A large swell seemed to serve as a challenge-a dare. Quinn turned her kayak into the wave and let it take her to shore, onto the grass and sand in front of the barbed wire. She climbed out, splashing into the cold water.
Unfastening and unzipping her vest, she laid her paddle across the kayak and caught her breath, hands on hips, as she surveyed the narrow strip of sand and wild grasses. The wash of waves behind her soothed her taut nerves.
Why had Alicia come to Breakwater at dawn? As out of her head as she’d been, she still had reasons for what she’d done. She’d come to the coffee shop for Quinn’s help. Why here?
Huck Boone and Vern Glover appeared on the other side of the fence. Neither man looked pleased to see her. Quinn shrugged off her life vest, dumping it into the cockpit of her kayak as she squinted at them. “You both look quite spruced up. Having lunch with the boss?” She pointed at the sky. “I saw his helicopter arrive.”
“Lunch is over,” Glover said.
Huck pushed down the barbed wire and stepped over it onto her side of the beach. “I thought you were going back to Washington.”
“I am. Just not yet.” She nodded to the fence. “Worried about lost kayakers and wanderlust bird-watchers?”
He just narrowed his eyes on her, as if he could see through her bravado to all her messy motives and emotions and knew exactly why she was there.
She kept on. “Not much protection, is it?”
Glover grunted. “There’s what you see and what you don’t see.”
“You mean, like land mines?”
Not liking her answer, he took a step forward, but Huck grinned, glancing back at his colleague. “She’s got her sense of humor back, anyway.”
“It’s a sick sense of humor,” Glover said, his eyes darkening. “I know people who’ve lost limbs to land mines. They’re a serious business.”
Quinn started to say something back to him, but Huck held up a hand and gave her a sharp, warning look, silencing her. “What do you want?” he asked.
She realized she had no idea. She’d acted impulsively, getting out her second kayak, dragging it down to the water, paddling up the bay. A wonder she hadn’t ended up in Maryland. She squared her shoulders, feeling the cold bay water dripping down her legs inside her jeans. “Oliver Crawford’s here, right?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “I’d like to see him.”
Without waiting for any by-your-leave from the two men, Quinn pushed down the barbed wire with one foot, then climbed over to Glover’s side of the fence. The ends of her hair had gotten wet from paddling up to the compound. She shivered, suddenly feeling cold.
Vern snorted in disgust. “You handle this, Boone,” he said, about-facing and stalking up across the yard.
Quinn frowned at the departing bodyguard. “Mr. Warm and Fuzzy must make nervous clients feel safe and secure.”
“You want a Mr. Rogers protecting you or a Vern Glover?”
“I don’t want anyone protecting me.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Huck stepped back over the fence. “Your lips are purple.”
“It was colder on the water than I expected.” She shifted just enough to get out of his shadow. As she stood in the sunlight, his eyes seemed to have darkened. “If you take me to see Ollie, I can warm up at the house.”
“Ollie, huh?”
“That’s what my former boss calls him. To each other, they’re Gerry and Ollie. To the rest of us, they’re Gerard and Oliver.” She tried to smile, but it felt strained. “In case you’re wondering, I’m never Quinny.”
Huck settled back on his heels, studying her a moment. “Quinn, go home. I can take you back to your cottage-”
“Okay, I’ll find Ollie on my own.” Feeling light-headed, a little out of control, she pointed toward the white house with its black shutters and gracious landscaping. “He’s up there, right? All you have to do is let your guys know I’m friendly, so no one shoots me.”
“No one’s going to shoot you.”
“What about you? Are you armed?”
He didn’t answer her.
Taking a few steps in the soft, cool grass, she could feel her heart racing and knew the shock of Alicia’s death was having an effect on her. She hadn’t slept or eaten enough in the last two days. She was half-frozen. Normally, she was self-disciplined, thinking before acting. “My great-grandfather died in an avalanche because he was impulsive.”
“What?”
She paid no attention to him, barely paused for a breath. “But my great-great-grandfather lived to almost a hundred, and he took more risks than any of us. When is a risk calculated and when is a risk reckless?” She glanced back at her companion, then answered her own question. “Depends on whether you live or die.”