Page 2 of June 7

The extra expense wasn't a problem. As vice president, the club provided enough security so he could buy a house if he wanted. The duplex was only a temporary answer to one of his problems.

Once he got a feel for the land and what was available on the market, he'd buy a house. He still had the profits from selling his place back in Beaverton.

A soft cry carried in the wind. He walked to the edge of the concrete pad and gazed at the water. The sun had set almost an hour ago. The only light came from the glow of the moon.

The whine came again over the pounding of the surf. Investigating closer, he walked over to the partition separating the two patios behind the duplex and peeked around the divider.

A tall man lifted his head, spotted Bane, and ran in the sand toward the ocean. He jerked his gaze back to the woman, sitting on the edge of the dune with her knees drawn up to her chest and her feet buried in the sand. Her arms hung lax at her sides as she stared at the ocean.

The cry came again. He squinted, finding it hard to believe the noise came from her. Her solemn expression never changed.

Blonde shoulder-length hair blew off her face. High cheekbones took the brunt of the wind. He couldn't see the color of her eyes, but she rarely blinked as she stared at the ocean.

He approached her, waiting to see if she would turn toward him, but she remained staring at the water as if frozen.

He hadn't seen anyone around earlier when he was in and out, moving his shit in the rental.

He looked around for the man who was with her, but he'd disappeared into the darkness.

Knowing he wouldn't leave a lone woman outside when upset, he stepped in front of her, cutting off her view. Only then could he see the container at her side.

He squatted, getting a better look at the bottle, and whistled under his breath. She'd downed a whole bottle of liquor.

He turned his attention to her. She stared at him. He waited for her eyes to refocus.

Recognizing she wasn't alone, she sprang from the ground and wrapped her arms around his neck. Knocked backward by the force, he grabbed her as he fell to the sand.

She curled on top of him. Wiggling and grabbing, she tried to become one with him.

"Hey, now." He flipped onto his side.

She plastered herself against his chest and hooked her leg around his hip. Every time he managed to take her arm off his neck, she clamped her leg down on him harder. He couldn't budge her.

"Slow down, babe." He gave up on pushing her away and held her to his chest. "How about you tell me what's going on?"

"Don't leave me." She tightened her arms around him.

"Are you hurt?" He ran his hands down her back.

She squirmed under his touch. Not away, but even closer. She appeared fine.

Sitting up, he couldn't get to his feet before she straddled his lap. His hand hit the bottle. He picked up the drink and squinted at the label. Tequila.

No wonder she moaned and groaned against him.

Clutching her to his chest, he rocked back and forth until he got his legs under him and could heft himself up to his feet. He walked to the patio and stopped.

"Hop off," he said.

She clutched him tighter.

He let go of her, expecting her body weight to make her slide off him. Instead, she clung to him like a monkey on a palm tree. He looked at the duplex. The sliding glass door was open.

He had no other option than to put her inside. She was too drunk to listen.

"Time for bed." He strode forward and walked into her place.

A light from the bedroom led him through the small area opposite his side of the duplex. He at least knew where he was going. He only hoped no husband was waiting somewhere in the place to greet him. He was too damn tired from moving to beat the shit out of someone.

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