Page 76 of Nowhere to Hide
I grit my teeth against Milligan’s voice. He was right. Or my subconscious was right. I wasn’t sure which. And right then I didn’t care. I just wanted to make sure she was okay and I’d go. Then she slid her hand out and found mine. The tips of her fingers coasted over my thumb, and she finally seemed to settle.
Because of me?
Fuck.
I didn’t want her depending on me. It was the wrong road to go down for both of us. I lasted a few more minutes and slipped out from under her hand, but I left the door open so I could hear her.
I shook out my hands, the ghost of her touch finally dissipating.
I couldn’t sleep with her again.
Absolutely not.
I strode down to the other side of the hull and began digging out. It used to be Milligan’s bedroom before he met Alyssa. Back in the days where we escaped after a grueling job with Kendrick to fish and drink too much beer.
I was moving a bin of clothes when a postcard fell off the wall. On the back was a photo of us that he’d taken with his Pentax camera. It was slightly out of focus as all his shots were, but the two of us were mugging for the camera in front of the absurdly large shark display showing off how big a Great White’s bite circumference was.
He had this stupid tripod he brought everywhere that tucked in his vest.
He’d practically tackled me to get in frame for the photo, his booming laugh making me smile in reaction.
I slumped against the wall and slowly slid down until I was sitting. The temptation to get the bourbon and push away the memories washed over me like a wave. But Cilla needed me.
It made my skin feel too tight.
No one should be counting on me.
I closed my eyes and thunked my head against the wall.
She needs you as much as you need her, pal. Suck it up.
“Fuck off, Milligan,” I said aloud.
I blew out a breath and struggled to my feet. I tacked the postcard up near the skinny wardrobe closet and finished the room.
By the end I was sweaty and dusty, but tired.
I checked on Cilla, but she was deep asleep. The drugs doing their job to let her rest.
At least someone would be getting some sleep tonight.
I rinsed off in the shower then climbed on the mattress and listened to the water as I dried off. I must have drifted off.
I guess we’d count that as a win for both of us.
CHAPTER 16
CILLA
I tookto boat life with relative ease.
Locke and I slipped into a routine of sorts. Cleaning up, checking my wounds, breakfast, and then he left me alone. By the second week, I’d plowed through half of his books.
Locke was a solitary sort and wasn’t great with conversation. I managed to get a ten minute conversation out of him every few days. Otherwise, we hit a few points on the coast of Massachusetts. He was a damn good fisherman, and I poured over the cookbooks he had to find a new way to make trout taste good. The days he found salmon were way more fruitful.
His cabinets wouldn’t win any awards, but there were enough spices and lemon for me to be able to figure out a few decent meals.
We’d only made port once and a massive bag of groceries were waiting for us on the docks at the Boston Harbor. He’d been cagey about stopping there and wouldn’t let me off the damn boat.
