A Walk on the Dead Side (Secret Seal Isle Mysteries Book 3) Read online

  Scarlet wasn’t having any of that, though, and wrestled the pillow away from her, tossing it back onto the bed behind them. “No, he didn’t,” she corrected firmly. “He told you he couldn’t be with someone who wasn’t sure what or who they wanted, and that he was giving you space until you figured that out. And I, for one, think that’s a pretty gutsy thing to do.” She smiled and patted Cookie on the back. “If he didn’t have my seal of approval before, he sure as heck does now.”

  “Yeah, great, except now that you’ve cleared him to date me, he doesn’t want to.” Cookie held up her hands. “I know, I know, he does still want to. He’s just not going to. Not until I’ve got my head on straight.” She grumbled and pounded her fists on the bed. “Why is it the one time I’d rather have a needy, selfish guy, I get Mr. Noble?”

  Her friend peered at her. “Are you honestly telling me you’d like him better if he didn’t consider your feelings?”

  “Well, maybe for a few minutes,” Cookie mumbled, then sighed. “Fine. No, not really. Not the morning after, anyway.” She caught her friend’s grin. “Shut up.” She smacked Scarlet again, but this time her bestie grabbed the discarded pillow and used it to fend off the blow. Of course then Cookie had to snatch up another pillow and in seconds they were having a good old-fashioned pillow fight, just like they used to back when they’d roomed together.

  Ten minutes and a bunch of good thwacks later, they both collapsed onto the bed, staring up at the ceiling, their heads touching. “Feel better?” Scarlet asked.

  “Some,” Cookie admitted. “Thanks, Scar.”

  “Always.” Her friend lifted up to smile down at her. And then bopped her full in the face with the pillow.

  “What? Why, you—oh, it’s on!” And they went at it again.

  Which, right now, was exactly what Cookie needed.

  A little while later, after they’d both caught their breath, she and Scarlet headed back downstairs. Rain must have heard them coming, because she was standing in the hallway waiting for them. And she wasn’t alone.

  “Sweetie, you remember Hale, don’t you?” Rain declared as they approached. She was grinning like she’d won the lottery, and the way she had her arm wrapped protectively around the courier’s waist, she clearly felt she had. For his part, Hale looked a lot more cognizant than the last time they’d met, and just as happy to be cuddled up against Rain as she was with him.

  “Sure, hi,” Cookie said, waving as she reached the ground floor. “Oh, and this is my friend Scarlet. Scarlet, this is Hale.”

  “Hey, nice to meet you,” Hale said, smiling at them both. “Wow, I’ve gotta stop by this place more often,” he joked, which made Rain frown for half a second. But then he gave her an affectionate squeeze and she visibly relaxed again.

  “What, is it a party?” Hunter’s voice called out as he strolled in from the living room. Cookie noticed that he was wearing his “boating” outfit again, board shorts and tank top. Had he been wearing that earlier? She was pretty sure he hadn’t.

  “Hunter, you remember Hale,” Rain told him, looking delighted as the two men shook hands. “Hale, this is Hunter. You met him the last time you were here. The FBI agent?”

  “I did?” Hale looked a little puzzled, but then he shrugged good-naturedly. “Hey, sorry, dude. I’m a little fuzzy about that visit. You know how it goes.”

  Hunter didn’t, really, but he nodded anyway. “Sure, sure. So what’re you kids up to tonight?”

  “We’re going skinny-dipping down at this cove Hale knows,” Rain said, giggling like a schoolgirl. Then she eyed Hunter up and down and her grin turned predatory. “Want to join us?”

  “Hey, sure, y’all are all welcome,” Hale agreed, and Cookie gave him credit for only letting his eyes roam over her and Scarlet for half a second. “The more the merrier.”

  “Oh, I’d love to,” Scarlet said with impressive sincerity, “but I’ve got this call I’ve got to take.” Sure enough her phone was ringing, and she waved goodbye as she turned and slid past them into the living room, already raising the phone to her ear.

  “What about the two of you?” Rain asked Cookie and Hunter. “Nothing like a little naked night-swimming to clear your head.”

  Cookie glanced at Hunter, trying not to plead with her eyes. Fortunately, those years of partnering together had taught him how to interpret her looks at least half the time, and he shook his head.

  “Thanks for the offer,” he answered, “but I was actually thinking of taking Cookie out on the boat to look at the stars. Seems like a nice night for it.”

  “Oh?” If there was one thing about Rain, it was that she wasn’t selfish. She was thrilled to know that someone she cared about might be getting lucky too. And that most definitely included Cookie. Which was why her grin got even wider now, and she practically dragged Hale toward the front door. “That sounds lovely. You two have a great time,” she called over her shoulder, winking broadly at Cookie as she left. “I’ll want to hear all about it in the morning.” Then she and Hale exited, though not before Cookie got to see her mom grabbing her new beau’s butt in an iron grip.

  “I’m going to be in therapy until I’m ninety if she keeps this up,” Cookie stated, shaking her head as if that could clear away the image. Then she glanced up at Hunter. “Good save, though. Thanks.”

  “Ah, actually, I was serious,” he said. “What do you say? Nice night, clear sky, stars, boat, water?” He held out his arm to her like an old-fashioned gentleman.

  For a second, Cookie just stared at him. Was this really Hunter? Her Hunter, who was always so sleek and fashionable looking, whether suited-up for work or wearing something club-worthy on his downtime? And now here he was looking like a surfer dude and asking her to go stargazing with him? He still had his arm up, and he looked serious, so finally she laughed and linked her arm through his.

  “Yeah, sure, why not?” she said. “I mean, I would be delighted, kind sir.” She glanced down at what she was wearing and realized that the bikini, shorts, and halter-tied overshirt were probably perfect for this. Besides, it was just Hunter.

  Which didn’t explain the butterflies flitting about in her stomach as she let him lead her out.

  “Okay, so this is nice,” she admitted an hour later. They’d walked down to the dock and then taken the cigarette boat, which she was steadfastly refusing to ask Hunter about, out onto the open water, being careful to avoid active shipping lanes. Then they’d turned off the engine and just let the boat drift a little with the mild current as they lay on their backs on the forward couches that Hunter had extended, making them completely flat, like a king-size bed right there on the deck.

  It was perfectly clear tonight, and they were far enough away from both the island and shore that no lights interfered. The position gave them an amazing view of the velvety sky and its panorama of twinkling, glittering little lights.

  “More than nice,” he said. They were lying side by side, their hands linked together, their shoulders just brushing up against each other. For Cookie that meant Hunter was a solid, reassuring shape in her peripheral vision, calm and steady. Just like always. “I thought you could use a little escape.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “I guess you heard about what happened with Dylan?” She wasn’t entirely sure how much any of the others had overheard from inside the house.

  “Not anything specific,” he answered. “But I couldn’t help but notice that when you came back in alone, you looked like someone’d just shot your dog.” He shrugged, which sent a minor ripple through the couches. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well.”

  A sharp laugh tore out of her. “You could say that. He thinks I miss the FBI too much to be happy here.”

  “Is he right?” Hunter squeezed her fingers, and she tilted her head so that she and Hunter were eye to eye, only inches apart. “I’m serious, Charlie,” he said, reverting to the nickname he knew her by. “You loved being an agent. Are you really ready to give that up for good?”


  Since he was being serious about the question, she gave the answer real, proper consideration. “I don’t know,” she admitted after a minute. “I thought I was, for a bit. But I have to admit I did get kind of stir crazy. Then all sorts of weird crimes started going on here, and I was fine again.” She let herself smile a little. “I guess that’s not exactly normal, right? That I’m only happy when I’m dealing with dead people?”

  His fingers tightened on hers once again, and she noticed it was warm and comforting. “No,” he told her. “It’s not about dead people and you know it. You’re happiest when you’re trying to set things right.” For a second he was quiet, gently stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. Then he spoke again, and his voice was deep, and low, and filled with old pain. “Did I ever tell you why I joined the Bureau?”

  She could only shake her head. Something about his voice, his mood, his touch had her completely entranced.

  “When I was a kid,” Hunter went on, “I had this friend, Wally. Wally Brett. We were like brothers, we were so close. We did everything together. And his dad, Mr. Brett, he was like the best guy ever. My own dad, he…wasn’t always there for me. But Mr. Brett sure was. I always knew any time I was hurting, or confused, or scared, I could go over there, and he’d welcome me, talk to me, or give me whatever space I needed. But he was always ready to help.”

  He paused for a second, and now his voice was even more gravelly than before. “When we were twelve, I was over at Wally’s one night. His dad asked us if we’d eaten all the ice cream. He pretended to be mad about it but we knew he wasn’t really, and then he said he was going to go out and get some more.” There was a definite hitch to Hunter’s voice, and he was carefully not looking at Cookie now. “He got mugged on the way home. They took his wallet, his watch, his wedding ring. Then they shot him in the head. For no reason. He’d never hurt anybody, didn’t have it in him. I can’t imagine he put up a fight or even talked back, but they shot him anyway.”

  His grip started to hurt her fingers, but Cookie didn’t try to pull away. Instead she squeezed back, letting him know she was there for him.

  “They never found who did it,” Hunter continued after a minute, his voice ragged and his breathing harsh and heavy. “No clue. And I just… I couldn’t believe that this good man, this really good man, could get killed and whoever did it would just get away with it. I decided right then I was going to be a cop so I could catch bad guys like that.” He sighed. “But when I got to the police academy, I found out that while there’re some really good cops, there’re some really bad ones too. And there’s a lot of politics, red tape and a lot of noise complaints and parking violations and all that crap. I wanted to go after the real bad guys, not jaywalkers or ravers. That’s when I applied to the Bureau instead. So I could make a difference.”

  “I—I had no idea,” Cookie managed after he’d fallen silent. “Hunter, I’m so sorry.”

  He glanced over at her, and even in the dim starlight she could see his eyes were glassy with tears. “I didn’t tell you that to make you feel sorry for me,” he explained. “I told you so you’d know why I do what I do. What we do. Because I can’t stand to see bad people get away with hurting good ones. And I don’t think you can, either.” He reached out with his free hand and stroked her cheek. A delightful tingle of electricity raced through Cookie as he said, “The question is can you really sit back and let other people go after those bad people instead of doing it yourself?”

  Cookie froze, staring into his warm brown gaze. She already knew the answer to that, and so did he. She’d never been any good at sitting back and letting other people take control. But that didn’t mean she could only be happy in the FBI. In some ways, her time on the island had been even better than her tenure with the Bureau, because she’d still been helping people and catching crooks, but she’d been doing it with a lot more freedom and a lot less bureaucracy. It just meant she still needed to be able to help people and stand up for the law, no matter her official title.

  And right now, the person who needed her help the most was her partner and friend. Because he’d dredged up one of his most painful memories—for her. Propping herself up on one arm, she leaned over and draped herself across Hunter’s chest, hugging him tight. His arm went around her and he hugged her back, the pair of them lying there for a moment, neither of them saying anything.

  Then she pulled back and lifted herself up so she could see him. They were inches apart again, but no longer side by side. Now they were facing each other. And their lips were so close his breath was warm upon her cheek. He leaned forward that last little bit, and his lips brushed against hers.

  And even as she felt herself respond, pushing back to increase the contact, feeling that electricity spark through her again, Cookie couldn’t help but wonder, what do we do now?

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  More Secret Seal Isle Mysteries

  New Corpse in Town

  Life in the Dead Lane

  A Walk on the Dead Side

  Any Way You Bury It

  Death is in the Air

  Signed, Sealed, Fatal I’m Yours

  About the Author

  Lucy Quinn is the brainchild of New York Times bestselling author Deanna Chase and USA Today bestselling author Violet Vaughn. Having met over a decade ago in a lampwork bead forum, the pair were first what they like to call “show wives” as they traveled the country together, selling their handmade glass beads. So when they both started writing fiction, it seemed only natural for the two friends to pair up with their hilarious, laugh-out-loud, cozy mysteries. At least they think so. Now they travel the country, meeting up in various cities to plan each new Lucy Quinn book while giggling madly at themselves and the ridiculous situations they force on their characters. They very much hope you enjoy them as much as they do.

  Deanna Chase, is a native Californian, transplanted to the slower paced lifestyle of southeastern Louisiana. When she isn’t writing, she is often goofing off with her husband in New Orleans, playing with her two shih tzu dogs, or making glass beads.

  Violet Vaughn lives on the coast of Maine where she spends most mornings in the woods with her dogs, summers on the beach, and winters skiing in the mountains of Maine.

  www.lucyquinnauthor.com

  [email protected]