Page 5 of Against the Wind

“Just tired.” I pushed back from the table, my appetite vanishing. “Think I’m gonna head up. Tomorrow’s going to be crazy at the clinic.”

Caroline frowned. “You haven’t finished your soup.”

“I had some appetizers at the Brewhouse.” The lie tasted bitter on my tongue. “Really, I’m fine. Just need some sleep.”

“Want me to save you a bowl for later?” Caroline’s dark eyes studied my face.

“Please.” I kissed the top of her head, then bent to hug the kids. “Goodnight monsters. Be good for your mama.”

“Night Tía!” they chorused.

I took my bowl to the sink, then retreated. My medical bag was where I’d left it by the stairs. I grabbed it, going up two stepsat a time. In my room, I closed the door and leaned against it, letting out a shaky breath.

Hurricane Daniel. That hadn’t been the actual name of the storm that had trapped me in a stairwell my second year of residency, during the worst storm to hit New Orleans since Katrina. But it was how I thought of the man who’d been there to keep me sane during those long hours. Because he’d swept into my carefully ordered life and disrupted everything before blowing back out again.

My head dropped back against the door as the memories flooded in. How the wind had howled outside that concrete tunnel. Rain pelting the building. Daniel’s steady voice with that hypnotic drawl that had a Cajun edge, walking me through Coast Guard protocol, explaining how they tracked storms. The way his hands had sketched patterns in the air as he detailed wind rotation and pressure systems.

The power had flickered, then died. And his fingers had found mine in the dark, giving me an anchor in the storm. I’d turned toward him as the only stable thing and somehow our mouths had brushed. An accident at first. Then so very much not as we’d dove at each other, his hands tangling in my hair as he’d pressed me back against the wall and made me forget about everything but the storm he stirred inside me.

I shoved away from the door, pacing my room. It hardly mattered anymore. That kiss. The time that followed when we’d spent every spare moment together. None of it had meant enough to make him stay. Or even discuss staying. He’d just announced one day that he’d been promoted and was moving to Seattle. As if my opinion, our relationship, hadn’t factored into his decision at all. And no matter how he’d acted, I knew it had been a choice.

The wood floor creaked beneath my bare feet as I prowled to the window. Beyond the glass, beach grasses whipped in thestrengthening wind. Another storm was coming. But I’d weather it just fine. I was a Carrera, after all. We’d survived everything life threw at us—an abusive father, the death of our mother, med school debt. A broken heart. What was one more hurricane in the face of all that?

FOUR

DANIEL

The rumble of the Zodiac’s engines cut through the morning calm as we made our way down the Atlantic side of the Outer Banks to Hatterwick Island, the furthest Southern tip of the chain of barrier islands that ran along the North Carolina coast. Finally. I wished the trip was for the personal reasons that had drawn me across the country to begin with, but if I wanted the opportunity to actually stay, my duty had to come first.

With the hurricane inbound, our official mission today was part patrol, part storm prep and evacuation assistance, but I was keeping my eyes peeled for any evidence of the drug runners hoofing it to move product before the storm hit. The inevitable chaos that frequently surrounded evacuations could provide good cover. But with less than forty-eight hours until Hannah was due to make landfall, the pressure was on, and that could likewise lead to mistakes. I could only hope to be fortunate enough to be able to execute both pieces of my mission while I was down here. It could never hurt to impress the brass.

“Skipper, I’ve got a flashing light at ten o’clock,” Vance called out over the din.

I looked to the left and spotted the distant flicker of a signaling lamp. “Let’s check it out.”

Angling toward the light, I bumped up our speed, cutting neatly through the swells. As we approached, the sleek lines of a stranded sailboat came into view, sails luffing uselessly. A single sailor stood on the decks, waving at our approach. Legitimate distress, or could this guy be waiting out here to make some kind of transfer of goods?

“Look alive, y’all. Be ready for anything.” I pulled the Zodiac alongside and throttled back the engines.

The sailor, a middle-aged man with a weather-worn face and silver at his temples, curled his hands around the rail. “Y’all are a sight for sore eyes. Engine gave out. I was trying to make it back before the storm, but I didn’t get far.”

“Headed to Hatterwick?” I asked.

“To the marina there, yeah.”

Courtesy of the surveillance photos we’d been studying in our task force meetings, I knew exactly where that was. “We’ll give you a tow.”

Peterson helped secure the line, and we turned toward the marina on the southwest tip of the island.

After three weeks of studying charts and aerial photos from our task force meetings, I expected it to look more familiar than it did. But two-dimensional tactical representations could never capture the soul of a place. The island rose up from the waves, a long, low shape with the green of maritime forests as a backdrop to the mega-houses that marched along the coast like colorful jewels. But on the otherwise empty beach just to the north, I saw a cluster of dark shapes moving along the shoreline. The wild horses Hatterwick was known for, I assumed. I’d seen them marked on our patrol maps as a local wildlife consideration, but seeing them in person was different. I wished we had time for a closer look, but there was work to be done. God and a good grovel willing, I’d be spending a lot more time down here in the future, and there’d be another opportunity..

We delivered the sailboat to the harbor, getting it safely back to its slip and secured before we moored our own vessel. Echo team gathered our gear and made our way into Sutter’s Ferry to check in at the fire station since it was our designated command post for the duration. Despite being team lead, I hung back slightly, letting Vance take point. No need to draw attention to myself just yet.

The village itself was laid out more or less in a grid, with a main thoroughfare following the curve of the harbor that faced Pamlico Sound and the distant mainland. We kept to the sidewalk, walking past dive shops, fishing supply stores, restaurants, and a whole host of tourist shops with kitschy names like Tides and Trifles, Ocean Oddities, and Seas the Day. Were any of these fronts for moving product other than tourist souvenirs? Drop sites? That was the kind of thing we needed boots on the ground to uncover. After the hurricane was past, I intended to make the recommendation that we embed a few men undercover to better make such an assessment. I hoped like hell I’d be one of them, and that it would give me a chance to make things up to Gabi. But one thing at a time.

The streets and sidewalks were bumping with people. Despite the fact that I wasn’t a native, it was easy to tell the tourists from the locals based on the frenetic energy surrounding them as they made last-minute stops and gathered up their things before heading for the last ferry.

I hoped the ferry company had enough ships running and enough time to get everyone off-island who wanted off.

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