Protector S.o.s.. Susan Kearney

R and to visit his friend, Ryker Stevens. So he was free to pick up and go. Not that his boss, Logan Kincaid, would mind. Family came first, and Ellie was Travis’s only family.

      Travis called the Shey Group headquarters to let his boss know he was unavailable until further notice, and to ask for a trace on the phone Sandy had used. He found out the call had come from a pay phone in the back of a bar in the early hours of the morning. But why would she do that when she had a perfectly good cell phone?

      Impatient for news, he called Sandy again just before his morning flight took off, and as soon as he landed at noon. He tried Ellie at home, at the marina and on her cell. No answer. Frantic, Travis rented a car and sped down the coast, cutting the two-hour drive to an hour and a half.

      Normally he would have called the hospital, the police department, Ellie’s other friends. But Sandy’s warning made him wait. However, if Sandy and Ellie weren’t at the Bayside Marina when he arrived, he would ask Kincaid and the Shey Group for help.

      Travis slid to a stop in the gravel parking lot of Bayside Marina. The newly painted sign, the trimmed landscaping and the new roof made the old place look more upscale. Ellie had told him about the retail store, but he hadn’t expected the parking lot to be so crowded. But it was Saturday afternoon, and tourists and locals alike would want to enjoy the summer sunshine.

      Travis bypassed the impressive new store and headed for the marina’s office. Striding along the dock, he automatically took in the changes. Sandy and Ellie had added two new fuel pumps and several rows of slips. They’d purchased a new forklift, and one of the operators was in the process of moving a boat from dry storage to the water.

      On a busy Saturday, Ellie was usually tuning up one of the boat engines. He and his sister shared an aptitude for all things mechanical, and he kept searching for her to pop up from an engine compartment, a smudge of grease on her cheek. But when he didn’t see Ellie anywhere, disappointment and worry slashed him. She wasn’t in the bait house, or directing traffic at the ramp, or at the tool shed.

      Travis headed directly to the office. The old mahogany door sported new gold-leaf lettering that read Vale & Cantrel Enterprises, with operating hours posted right next to a plastic sign that said Closed. Travis knocked anyway. The girls often used the Closed sign instead of Do Not Disturb, which everyone ignored. Besides, he could see Sandy through the glass, her head bent as she perused assorted paperwork.

      Sandy’s waist-length tresses were gone. Now, bright yellow sunglasses, worn above her forehead, held her shoulder-length blond locks out of her eyes, giving him a clear view of her face. Sandy wasn’t model pretty. Her mouth was a bit too full and her nose had a cute little bump where she’d broken it windsailing. Her flawless skin was sun-kissed and far too tan. Nevertheless, Sandy was the only woman he’d ever met who sizzled. She had this unexplainable electric energy to her that never failed to engage his senses—at full throttle. Long ago, the passion between them had been charged, but their arguments had been long, horrendous and ugly. Once, she’d been like a fancy-free flame that attracted him with her heat and brightness, but when he’d gotten too close, she hadn’t just scorched him, she’d burned him to the bone.

      Nothing short of fear for Ellie could have brought him back. Bracing for bad news, stiffening his defenses against Sandy’s magnificent eyes—they changed color like the sea, from sparkling turquoise when she was happy, to kelp-green when her temper raged, he strode into the office.

      A sixth sense must have told her he was at the door, because he’d no more than turned the knob before she’d shot out of her seat behind the desk and rushed to him, flung her arms around his neck and planted a kiss on his mouth. A kiss that sent his senses spinning. A kiss that made the intervening years disappear with magic. A kiss that overloaded his pleasure centers and stole his breath.

      Whoa. After eight years, this was not the reunion he’d imagined. No how. No way. Sandy might be one laid-back woman, but she could bear a grudge for a long time. After their last fight, he expected her to hold his words against him forever.

      She tasted of salt and sea air and a citrus fragrance that reminded him of spiced lemons. And she fit against him just the way he remembered. Automatically, he raised his arms around her. Their tongues tangled, and in another moment she was going to find out that she still made all the blood in his brain flow south. But she pulled back, her eyes a tempestuous green, and placed a finger over his lips.

      What the hell? She hadn’t spoken to him in years, then left a worrisome message on his voice mail, and now she didn’t want him to speak. Every brain cell cried out for him to ask about Ellie, but, as if reading his mind, Sandy shook her head.

      “You still good with engines, Travis?”

      Confused, his eyes narrowed. Sandy didn’t play games. She hadn’t placed a worried-crazy message on his voice mail without good reason. And from the tension in her shoulders to the tight grip of her hand on his arm, he knew something was wrong.

      “You called me—”

      “To fix a motor. Didn’t you say you needed a job?” Her eyes begged him to play along.

      Job? They hadn’t even spoken. What the hell was going on here?

      He shrugged to release the tension between his shoulder blades. “Yeah. I’m at loose ends right now. I could use some work, but I didn’t bring my tools.”

      Relief warmed the chill from her eyes. She grabbed a sweater from a hook by the door. “Tools I can lend you. Can you start today?”

      “Do I get time and a half?”

      “That depends how good you are.”

      “You know how good I am,” he bantered playfully, but if she didn’t explain soon, his teeth might crack from the way he was gnashing them. Accustomed to cloak-and-dagger stuff at work, Travis hadn’t expected to return home to a mystery.

      Years ago, when he’d been responsible for Ellie, he’d been in a relationship with Sandy. Many of their arguments had been over Ellie. Sandy had considered him too restrictive and over-the-top protective. She’d once told him that if he could have, he’d never have let Ellie out of the house, never mind on a date. But Ellie had enjoyed pushing him to the wall, dating bikers, surfers and all-around misfits. At first he’d been pleased when Sandy had taken Ellie under her wing, but then he’d realized Sandy had been encouraging his sister’s rebelliousness. After numerous heated arguments, he and Sandy had split up—but the girls had become fast friends.

      Travis had been none too pleased when Ellie and Sandy joined forces in business. He didn’t like the idea of his sister gallivanting all over the ocean with only one other woman. They were vulnerable, and obviously something bad had happened or Sandy wouldn’t have called him.

      “Come on.” Sandy led him through the office door onto the dock. “I’m in critical need of a top-notch mechanic.”

      “What—”

      “Give me a second.” She squeezed his hand so tight, the bones creaked. “The boat’s over here. The motor’s on the fritz.”

      “You want to clarify?”

      Sandy tugged the sunglasses from her forehead down over her eyes. “She’s overheating when kept below two knots. The owner has out-of-town guests and is impatient to take her out tomorrow.” Travis didn’t give a damn. He wanted to know about Ellie. But he held his tongue, grabbed a toolbox from the shed and acted as if he intended to fix the motor as Sandy led him to a day-sailer with an outboard on its transom.

      He half expected Sandy to tell him that Ellie had hooked up with some guy with a record. Or some loner who lived on a houseboat, collected disability checks and drank away his benefits. Ellie had always had a soft spot for those who were down and out. And she never thought of the danger she might be placing herself in. Every time Travis had tried to talk with her, she’d told him off.

      So he’d taught her to fight dirty. But she’d refused to learn to shoot a weapon or keep one aboard. Sandy hadn’t been any more reasonable. Both of them seemed to believe that