Butterfly Cove. Christina Skye

to heat and flies. Afghanistan had taught him to stay focused in all situations.

      Off in the distance red lights burned through the rain and he made out the outline of an ambulance. About time. The kids were shaken up. Their teacher was holding it together, but Rafe had learned that she was a diabetic, and she didn’t have extra insulin with her. He had already called in that information to the EMT unit so they would have the meds she needed.

      Two more cars crawled past. A state police cruiser appeared. The window came down. “Looks like you could use some help here. I’ll park and take the other side.”

      “I’d be glad for it. I’ve had my hands full with the mudslide.” Rafe turned up his collar against the pelting rain. “At least the ambulance is here. I’ve got somebody in my cruiser with a dislocated shoulder. Possible concussion. She needs to be looked at first.”

      “I’ll pass that on.” The cruiser angled forward into a spot right behind Rafe’s vehicle.

      It was barely 5:15 p.m. on his first day with the Summer Island Police Force.

      He had dealt with two accidents. A mudslide. Crank call at the high school and a possible case of identity theft.

      It was one helluva homecoming, Rafe thought grimly. He remembered the sound of the collision. At first he’d been angry. Then he had realized the driver was very brave, choosing the only space left to avoid hitting the van full of stranded children.

      She’d kept the collision to minimum impact, despite zero visibility in the storm.

      But Rafe wouldn’t have expected anything less of Olivia Sullivan. She had always been smart, always been thoughtful and careful. She did the right thing, no matter what. You could count on that.

      A flood of other memories returned to haunt him. Rafe’s hands clenched. He didn’t figure well in most of those memories. They had been very close once. He had let her build up hopes that he couldn’t fulfill. In the end he had betrayed her.

      Rafe had lived with that guilt every day since.

      But now he had a job to do. He couldn’t allow Olivia’s warm breath or the soft, sweet pressure of her breasts against his shoulder to pull his mind away from all the things he had to do to stabilize the accident scene.

      He had screwed up more times than he could count growing up as the town bad boy. He had mocked authority, been a petty thief, played hooky from school as often as he could get away with it and broken more than a few store windows. After one brief season as a football hero, he had given up on sports, too. He didn’t care for the male bonding, the authority figures or the relentless schedule.

      Which was kind of funny, all things considered, because Rafe had joined the Marines as soon as he could, and that brought him right back to authority figures and relentless schedules.

      But the Marines had given him a home, a focus and a discipline in his life. He would still be over in Afghanistan had it not been for the broken arm and shattered wrist from a fuel explosion that had nearly killed him.

      When Tom Wilkinson, the county sheriff, had pitched him the offer of a job, Rafe had simply laughed. He was the last person anyone on Summer Island would expect to wear a uniform. But the sheriff had persisted, and he was a hard man to say no to. At one time, his son and Rafe had been good friends in high school. But Tom’s son had been killed in the Sangin Valley, and Tom looked pretty sick these days. Rafe hadn’t gotten all the details, but he gathered the diagnosis was inoperable, slow-growing cancer. Tom was signed up for experimental treatments in Portland, but he was getting weaker.

      So Rafe had agreed, even though it was the last thing he’d planned to say. Saying yes had brought him here, with traffic snarled around him on a blocked coast road in a driving rain. It had brought him straight into Olivia Sullivan’s path on his first day of work.

      The ambulance team jumped down and raced toward him. “Where’s the patient with the dislocated shoulder? Possible concussion, we were told.”

      “I called it in. She’s right there in the backseat of my cruiser. I think she’s unconscious. I used the Spaso technique to reduce the dislocation.”

      The two men moved toward the Jeep. “You knew how to do that? You see that kind of thing a lot here on Summer Island?”

      “No. I saw it a lot over in Shkin and Kandahar. The Marines give you good field medical training.”

      The man nodded. “Ex-Marine? Yeah, that would explain it. Nice job. We’ll take it from here.”

      Rafe took a step back as the men stabilized Olivia and lifted her onto a gurney.

      She was in good hands now. He told himself he could relax. He’d gotten pretty good dealing with bad traffic over in Afghanistan. At least he could assume that none of the locals were carrying pipe bombs or improvised explosive devices.

      As the ambulance faded into the rain, Rafe thought about what Olivia would say when she realized he was back, and whether he could make amends for what he had done to her.

      CHAPTER TWO

      OLIVIA CAME AWAKE to the sound of rain slapping against windshield wipers. A siren howled. Disoriented, she tried to sit up, only to feel straps holding her in as she jolted back and forth in some kind of truck.

      The restraints left her with a feeling of panic and she called out.

      “It’s okay, ma’am. You were in a car accident. You need to stay still. We don’t want any more stress on your shoulder until you can be seen by a surgeon.”

      Car accident.

      Shoulder.

      She remembered it all now. Mudslide. The storm. A minivan caught at the side of the road. “The children. Are they okay?” she said hoarsely.

      “A-okay. They’re upset, but their teacher did a great job. So did you, ma’am. From what the deputy said, you acted fast. Otherwise you would have plowed straight into them.”

      Olivia wasn’t so sure about how fast she had acted or whether it was the best choice. It had been all she could think of.

      Her shoulder throbbed, but it was nothing like the agony she had experienced back in her car.

      She remembered a man’s low voice. Strong arms had leaned close, locked her tight and gently rotated her arm until the joint popped into place. But there was something else...

      Olivia remembered those dark eyes. That hard face. He had changed since she saw him last. He was tougher and older and he had an air of command.

      But he was still Rafe Russo.

      “Did you say sheriff?”

      “Deputy sheriff. He assessed the trauma and relocated your shoulder. In fact, he did a fine job. I don’t think you’re going to need surgery.” The man looked up at the clock on the ambulance wall. “We just got notice of a six-car pileup. We’re going to drop you at the emergency care clinic in town. They’ll take care of you.”

      Olivia barely heard, lost in the past. What were the odds that she would have an accident—and Rafe Russo would respond? It was a crazy way to find him after twelve long years.

      An IV swung back and forth above her. They must have given her something for the pain. Drowsiness began to creep over her.

      “He looks like...Daniel Craig. Rafe, I mean. Always was too gorgeous for his own good. He could have any girl in town.” Olivia frowned. “And he probably did.” Her eyes closed.

      The woman in the uniform leaned down beside her and shone a light in her eyes. “No fixed pupils or signs of dilation. She’s stable. That deputy did a good job on her shoulder. And she is right about him. He does look a lot like Daniel Craig.”

      Olivia tried to answer, but instead she fell away into dreams...and restless memories.

      * * *

      HE