Page 1 of Pirates in Calusa Cove (Everglades Overwatch #2)

A YEAR AGO…

Trinity Stevenson stepped from behind the protective windshield. Her ponytail smacked her face. The wind howled, and the seas kicked up angrily as if Poseidon himself was about to emerge from the depths of the ocean floor, waving his trident.

This storm had collided with another system, changed direction, and came at her so fast she’d barely had a chance to get her bearings. What had started as a few hours alone to collect her thoughts, to decide if she would believe him—again—had turned into a death grip on her survival instincts.

She squinted, searching and scanning the wild waters for the green and red bow lights. Or the white of the stern light. There had been another boat out there. She’d seen it. And they were charging into the storm, being tossed around by the raging waves like a rag doll. She suspected the small fishing boat to be eighteen to twenty feet long. Way too small to be out here in these conditions. Heck, her forty-footer, while built for the ocean and to handle a good storm, struggled with waves this tall. But Trinity couldn’t, in good faith, just leave them out here to be swallowed by the sea gods.

Who was she kidding? She was about to be upside down if she didn’t point this vessel toward shore and head in soon. She blew out a puff of air, stared into the darkness, and waited for another flash from the heavens. All she needed was a few seconds of visibility. Something to give her a better gauge of where those red and green lights were bobbing up and down in the open waters.

Thankfully, those lights appeared through the wind, waves, and rain. It rolled down with a massive crest before turning up toward the sky. Once again, she squinted, focusing solely on the small vessel, which was struggling to stay afloat and quickly losing the battle.

She reached for the radio, glancing at the channel setting, which was already set to sixteen. “Pan-Pan, Pan-Pan, Pan-Pan. This is Princess Afloat .”

Pushing down on the throttles, she cut through the top of a massive wave. Quickly, she eased up on the power of the engines, allowing the boat’s bow to rise, before giving it more gas to cut through another wave. Salt water splashed across the windshield. It sloshed over the top of the cuddy and landed right on her head. She wiped her face with her forearm and repeated the maneuver, ensuring her boat didn’t go sideways.

“This is the US Coast Guard. What’s your situation, Princess Afloat ?”

She rattled off where she believed she was because she couldn’t take her eyes off the waves before her to check the exact coordinates. She knew these waters like she knew the back of her hand. She knew, within a quarter of a mile, how far offshore she was and in what direction. “There’s a boat in trouble about a mile and a half from my location… Oh my God. No.” The vessel in question pitched sideways with the wave and rolled. A bolt of lightning lit up the sky. A clap of thunder that sounded more like gunfire rattled her teeth.

A second clap echoed in the night.

Followed by a…flash? Or a spark.

She swallowed her pulse.

“Ma’am. Are you okay?”

“Um, yes. I think so,” she managed. “There’s a second boat. No lights, and the other one… It capsized, and it’s… Oh God, it’s sinking.”

“Ma’am. We’re four miles from your location. Flash your spotlight.”

She did as instructed.

“We can see you,” the man said. “Look to your port. You’ll see us.”

Bang!

“Oh my God.” She crouched behind the steering wheel but not too low. “The other boat fired a weapon,” she said as calmly as she could.

The vessel circled—danced—around where the white glow of a stern light disappeared into the dark ocean.

Pirates? This close to shore? While it was always possible to come across a pirate wanting to steal a boat’s navigational system and anything else of value in the open waters, she had never heard of one doing so this close to civilization. .

Bang! Bang!

They must have seen the signal between her and the Coast Guard.

“Ma’am, are you okay?”

“Oh, my God. That was gunfire,” she said into the mic. She sucked in a deep breath, staring at the white water being churned up by the boat heading right for her.

“Ma’am, can you maneuver and head toward the island barriers?” the gentleman on the other end asked. Another voice—a familiar one—muttered a few expletives in the background.

“Yes. I can do that.”

“Trinity, get your ass back to the docks, now,” Dawson, the new chief of police, said with real bite laced to his words.

“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 Afloat pitched 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 local Stigini . 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.

No matter what anyone said about her, she knew both, but that didn’t make this any less dangerous .

She made it through the first set of islands and eased back even more on the throttles, letting out a long sigh of relief. The waves had reduced to four to five feet, and she could see the inlet leading her to Mitchell's Marina.

Thank God.

No. Thank Poseidon.

But oh, she could hear the crap she was going to catch from Baily, the owner of the marina and now one of her best friends. That friendship was one of the best things about returning to Calusa Cove. She’d never really had girlfriends before. She’d thought she did, but they had all turned out to be rich, prissy snots.

Kind of like she used to be.

She narrowed her gaze as she pulled down the narrow channel toward the dock she rented. A couple of dozen people were lined up along it. Some wore appropriate rain gear, others made do with what was nearby, like garbage bags. Most people in Calusa Cove were dirt-poor, and the town's population, at last count, was four hundred and twenty-eight.

Silas waved his fist in her direction as he raced across the edge of the shore toward the docks with the new sexy Fish and Wildlife guy right on his heels.

Wonderful.

This was the last thing she needed. A lecture by one of Fletcher Dane’s friends and Silas, the resident grumpy old man, who occasionally had a heart of gold if you took the time to get to know him.

She spun the boat, pulling in backward, as she always did. Mainly to show off. To prove she was a master at the helm. It was childish—she knew it—but she wanted respect.

Few gave it to her.

Raindrops the size of mosquitoes pelted her eyes. As quickly as she could, she tossed the stern line to Silas.

Keaton Cole managed to snag the bowline before she could reach the front of her vessel.

“I warned you,” Silas said, taking her hand. “Why didn’t you come in sooner?”

“Because someone needed help,” she managed to say above the roar of the wind whipping and swirling through the marina. The palm trees bent over. “I tried to help, but I couldn’t get to them. Pirates did and, unfortunately, they sank.” She steadied her bare feet on the dock, holding her wedges in her other hand. “I radioed the Coast Guard. And before both of you lay into me, I already got barked at by Dawson and ordered back to the docks.”

“I'm not sure what to think of that man.” Silas shook his head. “You’re crazy, you know that? You had us all worried. I was sitting here enjoying a beer and watching those two systems collide, but there was no Trinity. I stood out there for over an hour while I watched that storm turn into a nightmare, and no Trinity. Waves like that will take even a boat your size.”

“I’m well aware of what the sea can do.” She blinked. “Are all the boats from this marina back? Do we have any idea who could’ve sunk out there?”

“You were the only one we’ve been waiting on,” Silas said.

She shifted her gaze toward Keaton, who had served in the Navy with Dawson Ridge, the new chief. “Why was Dawson with the Coast Guard?”

Keaton arched a brow. “He asked if he could because that’s what he does when one of his townspeople doesn’t come in and there were reports of pirates in the area.”

“Oh.” Wonderful. Here came another flipping lecture.

Keaton jerked his head toward the main building. “Let’s get you inside and warmed up. You looked like a drowned rat.”

“Gee, thanks. Just what a girl wants to hear.” She figured she had mascara running down her cheeks. Some habits died hard, and she was still a vain woman, even if she wasn’t trying to impress a man. At least not this man.

She had a man. It was a new relationship. They’d only been dating for two months, and she’d thought Fenton would be different.

Well, at first, he had been. And he didn’t bark at her like Keaton did.

While Fenton worked at one of her father’s many car dealerships, he didn’t see her for her bank account. Fenton made good money. Perhaps not the kind she’d been born and raised with, but enough to shower her with some very nice gifts.

Though not too many. He was a man who believed everyone should live within their means, which sometimes caused a few interesting discussions. She made good money as a data scientist, a career that allowed her to work from home and live anywhere. But again, old habits died hard, and she wasn’t about to give up the things she enjoyed.

Shoes, handbags, and designer clothes.

She no longer paid full price because that was just stupid. She didn’t have to have top-of-the-line everything. Nor did she have to have…everything. But yeah, she liked her BMW.

To say she lived within her means was a bit of a stretch. Daddy had bought her boat, so there was that. She understood this made it harder for her to get the one thing she wanted more than anything—respect from the people of Calusa Cove. She did want them to see her in a different light.

Fenton didn’t seem to care about her princess status or her father’s money. But earlier today, she’d picked up his cell and found a weird text on it. It was from someone named Al. Just Al. At first, she hadn’t thought anything of it, but when it had dinged in her hand and a second text came over that was sexual in nature, her heart had stopped.

Fenton had gotten defensive at first. But he’d softened, saying it was just some guy he knew, being a dick.