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“What about the boat that sank? I know what I saw.”
“You need to be more worried about the one headed in your direction that we need to deal with,” Dawson said. “Now, head home.”
She glanced over her shoulder. She couldn’t see anything but waves, rain, and lightning. She couldn’t hear anything but the howl of the wind. No boat chasing her. The only other vessel was the Coast Guard, less than a mile away now, and racing toward the open ocean. She let out a huge breath. “Heading in.” She hooked the mic to the handle and stared at the roller cresting at the top. It wasn’t just any crest, either. It was the kind of wave that movies were made about. “Well, crap.” She hit the throttle, spun the wheel, and braced for impact.
Princess Afloatpitched starboard as a twelve-foot swell crashed into the hull awkwardly. Gripping the steering wheel with one hand, she pushed the throttle down harder because speed was her friend right now. Rollers, she could handle. Waves that turned into surf machines, well, she couldn’t risk going sideways. Her boat was too small for that, and she’d surely capsize.
Riding the wave wasn’t smart, either. She needed to get in front of it. But the swells were coming closer and faster. She would have to make sure she stayed between the waves as much as she could. Or get on top of one and ride it downward before it crested. Not a fun drive.
A clap of thunder rattled the boat right before the evening sky lit up with five flashes of lightning. Usually, she loved a good lightning storm. That was when she was sitting on her front porch, watching the storm roll in from the comforts of home.
The wipers sloshed salty water across the windshield, but it did nothing to help with visibility. Flicking the spotlight on, she found the spot between the grouping of islands that led into Chokoloskee Bay from the north. She’d be protected from the massive waves once she was between the islands and the shoreline.
It was navigating through them, alone, in these conditions, that was the challenge.
She’d been a water baby her entire life. However, to most people of Calusa Cove, she was a spoiled rich girl with servants. It wasn’t a falsehood. She’d been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. She’d grown up eight miles from the center of town—in a mansion. The only one in the zip code.
Her mother had never worked a day in her life, and that included housecleaning and cooking. They had a staff for that. They had a staff for everything.
Audra McCain had once joked that she wouldn’t be surprised if Trinity had someone to wipe her ass. Trinity chuckled at the memory. Why did Audra, of all people, pop into her head at a time like this? She had no idea. She hadn’t heard of or seen Audra in sixteen years. She wondered what had happened to the localStigini. Poor girl had also gotten the short end of the stick when it came to this town. Lucky her for getting out and staying out.
Trinity had her reasons for coming back two years ago. No one in this town knew. They suspected, and some had the story half right.
A man had broken her heart. Crushed it. Tore it from her chest and utterly destroyed it. But that wasn’t the worst of it. He’d taken her dignity. Her self-worth. And he stripped her of her confidence.
But that was one of the best-kept secrets of Calusa Cove.
However, she had a better understanding of her mother now. However, she hadn’t wanted to bond with her mom because of it. There was too much pain over her own childhood. She hadn’t even told her mother she’d been pregnant. She’d told her father, and she didn’t blame him for what happened next. He’d done what any normal father would in that situation.
Hours after she’d miscarried, her mother had done the rarest thing. She’d called. She’d asked to visit and to comfort her in her time of need.
Her mom had come to Calusa Cove for an entire week. It had been the worst week of Trinity’s life. Not just because she’d ended a relationship with an abusive man, but because she’d lost something she hadn’t known she’d wanted.
A child.
Her mother had been a miserable woman, and everyone who had ever met her knew it. Her mom had packed her bags and left the second Trinity graduated from high school. The ink on her diploma hadn’t even had the chance to dry before her mom had been on that plane.
Her mother had hated everything about Calusa Cove, and up until a few years ago, so had Trinity. Now, Calusa Cove offered her a sanctuary from her past pains and an opportunity to be the person she’d always wanted to be.
Another clap of thunder rattled her brain. The boat vibrated, starting at her toes and landing between her temples.
More lightning lit up the night skies. She was thankful for the few seconds of brightness guiding her home.
But the waves tossed her cruiser around like a freaking dingy.
Silas had warned her—more like sneered at her—that a storm was brewing. She’d checked all the weather apps and had known the sea was ripe for a storm today. However, the open water gave her peace and tranquility, and after the lunacy of her mother’s call that morning, she sure as heck needed it.
Silas had pissed her off as well. Well, he and Dewey, the mangrove trimmer. Especially Dewey. He was always sitting down at the docks when he wasn’t working, staring at her, waiting for her to crash her shiny, expensive boat. He’d waggle his long, crooked finger at her, reminding her that she didn’t fit in and that she’d smash her boat one day.
There wasn’t a scratch on her baby because she was a darn good boat driver.
But people didn’t see her as Monty Stevenson’s daughter, the rising star who had left on a full-ride scholarship, started a medical-tech company, and then sold it for millions after he’d gotten burned out and realized he missed small-town life.
Nope. They saw her as Porsche Stevenson’s kid—the one who had brought sushi to school for lunch and, at one time, had been just like her mother.
As the islands came into view, the waves crashed into them with unrelenting force. She swallowed her pounding pulse. This had to be the worst she’d ever driven in, and frankly, she didn’t ever want to do it again.
Easing up on the throttle, she made her way between two stretches of land. It was known as the Ten Thousand Islands. A chain of islands and mangrove islets that stretched from Cape Romano to Lostmans River. This area could be treacherous on a sunny day because of oyster bars and shallow waters. A captain needed to understand the tides and the area.