Bloody hell. Tristan’s truck had just blown up.
Eleven
As soon as he could move again, Tristan pulled Lulu to her feet and dragged her into a crevice between two slabs of rock. She didn’t resist as she stumbled after him.
They crouched underneath the rock just in time to avoid a piece of metal flying through the air. It landed on the sand mere inches from where they’d just been, then tumbled to a stop. Jesus. A piece of metal. From his truck. Which had just been blown to smithereens.
“What just happened?” Lulu whispered. Her eyes were enormous and nearly purple in the shadow of the breakwater.
“Shhh.” He put a finger to her lips, then hugged her against him and whispered in her ear. “Listen.”
She nodded, and they both went quiet. The roar and crackle of the burning truck filled the air, soon followed by the sound of sirens. Darius Boone and his crew were on their way.
That made Tristan relax. But he didn’t move. Someone could still be out there. No one could clamber across these rocks without making a sound. He’d played enough hide-and-seek here to know that.
After an endless length of minutes, he released his hold on her. “I don’t hear anything, do you?”
She shook her head. “Just your poor truck. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s insured. I’m just glad we weren’t closer to it.”
He felt a shudder run through her body.
Actually, he had no idea if his truck was insured against random explosion. Or intentional explosion.
“Trucks don’t just explode out of nowhere, do they?” she whispered.
“Not generally.”
“It must have been him. It must have been deliberate. Mr. Bad Guy blew up your truck and it’s because of me.” The shudders intensified. He tightened his arms around her, trying not to notice how good it felt to hold her, and how good she smelled. Like strawberries and whipped cream. “I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be here, Tristan. You could have been killed.”
“And you,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but you have nothing to do with this. This is my fault. If I’d stayed on the ship, or picked another boat to trespass on, or simply left town…”
“Shhhh.” Realizing she was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack, he ran his hands up and down her arms. He was trying to soothe her, but the gesture had the unfortunate side effect of making him notice how silky her skin felt. “Did you blow up my truck?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Then stop it. This wasn’t your doing.”
Unless there was more to the story than he knew. Which, since he didn’t know any of the story, was entirely possible.
He waited until her trembling had eased. The fire engine had reached the truck, but its siren was still wailing. A new noise joined the ruckus; the hiss of water dousing the flames.
“Lulu, you do realize that you’re going to have to tell me what the fuck is going on now, right?”
She expelled a shaky breath as she drew away from him. “I suppose I owe you that. Or at the least a new truck.”
“I’ll settle for an explanation.” Hell, he had two old junker trucks sitting in his yard. A few parts and some tinkering and he’d be back in business. And he’d just cleaned out his poor Chevy, so he hadn’t even lost any traps or tools or gear or any of the other clutter he usually carted around. “Whenever you’re ready,” he prompted her.
“You mean, like now?”
“Now would be good, so I have some idea of what to say to Darius.”
“Who’s Darius?”
“The fire chief. I’m sure he’ll be getting involved, because truck explosions don’t happen every day around here. No more than once a week at most.”
His silly joke worked, and her tense expression eased. “That’s a relief, because tourism would really take a hit, and that would leave a big mess for the next mayor to deal with. Poor rooster, he’s really going to have his hands full.”
He refused to go along with her attempt to distract him.
“Any chance it was something mechanical?” she asked, almost wistfully.
“The fuck if I know, but it’s a five-year old truck, which makes it essentially brand-new around here. Zero mechanical issues to this point. So I’d say no, there’s not much chance of that.”
She let out a long sigh and dropped her head into her hands. He wanted to stroke her hair, tell her it would be okay, and that she didn’t have to say anymore if she didn’t want to.
But he stopped himself, because it was time. Past fucking time. He was flying blind here, and now he’d lost his truck and he deserved an explanation.
So he waited, and waited. What was taking so long? This should be simple. All he wanted was the truth.
Finally she spoke. “Do you have any skills that are almost like superpowers?”
“Excuse me?”
“Like…I don’t know, fishing. It sounds like you’re very good at it. Would you say it’s your superpower?”
He thought about it briefly. “I’m good at fishing, sure. But I’m better at being a captain. Or at least I was. I’m not sure anymore.”
“So your superpower was captaining a boat, but now you’ve lost it?”
Her curious expression made him stiffen. “We’re not talking about me now. No tangents. Go on.”
“Okay, sorry. But I hope you tell me about that sometime. My superpower is that I always remember faces. Not just faces, but where I saw them. I’ve never forgotten a face. When I was twenty-five, I recognized my babysitter from when I was two years old. I greeted her like an old friend and she had no idea who I was. It’s just one of those odd quirks of how my brain works.”
“So you recognized someone’s face?”
“Yes. On the cruise ship, in the middle of one of my very best performances of Singing in the Rain.”
“So sorry, I hope someone caught it on tape.”
She blinked at him in surprise. “I never even thought of that. Maybe there’s a tape sitting in someone’s phone. Maybe that would…” She shrugged, changing direction. “It’s a little late for that now. Anyway, part of the act is that I take my mac off—sorry, my raincoat, as you call it here—and fling it into the audience. I always aim for a man, because they love it. Women don’t seem to like having garments thrown at them. So I tossed it at a man sitting alone, and right when he caught it the spotlight shone onto his face. And I recognized him instantly.”
“From the true crime show, right?” he asked, impatient to get to the end of the story so he could climb up the rocks and debrief with Darius.
“Yes. As I mentioned this morning, my mum and I used to watch those shows when she was feeling blue. I recognized him as a kidnapper who’s been featured on the FBI’s Most Wanted list. Very dangerous, because not just anyone makes those lists, do they?”
“No, those spots are very coveted,” he said dryly. “Okay, so you threw a raincoat on a criminal. Then what?”
“Unfortunately, I…you know…gasped.” She demonstrated a shocked gasp. “I made it quite obvious that I recognized him. I should have been smarter, but I’m not accustomed to performing for criminals. As far as I know,” she added, after thinking it over a bit. “I tried to cover it up by pretending my gasp was part of the act. I did it again, very Betty Boop, covering my mouth.”