Quinn still had faith in Sam’s foster parents.

He ran his hand through his already windblown hair and made a mental note to check in with Felice before pushing his thoughts toward his problems.

His Chevy Blazer sat parked across the street, but the crisp fall air, combined with the possibility of being alone, called to him. He had time before he had to return to the charade he was currently living, and damned if he wasn’t going to make the most of it. He headed for the boardwalk and Islet Pier, the place that had been his refuge for as long as he could remember.

At this time of year the beach was deserted, the snack shacks were empty, and all would remain that way till spring. He breathed in the salty air and a sense of peace filled him—until his serenity was broken.

A jet black-haired woman strode down the steps, onto the sand, and toward the pier, beneath where Quinn stood. Her long dark hair blew around her shoulders in wild disarray, and the classic profile was unmistakable. A jolt of familiarity kicked him in the gut.

“No frigging way,” he muttered aloud. Hadn’t he taken care of Zoe Costas himself?

He calmed his thoughts and suddenly the other possibility dawned, this one more frightening than the last. If it wasn’t Zoe he was watching beneath Islet Pier, it was her twin, Ari, the college psychology professor who Zoe had sworn was safely in Vermont. Who Zoe had promised wouldn’t return to Ocean Isle and get in the way. Not on a bet. No matter how grief stricken Ari would have been when she heard of her twin’s presumed death, Ari wouldn’t desert her students mid-semester and fly home. She’d grieve in her own world, the sane world she’d escaped to years before. Zoe had promised.

Shit, he thought, shaking his head. Obviously, because of their estrangement, Zoe had no idea what her twin would or wouldn’t do. Because Ari was here.

And Quinn had a problem.

Before he could decide what to do about it, the distinct sound of a male voice yelled above the crashing waves. A split second later, a shot rang out. Acting on instinct, Quinn jumped from the pier and tackled Ari to the ground.

Ariana hit the sand hard, grunting on impact. Pain shot through her chest. But even with the wind knocked out of her, she was keenly aware of the hard male above her and the too real knowledge that someone had taken a shot.

At her.

Waves beat against the shore and seagulls screeched in the air, but in her ear, she felt hot, heavy breath. Every last nerve ending came alive with a female awareness she hadn’t felt in so long.

Seconds passed in which neither of them moved. Not only was Ariana covered by a heavy male body, but he smelled extremely good. He was a combination of muscle and determination. And he’d either saved her life or fired that gunshot. She wasn’t about to wait around to find out which.

As soon as he rolled away from her, she rose to her feet and took off at a run, zigzagging across the beach. The sand slowed her effort and she hadn’t made it more than halfway to the main road before he grabbed her around the waist. Hauling her into his arms, he pulled her behind a vacant snack shack.

“What the hell kind of run was that?” he asked, breathing too easily considering she was huffing and puffing.

“Serpentine,” she managed to explain, through her wheezing and fear.

Behind her, she thought she heard him laugh. “From The In-Laws?” His amused voice held utter disbelief.

But Ariana wasn’t laughing. She had escaped into old movies to get away from her family’s antics, and she’d obviously learned something. “If you ask me, you ought to be applauding my ability to think on my feet. When someone shoots at you, you don’t give them a straight place to aim. You give them a moving target instead. It makes sense to me.”