Deep Waters

DUTY TO PROTECT

Thirty feet underwater when her oxygen tank fails, Caley Flynn fears it’s been sabotaged—and she’ll be the next to die. Her intern’s already dead, her home breached and something’s amiss at her Florida marine-life rescue center...but no one believes she’s in danger. Except Shepherd Lightman. When Caley’s brother asked him to check on her, the marine turned security specialist hoped it would be a case of calming down a nervous veterinarian. But the threats are all too real. Rescuing Caley and remaining alive isn’t easy, but resisting his boss’s sister is where the real danger lies. Because with his heart in the balance, he’ll do whatever it takes to stop a killer who’s desperate to keep a secret hidden.

What was happening to her?

First someone tried to kill her underwater, now her home was ransacked.

“Go get cleaned up,” Shep said as he surveyed the disaster.

Right now Caley didn’t need clean clothes. What she needed was comfort.

Shep had proven he could protect her physically. But she needed emotional security and that wasn’t his strong suit.

Still, she inched toward him, and he backed up until the counter blocked his getaway.

She slipped her arms around him and rested her head on his chest. “I know this isn’t part of your assignment, but I need a hug. I need you to tell me everything’s going to be fine.”

Slowly his arms encircled her. “Everything will.” His voice faltered but held enough confidence she believed him. His chest felt like an iron wall that no one could penetrate. Sheltered by him, no one could touch her. And while that brought comfort, it was also terrifying.

At some point Shep would let go. But whoever was after her wouldn’t stop. Not until he had what he wanted...or she was dead.

Dear Reader,

I think sometimes we believe that when we mess up, God will withhold His love from us. We compare a perfect God to imperfect people. People can disappoint us, hurt us, abandon us and leave us a shredded mess. Sometimes on purpose. Sometimes not. But God never changes His mind about us. He loves us no matter how many times we mess up. He loves us unconditionally. Wholly. He never withholds His love. His arms are always open.

I’m glad Shepherd learned that. My prayer is that if you’ve felt this way, you’ll let God prove you wrong. He wants to lavish you with love, mercy and grace. You belong to Him. Always.

I’d love to hear from you. Connect with me at [e-mail] and stay “Patched In” by joining my email list at www.jessicarpatch.com.

Warmly,

Jessica

JESSICA R. PATCH lives in the mid-South, where she pens inspirational contemporary romance and romantic suspense novels. When she’s not hunched over her laptop or going on adventurous trips with willing friends in the name of research, you can find her watching way too much Netflix with her family and collecting recipes to amazing dishes she’ll probably never cook. To learn more about Jessica, please visit her at jessicarpatch.com.

Deep Waters

Jessica R. Patch

www.millsandboon.co.uk

When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown...

—Isaiah 43:2

To Crimson:

Because I dedicated the last book to your mother, and she passed down the love of sea turtles to you. When you learn to read, thank her for this. Love, Auntie Jess.

Special Thanks to:

My agent, Rachel Kent; my editor, Shana Asaro; my brainstorming partner, Susan Tuttle; and Sara Turnquist for all your invaluable information on sea turtles. Anything I’ve stretched for fiction’s sake is on me.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

EPILOGUE

Extract

Copyright

ONE

The full moon’s radiance blanketed the ocean. Tides were high. The generous breeze swirled in from powerful waves, leaving nothing but briny air to fill Caley Flynn’s nostrils as she tiptoed down the boardwalk to her favorite place in the whole world. Her fingers trailed the weathered wood railing as grains of sand collected under her newly manicured nails.

Seven hours from Atlanta, where she’d grown up, she’d made Turtle Bay, Florida, her home right out of vet school. A small and lovely tourist town nestled along the peninsula separating the Gulf of Mexico and Tampa Bay, it was known for an abundance of sea turtles—especially loggerheads that nested on the sandy shores—fine dining and glorious summers.

She slipped out of her hot-pink flip-flops with fading green palm trees and descended the sandy stairs onto the beach. She loved the way the powdery sand coated her feet. As she met the cool water, a sigh escaped her; she even relished the salty film the surf left in its wake. But mostly she loved this season. It was June and sea turtle nesting was in full swing. Through October she had the unique opportunity to study loggerheads, leatherbacks, green turtles and hawksbills as they swam to shore, burrowed a nest in the sand and deposited hundreds of eggs before swimming back into the depths of the sea. In the next couple of months, the hatchlings would make their trek to the water with nothing but the night’s gentle light to guide them.

Caley had been on faculty as the head marine life veterinarian at the Arnold Simms Sea Turtle Rescue, Rehabilitation and Research Center since she’d moved here, thanks to a few strings pulled by her professor and mentor, Leo Fines.

Every day was overloaded, but at night...nights sometimes belonged only to her, and she enjoyed her solitary strolls. She’d had a lot on her mind lately trying to secure a new grant for the nonprofit center. The fund-raising gala was coming up, and she was in charge of making sure everything went off without a hitch. They needed this grant. They needed the donations from investors.

The foamy water teased her bare feet and ankles as wet sand slipped away with the undertow. She gazed up at the moon, gray clouds casting shadows across the dark water.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

The lull of the ocean reminded her that the world didn’t have to be full of violence. All her life she’d lived with the fear that something bad could happen to her or a member of her family. She hailed from a long line of navy men and women who’d gone on to serve in some branch of law enforcement, purposely putting themselves in danger.

After her sister, Meghan, had died, she simply couldn’t deal with it anymore and she’d journeyed as far away as she could. Away from her family and the danger that surrounded them daily.

Caley enjoyed her work. Enjoyed the people. Rescuing, rehabilitating and releasing sea turtles. Making them healthy. Educating the public. They had more volunteers this year than last. But the grant and donations rarely strayed from her mind.

Moving out into knee-deep water, she walked parallel with the shore. Seaweed, like mermaid’s hair, fanned and raked across the water.

She even loved seaweed.

Wait.

Caley removed her glasses and used her worn-thin gray T-shirt to clear the spots of water, then looked again. Inching closer, her lungs turned to iron.

Dark hair. Not seaweed.

Her stomach convulsed, threatening to bring up her dinner.

Two more feet and the refreshing water chilled her bones, raising gooseflesh on her skin; a strangled scream erupted from her burning throat.

Mary Beth Whaling, a student here in the college intern program, floated listlessly in the tide. Eyes wide open. Skin translucent.

No. No.

She trembled as she checked for a pulse, knowing it would be absent. How did this happen? When did this happen? Why?

Fumbling for her cell phone in her back pocket, Caley glanced up and saw a kayak floating about ten yards out. She dialed 911. She and Mary Beth had just spoken at lunch. She’d mentioned going to bed early tonight and starting a new romance novel. One of the many things they had in common. Of all the female interns—of all twelve interns total—Mary Beth was her favorite. She reminded Caley so much of herself at nineteen. Just seven years ago.

Sirens wailed in the distance as she stayed on the line with dispatch.

The police and ambulance would be here any second.

What was Mary Beth doing out here alone? She never swam without a second person.

Unless she hadn’t been by herself.

But why would someone leave her here without notifying authorities or the center if an accident had taken place?

Was it an accident?

A stream of questions bombarded her mind as she continued to stand by Mary Beth. Caley wouldn’t leave her, wouldn’t let the tide draw her out.

As blue-and-red lights flashed, a couple of faculty members still working at the center made their way to her along with other interns from the dormitory next door. Shock, tears, horror etched their faces, mirroring Caley’s feelings.

Billy Reynolds, the young man Mary Beth had been dating, flew toward her, but the officers held him back.

“Mary Beth!” he hollered, voice cracking. “What happened? Caley, what’s happened?”

Caley’s chest constricted. She had no answers.

A large, bald man—by choice it appeared and not by age—squatted next to Caley. “Come on. Let the first responders do their jobs. I have questions.”

So did Caley. She dropped Mary Beth’s cold hand and let the officer on the scene lead her farther up the beach, away from the onlookers. “I’m Officer Wilborn.”

“Caley Flynn. I work for the Arnold Simms Center. Just down that way.”

He looked toward the center and nodded. “How did you know the girl?”

Caley rubbed her forearms. “She’s part of the intern program. We take twelve each year. From all over the United States. She’s from Oregon.” Her parents needed to know. “I have to call her folks.”

“We’ll get to that. Do you know why she’d be out here this time of night and alone?”

Mary Beth was wearing her racing-back swimsuit. The one she kayaked in. “I can’t believe that she was. Her younger brother died in their pool when no one was home and she promised her parents afterward she’d never go in the water alone.” Why did she change her mind?

Officer Wilborn continued to pepper her with questions she had no answers to, then left her to ask questions among the interns.

Dr. Leonard Fines, her mentor and the director of the center, sidled up next to her, draping his lanky arm around her shoulders. “I overheard some talk. Looks like she drowned. The kayak belongs to the center. They pulled it in five minutes ago.”

Caley leaned into her mentor. “I was responsible for these students. How am I going to face her parents?”

“I can make the call.”

Caley shook her head. “No, I’ll do it. Then I need to go through her things. I don’t want her parents to have that burden, as well.” Watching Mom and Dad go through Meghan’s room had been devastating. “I can’t believe she’d be out here at night on the water.” The unsettling feeling wouldn’t shake.

“Well, she was.” Leo was only a few years older than Caley’s father; of course he was less rigid than Dad. But then Dad had been navy. Her whole family was military and law enforcement.

“You sure you don’t want me to call the Whalings?” Dr. Fines asked.

“No,” Caley said, “I knew her best.” Or she thought she did. She trudged up the beach and into her office right outside the research lab. After a prayer for wisdom, she called Mary Beth’s parents. She knew exactly how they’d respond. The same way her parents had when they found out Meghan had died.

After she hung up with the Whalings, she cracked open a can of peach tea and forced some down her dry throat. She had no explanation for why Mary Beth had been out on the water alone. Neither had her parents. No way the medical examiner or law enforcement would give her any information, since she wasn’t on the case or next of kin. But... She grabbed her cell phone and called her big brother.

Wilder answered on the second ring. “Caley? Everything okay? It’s late there.”

“I need a favor.”

Rustling sounded over the line and a muffled thank-you. “Okay. What kind of favor? You sound upset. Are you hurt?”

Heartbroken. She relayed the events that had transpired. “I need someone to help me find out the truth.”

“The truth sounds like she went out alone and a tragic accident occurred, kiddo. Let the police do their job.”

Caley balled her fist. “Wilder, you always talk about your gut instinct and how it’s usually right. Well, my gut says this wasn’t an accident. Something isn’t right. Can you just...just call and talk to someone?” Wilder knew people in law enforcement all over the world. He worked with them often in conjunction with his private security company, Covenant Crisis Management. “Please,” she choked out.

The sound of a deep inhale traveled across the line. “I’m in Dubai. Escorting someone of importance to a conference or I’d come out there myself.”

“I don’t need you to come out. I want you to make a phone call. Get me some information. I’m going crazy.” Caley scooted her peach tea aside, removed her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. “How often do I ask you for anything?”

“Counting Christmases?”

“Wilder, be serious,” she huffed.

“Do you really think there’s foul play?”

“I don’t know but I have a sick feeling. Mary Beth was a sweetheart. And if she was out there by herself, she had a solid reason.” Caley owed it to Mary Beth and Mary Beth’s parents to get to the truth.

“Okay. I know a homicide detective who works for the Turtle Bay police. Tom Kensington. Former marine. He’s a good dude, and he owes me a favor. I’ll call him and see what I can find out.”

“Thank you, Wilder. I owe you.”

“You can pay up by not nosing around on your own. If it’s not an accident, then I don’t want you in the line of fire. Understand?” Wilder’s gruff command barked loud and clear.

“You know I won’t.” This wasn’t her line of expertise. She steered clear of purposely risking her life, unlike Wilder and his team of soldiers. Caley hadn’t inherited that gene. Or she’d buried it. Either way. “You’ll call me as soon as you hear, right?”

“You know I will, kiddo.” Wilder’s voice softened. “I love you. Hang tight and...I’m very sorry.”

That was the big brother she adored. Tough exterior, gooey middle. She missed him. “I kinda wish you were able to come out. I’m...scared.”

A sigh filtered through the line. “I wish I could too, darlin’, but I’m a phone call away, okay?”

“Okay,” she whispered. “Love you.” She hung up and closed her eyes. God, why did this have to happen? Caley didn’t expect an answer. She never knew why these things happened. Never got an answer to why Meghan had to die the way she did. But her heart wouldn’t let her stop praying, even if most of the time it felt one-sided.

She eyed her desk. Paperwork had mounted. She worked on some of it, her mind wandering. Giving up, she spent an hour organizing her office, but to no avail. Finally, she finished off her tea—Mama would pitch a fit if she knew she was drinking canned sweet tea—and headed for the aquarium. Open to the public on weekdays, this was one of her favorite places in the center. As she entered the room, the hum of the air-conditioning kicked on, the air filters in the tanks bubbled and a prickle ran up her spine.

Caley shivered.

The sense of being watched rippled across her neck. She turned to the windows. Nothing but the faint light from the small motel-turned-dormitory next door.

She backed her way to the main doors, turned to make sure they were locked, only to scream at the sight of a looming figure pressed against the tinted glass.

* * *

Shepherd Lightman ground his teeth and reined in his temper as he peered into the center’s doors. He’d been in a heavy sleep—the first one in two months, thanks to one assignment after another. Twiddling his thumbs would typically be the death of him, but he’d been ready for this vacation. Flown into Tampa for some deep-sea fishing, then leaving for a sweet cruise to the West Indies in two days. Vacation. A word Wilder Flynn, his best bud and boss, didn’t seem to understand.

You’re less than thirty minutes from her. You’ll be back in bed before the sun is up, dude. Promise.

Shep better be, and he was the closest to Caley Flynn. Twenty-nine minutes away to be exact. As if he hadn’t thought about her being near enough to swing by and see for a minute. But he’d never have done it in a million years. Nope. He wasn’t going near Turtle Girl unless he was instructed.

She was Wilder’s baby sister for one. And for two, she was sweeter than Alabama tea and way out of his league. He might only have six years on her in age, but he had a lifetime in experiences he wished he’d never had. He couldn’t help that. Couldn’t help the way his gut tightened every time he saw her wide blue eyes. Her black-as-night hair on summer-bronzed skin.

But he’d been instructed. And here he was.

“It’s me, Caley.” Even now, skittish as a jackrabbit, she was a sight to behold. “Shepherd Lightman. I work with your brother at Covenant Crisis Management.” He’d been with Wilder since he opened the agency. Been around Caley many times when she visited, but why would she remember a nobody like him?

Big round eyes narrowed and she unlocked the glass doors. “I know who you are, Shepherd. I just didn’t expect you to be nose to the glass at my center.” She let him inside. “Why are you here?”

“Orders.” Just check on her, Shep. Humor her. She’s scared. She’s never seen a corpse. Not anywhere but a casket. It won’t be pretty. I’ll make a few calls to Tom, get the real deal. Just sit with her until her mind is put at ease and she knows this was an accident. She’s freaking clean out.

“From your brother.” He glanced around the aquarium. He’d never been here before. Huge photos of turtles lined the walls with information about each species underneath. Several tanks filled the room. Turtles inside each one. Smelled like fish to him.

Caley locked the doors and folded her arms, staring.

He stared back, panic creeping into his bones. Did she want...a hug or something? Oooh nooo. He wasn’t the comforting type. He could take down a dude from about two thousand yards with a sniper’s rifle, but “there theres” weren’t his thing. “I’m really sorry about what happened tonight. You’ll get through it.”

Caley blinked, tilted her head.

“It’s not easy seeing what you saw. Nightmares are normal.”

Her pouty mouth dropped open.

“I’m not good at this.” Heat flushed his neck and he shifted his weight. Yeah, he was closer distance-wise, but making people feel at ease wasn’t his thing. Wilder should have sent Jody. She was a female. And Caley and Wilder’s cousin. Had lots of words. Too many for his taste, but still. Shep was the worst at words. Worst at mushy-mush. He ground his jaw and sucked it up. “You need some physical contact?” Say no.

Caley’s eyebrows shot north at lightning speed. “Physical contact?”

“You know a hug or pat or something?” He stood like a dummy, not even knowing what to do with his hands—hands skilled at war, inexperienced at comfort—so he jammed them in his cargo shorts’ pockets.

“A hug? Or pat?” She crinkled her nose as if she’d gotten a whiff of a rotten odor.

“Or something,” he muttered.

Caley slowly shook her head. “No. I don’t need a hug or pat from you. I could use information, though. Like how did you get here so fast?”

“I was in Tampa.”

“Wilder said he was making some calls. Did he change his mind and put boots on the ground? Are you going to the medical examiner’s office for answers instead?”

Turtle Girl was an arsenal of questions.

She eyed his torso and neck. “You can stand down, soldier.”

Shep hadn’t realized he’d been tensed. But being around Caley Flynn made him nervous. He relaxed his shoulders. “He’s still making calls to our contact at the police department and the medical examiner’s office.”

“So why did he send you?” she asked.

“To make sure you remain calm.”

She snickered.

Why was that so funny?

“So offering some physical contact is your way of doing it?” A slender dark eyebrow rose.

Heat flushed his cheeks. “Well...no. Just seemed... I don’t know, like, maybe you needed it, but it appears you’re okay and don’t.” The woman sent his tongue into a knot. “Wilder said you were scared.” And wished he was there. But he couldn’t be. So he’d sent Shep. The last person she seemed to want here.

She slipped her bottom lip in her mouth. “I’m okay, Shepherd.” She didn’t seem 100 percent. “I was on my way next door to the dormitory to pack up Mary Beth’s belongings.”

“The vic?”

“The intern who died. My intern.” She pursed her lips and headed for the doors, mumbling something about her brother being a dope.

“Sorry.” He followed her, catching a hint of something fruity. She was like a ballerina, the kind that popped out of jewelry boxes. All slender and dainty. Her voice even sounded like a music box melody. He’d know. One of his many foster moms kept a box like that on her dresser. She also kept cash inside. Taking that cash had sent him straight back to the group home until another family thought they could love him into being a healthy boy, or until the government money for keeping him in their care wasn’t worth it anymore. No one had wanted him.

“So that’s why he didn’t send Jody? You were thirty minutes away?”

He snorted. Nope, Caley Flynn didn’t want him. “All you got is me, Little Flynn. Sorry to disappoint.”

She frowned. “As you can see, I’m fine. If you want to get back to your work in Tampa, you can.”

“It was a vacation.”

“Oh. Well, now I’m sorry.” She pushed open the door and waited for him to exit, then she locked it. “What are you doing there? Partying it up on the strip?” No contempt in her question. Neutral. But clearly his past preceded him.

“Nope.” He hadn’t lived that kind of lifestyle since he gave his life to Jesus in Afghanistan. But no one seemed to notice that. Just what he’d done beforehand.

“So what are you doing then?”

“Chartering a boat to deep-sea fish. Then boarding a cruise liner for the West Indies.” He followed her across the parking lot into the sand. His shoes were going to be filled with it. “Was this a motel?” The soft pink stucco building was rectangular with palm trees flanking the double glass doors.

“Yep. The center purchased it several years ago and converted it.”

“You live here?”

“Me? No. I live a few miles away. Little bungalow on the beach.”