22. Rowan

"And it didn't even work."

Rowan's lips twitched. "It did work, but the end result was not ideal."

Leaning on the bookstore counter as she read through receipts, Annabeth's gaze lifted to him sitting on the small settee in the rear of the shop.

"Not ideal?" Her button nose scrunched. "Really?"

"Not bad, but not ideal."

The shop bell jingled, and a woman stepped in, ending their conversation.

"Hello, Lisa."

Annabeth knew every customer by name, and if they were a tourist, she made sure to jot down their information to send postcards throughout the year. Nothing over the top, but enough to form relationships that returned in the form of repeat business. People across the country would order books from her, remembering their time at the quirky little bookshop on the beach.

This one looked well put together, with perfectly styled short blonde hair and a picture-perfect smile. Rowan figured her for a year-round Firewater resident.

"Is it here?" Lisa asked.

"I made sure we were here when the delivery truck arrived." Annabeth popped below the counter and dug out a thick hardcover. "Isn't it beautiful?"

Rowan watched the two women fawn over the book, releasing oohs and aahs as they marveled at some etchings on the front.

"Thank you so much for thinking of me. This book completes the collection," Lisa said as she paid. "You'll have to come by and see my library once it's finished. Wayne is having a ladder installed and everything."

The excitement in Annabeth dimmed. Not enough for the woman to pick up on the change, but Rowan did.

"Maybe one day," Annabeth replied. "Are you coming to the party tonight?"

"Oh, yes, and I love what you've done out front."

"Well, I had a little help hanging the spiderwebs." Annabeth placed the book in a canvas bag. "My friend Rowan comes in handy sometimes."

Lisa glanced over at him, and Rowan gave a wave, realizing he probably looked like a giant sitting on doll furniture.

"Friend?" Lisa pressed her lips together and turned back to Annabeth. "Honey, that man back there does not belong in the friendzone."

Rowan liked this Lisa person. "Enjoy the book," he said as she left, the bell jingling once more on her exit. When his gaze returned to Annabeth, she was smirking at him. "What?"

"Stop flirting with my customers."

"Hey, I'm a selling point for the store. You did say I look like a book boyfriend?" Rowan wiggled his eyebrows at her. "Isn't that what you called me?"

A blush tinged her cheeks, the victory his. "I did say that."

Being alone at the shop with her was proving to be damn difficult, thus why he resigned himself to sitting on the small couch to watch from a distance as she hurried around the place in her thin white crop top and high-waisted black slacks.

And suspenders. Who knew suspenders would do it for him?

"What else needs to be done?"

Adjusting the small butterfly clip in her hair—a whimsical touch to her girl boss attire—she powered down the register. "I think that's it."

With the shop closed on Mondays, there had been no need to come in yesterday, which worked well for Rowan. When the police arrived at Sinclair's location, the man was gone, but they did manage to capture two Zanmi members hiding in the building. Both long-time followers of Tobias Miller, the men had a track record for stalking the family previously but had never been caught.

And Rowan discovered why late yesterday afternoon when he took a deep dive into the men's backgrounds. "One of them is an ex-Port Michaelson cop," he'd told Liam. "He left the force about a year after Toby's arrest."

Digging further, they learned the man not only hung around his old work buddies, but also visited the station regularly. His social media accounts took them down a rabbit hole of revelations, exposing how vulnerable they actually were.

"I passed this guy on my way inside the house this morning. He's over on the side lawn as we speak," Rowan had said as he showed Liam the photos plastered on the guy's personal account. "Here's another of two cops who worked Jamison's kidnapping. They're all friends with him. Hollingsdale PD made the arrests last night, but I have a feeling if it had been Port Michaelson arriving first, we would have walked away completely empty-handed."

Liam had not taken the news well and called a retired Port Michaelson detective named Frank Mathis. After they spoke, the Port Michaelson detail was politely asked to leave.

They didn't tell Ben until the cops were gone, and he lost his temper as expected. "Have Klausen increase his people and get more of ours here. Pull everyone we have that isn't already assigned."

A feat easier said than done. With Liam not having had much time to hire more than a handful of people when he took over at Fairweather, they didn't have many options. Klausen and members of his team wouldn't return for a few days, leaving them in a vulnerable position for tonight.

At least Izzy and Holden had arrived. Liam immediately sent Holden to Samuel's house, while Izzy was to remain at Haven, much to Jamison's annoyance. She was still pissed over what went down on the lawn, and Izzy's presence only added fuel to the fire.

"I have an idea, and I want you to think about it before you say no." Rowan stood from the couch and nodded at the window facing the gulf behind Annabeth. "Take a walk with me on the beach."

It was a bold request, but he wanted to see if she felt secure enough with him to try. They had hardly been alone together since Sunday, and while he was still trying to figure out how to proceed, he thought a walk on the beach might be a good start. The Firewater event was set to start around sunset, and with the cooler air and businesses around the square closing early, there weren't many people hanging out on the sand.

Her shoulders sagged. "I can't get past the dunes before I panic."

"What if I carry you?"

"What do you mean, carry me?"

Rowan grinned. He was winning her over. He could feel it. "Like on my back, and if you start to panic, I'll turn around."

She chewed on her bottom lip, staring at the wooden counter. The very one he had secretly built. When the store was finally coming together, and she couldn't find the type of counter she wanted, Rowan had done what any other man stupidly in love with his best friend would have done. He snuck around to find out exactly what she wanted, created the thing using his own two hands, and then claimed to have discovered it in a store.

Not insane at all.

His brother was the only one who knew the truth and constantly gave him shit for it. Speaking of which, he needed to call his family and let them know he would be out of pocket for a while. Last night, he decided it was time they switched all communications to burners. Phones, laptops, everything had to be new and refreshed constantly.

"Come on." He pouted, and it earned him a smile. "Just try."

"Okay, but if I pull your hair because I get scared—"

"I'll say thank you, please do it again, but then turn us around to go back."

Grabbing the shop keys from the drawer under the register, she rolled her eyes with a smile. "Let's go."

They drew the shades and shut off the lights. Since Annabeth's place wasn't one of the hosting venues, all they needed to worry about had been some outside decorations.

"The spiderwebs might not hold up with this wind," he said as she locked the door. "But at least we have the severed head."

"I don't want to know where you got that."

"The storage cottage. I found a mask to wear tonight, too."

Pocketing her keys, she stared up at him. "How are we going to do this?"

Damn his height.

"Um, here." Rowan dragged over one of the chairs she kept on the shop's outdoor covered patio. "Get on this."

Taking her hand, he helped her stand on the chair and then hoisted her onto his back. She weighed next to nothing, and Rowan adjusted his hold to make her comfortable. "Ready?"

She tugged his hair. "Giddy up."

With her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, Rowan walked the length of the bookshop's porch. Reaching the end of the building, he took the rear steps leading to a worn path in the sand cutting through the dunes.

"Where did you get this?" she asked, tracing a finger over the four-leaf clover tattoo on his neck.

"I went out drinking with my brother and sister, and we ended up getting matching tats on our necks in three different shades of green. Killian's is dark green and on the left. Mine is on the right in emerald, and Cait's is bright green and on the back of her neck."

"Do the position and colors mean anything?"

"Killian's tattoo is on the left to signify his leadership role within our family. Left to lead is how our grandfather phrased it when we were kids. The oldest is always left to lead, and it's true," he explained. "Mine is on the right, as in second born and the right-hand man to support Killian's decisions."

Annabeth propped her chin on his shoulder. "What about your sister?"

"Cait's is in the center because she has to be the center of attention."

The colors also held significance. Dark green—almost black—for Killian's unforgiving heart, while the neutral shade of green chosen for his own was to represent the way he balanced his family obligations. The vibrant green of Cait's clover symbolized her adventurous spirit.

"I think I would like your sister," Annabeth said. "And keep talking. It helps distract me."

Pausing at the start of the dune line, Rowan thought for a minute. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I don't know." A cold gust hit, and she buried her face in his back. "Tell me about Liam and Jamison. Was the lawn thing really that bad?"

Jamison had demanded to see the footage, and just as Liam said, nothing could be seen. Nothing much. You could definitely tell what was happening by the expression on her face and the motion of Liam's arm.

"No, but she wants revenge, doesn't she?"

Since the incident, Jamison had taken to prancing around the house in shorts that barely covered her ass. Liam was beyond stressed and having that in his face constantly wasn't helping.

Annabeth huffed. "He deserves it, and like I said, it didn't even work."

They hadn't told the girls or Simone about the Port Michaelson cops. "It gained us some information."

Rowan started through the dunes, and when Annabeth didn't tell him to stop, he continued talking. "But I think Liam listening to that phone call on repeat is starting to get to him. He keeps focusing on the comments Sinclair made about Jamison."

"Which ones?"

"About her not being honest, but the one that really bugs him is when Sinclair says something about a coffee shop." He slowed his pace, not wanting to rush. "He says that it almost sounds like Sinclair is reliving a moment. That he's too specific."

Annabeth placed her face next to his. "You don't think Jamison has met this guy before, do you?"

"If she has, wouldn't this all make a little more sense?" Rowan swung his head around and tried not to think about how close his lips were to hers. "I agree with Liam. Sinclair's involvement with Zanmi is batshit, given his record. But if he had met Jamison at some point and became crazy obsessed with her, it all sounds a little more believable."

Annabeth's fingers dug into his shoulder muscles as they neared the edge of the dunes. "What does Jamison say?"

Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut, but there was no going back. "Liam hasn't said anything to her yet. If Sinclair calls or contacts her somehow, he doesn't want Jamison to get caught up in her anger and accidentally reveal any theories we're working on. And yes, it sucks, but I understand. She isn't exactly a rational person when she gets upset and can let the most insane things fly out of her mouth."

"That's not fair."

"Uh, she told Sinclair she was going to rip his dick off and beat him with it."

Annabeth made a noise like a snort. "What's wrong with that?"

"I like a woman with attitude, but you're scaring me."

They arrived at the end of the path, and he stopped, letting her have time to adjust. She started to make him nervous when she rested her chin on his back and let out a sigh.

"Why haven't I done this before?" She tapped him with a single finger. "Let me down."

Setting her gently on the sand, he gripped her hand. "Good?"

Taking the landscape in, Annabeth inhaled and exhaled.

Once.

Twice.

"Good."

On this side of the dunes, the sand gave the appearance of freshly fallen snow, and with the midday sun shining brightly overhead, the new highlights in Annabeth's hair framed her face. Another victory, she'd gone to a hairdresser last month to have her hair professionally done for the first time. It had been a whole event with her mother and brother coming along for support.

Before she could say no, he pulled the burner phone from his pocket and snapped a photo of her smiling at the horizon. "Beautiful."

"Oh my God." She shaded the screen with her hand to see the picture. "I'm a mess."

"My beautiful mess."

Thunder rolled around in the distance, and she frowned at the clouds coming in. "We have about ten minutes."

Being a Texas native, bizarre shifts in weather were no big deal. But here, the entire area could go from tornado activity to perfectly sunny and peaceful in under a second.

"Come on." Annabeth tugged his hand. "I want to see how far I can go before it rains."

Toeing off their shoes and socks, they took a few steps, leaving the coarser sand around the dunes to bury their feet in the powder white.

"Oh, I forgot it squeaked!" Annabeth halted abruptly, jamming her foot deeper into the sand.

Rowan had never thought about it. "I guess it does."

"I remember this." Annabeth's bottom lip quivered as she stared down at her wiggling toes. "I remember him."

"Who?"

She didn't answer, only stared at the sand. Beginning to get concerned, Rowan debated on what to do. Did he grab her and haul ass to the bookshop or give whatever was happening here a chance to blow over?

"Rowan?"

Ah, crap. She was crying.

"I'm here."

"I can remember him." Her chest pumped as she regulated her breathing. "I never can, but that silly squeak reminded me of when we visited the beach. We flew kites, and… and…" Gulping for air, she let out a strangled laugh. "Samuel chased Evie with a crab, and it got caught in her hair."

The words were racing out of her, and Rowan's concern grew. "Annabeth, tell me you're okay."

"We stayed until sunset." Lost in her memories, she couldn't hear him. The past rising to meet her right here among the dunes. "Abe stomped on the sandcastle CeCe and I made, but my dad… my dad rebuilt the whole thing." Hysterically laughing, she stomped her foot, creating a rapid succession of squeaks. "Sand is nothing but a bunch of combined minerals, but not this stuff. Feel it!"

She kicked a batch at him, the white splashing against his black pants. "It's quartz! White sand like this is unique because it's ninety-nine percent quartz. My dad taught me that." Choking on tears springing forth from somewhere deep and broken inside her, she nodded at the gulf waters ahead, her excited shouts dropping to a whisper. "My dad taught me that. I-I remember."

Afraid he might have pushed her too far, Rowan placed a finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him. "It's time to go back."

"No, not yet." Straightening her shoulders, she regained her composure. "We're going to the water."

Clouds crawled overhead. Dark and ominous, they swept low in the sky, threatening to let loose. "The rain is coming."

"So?" Marching ahead, she pulled him with her. "No lightning, no problem."

He let her lead, the heart in his chest bursting with pride as she bravely closed the distance between them and the water. With each step, a new sense of hope grew, until they were standing where the low waves lapped at the shore. The smile on his face matched hers, both of them a little out of breath and flushed from the rush.

"It's too calm for it to be a serious storm."

They stood holding hands while the other beachgoers departed, and he glanced down at her. "What do you mean?"

"If it were going to be bad, the gulf would be restless, and the waves higher," she explained. "Those small little bumps in the water aren't real waves."

"Did your dad teach you that, too?"

She shook her head. "Selah surfs sometimes. I've heard he's not good at it like Samuel and Liam, but he's okay enough to give me some pointers when I added learning to surf to my list. Like what to watch for in the weather and how to use the different shifts in the wind to your advantage."

He had yet to see this infamous list. A tally of all the things she wanted to experience. God help her if he ever got his hands on it. "You know, I surf and can keep up with Samuel. Sometimes when we're both at the Houston offices and need to let loose after a shitty day, we would head down to the coast," he said. "But that was before he got married. Now he doesn't have time for it. The man cannot stand to be away from Evie and their girls."

"Samuel is handling this whole thing with Zanmi better than I thought he would."

Samuel wasn't handling shit. And Rowan wasn't taking the demands coming out of his mouth lightly. He counted Samuel as a friend. A good one. But what he wanted… money could only buy so much silence, and even then, there was no guarantee.

Yet standing here with a happy Annabeth, taking things to the extreme didn't seem so far-fetched. She might not be under a direct threat, but getting caught in the crosshairs was a possibility, and Rowan couldn't chance it. He couldn't lose her.

As long as Toby was alive, the risk would remain. They would never stop. Zanmi. After reviewing all the data accumulated by the FBI, and analyzing everything Liam already knew, the hard truth was that these people were no longer in control of themselves.

At least the Bureau of Prisons agreed to place Toby in solitary until his transfer to ADX, with the only visitors allowed being either family—not happening—or his lawyer. But even with the move to ADX, it would never end.

Lying awake last night, Rowan made his decision after thinking the whole thing through. He would do as Samuel wanted and place the call to Killian. His brother would choose to become involved or not, but if he agreed, that would be it. Samuel would get what he wanted. The Fairweathers often skirted the law but were nothing compared to the McIntyres. His family's reach and connections stretched deep into the underbelly of business, far into a world that not even Ben Fairweather would enter.

The gulf shot a stream of wind across the beach, and Rowan squinted against the sting of sand flying into his eyes. "Maybe you can be my new surfing buddy."

"Let's go in the water." Annabeth's toes curled in the sand. "Now. I want to go now."

"Ma'am," he drawled in a serious tone. "We are in our clothes."

"So?" She bumped her hip against his thigh. "It's not like you don't own another set of black pants and a black T-shirt."

She had a point. "But it's cold."

"So?"

"And we have to get back to the house."

"So?"

They were grinning like two absolute idiots, and Rowan couldn't ever recall feeling as he did now. Never in his life had he been so perfectly at peace. Even with all the shit happening, this moment would stay with him.

"Have it your way."

Swooping down, he tossed her over his shoulder and stomped into the waves. Annabeth squealed and laughed hard enough to shake her entire body.

"Not too deep. I don't want to drown."

The water was cold as fuck, and he stopped when it reached mid-shin level on him. "Here you go."

Sliding her down his body, he dropped her to stand. She whooped at the first touch of the icy salt water, holding his forearms as she danced and shivered in place.

"Maybe this wasn't a great idea?"

He chuckled at her discomfort. "You think?"

"Don't laugh! The water is freaking cold, and we don't have any towels. When we get out that wind will freeze our wet parts."

Another blast of air whooshed past, and the clouds churning around them transformed the once blue sky into shades of purple. Rain would arrive any second, making them drenched from head to toe.

"The sand will help our feet," he said, trying not to let his teeth chatter. "It'll create a protective layer as we walk back.

Annabeth ceased her cold dance. "I think he would have liked you."

"Who?"

"My dad." She came closer, her hands sliding to his biceps. "He was a scientist. Well, a science teacher. He always wanted to learn and share what he knew with others." Her eyes grew distant like they had in the squeaky sand. "I've blocked out so much after that night, and it's hard to recall exact memories, but I think he would have liked you."

Rowan didn't know what to say. She never discussed the night her father died, only telling him of the nightmares where she relived the whole thing. Curiosity had gotten the better of him once, and he unearthed the police reports, reading how Devon Howard's body had fallen on his daughter, trapping her face down in the mud. Notes from the responding medical teams remarked on the curled state of her hands and the amount of dirt caked under her nails from when she had tried to crawl to safety.

"Rowan?" She licked her lips, adorably nervous. "Will you kiss me?"

A shot of electricity tingled through his nervous system, and he would have sworn lightning had struck him where he stood. This was it. No more walls. No more barriers.

"Once this starts, there's no stopping," he told her, surprised at how calm he sounded. The level of adrenaline currently pumping through him equated to the time he jumped out of an airplane and the chute malfunctioned for a hot second. "Do you understand?"

She smiled, dazzling him right down to his very soul. "I understand."

Bending slightly, he cupped the back of her head, and standing in the water, freezing their asses off with a storm threatening above, Rowan McIntyre kissed Annabeth Howard for the first time.

And it was glorious.

Telling himself to go slow, he allowed her to take the lead, and his girl did not disappoint. Bringing her hands to his jaw, she parted her lips, letting him explore with his tongue.

But at the first exquisite taste, the control Rowan thought he held snapped like a twig, and he snatched her to him with a growl. Water splashed, soaking them more, but who the hell cared? He was kissing Annabeth, her body warm and perfect against his.

She moaned as the kiss continued, and he committed it to memory, the sound sealing her fate as if it weren't already decided. "Mine," he whispered. "You're mine, woman."

Hooking an arm low around her thighs, he hoisted her up, and when she wrapped her legs around his waist, their lips crashed together again. Never would he be able to extinguish this fiery need. Never in a hundred thousand years would she ever be able to give enough of herself to where he wouldn't forever fall to his knees and beg for more.

The rain made its entrance, first in droplets and then in sheets falling over the beach. With Annabeth anchored around him, Rowan ended the kiss to trudge to the sand and jog his way back as the downpour increased. He bypassed their shoes laying haphazardly at the base of the dunes. The storm would only last a minute, and they could grab them once it passed.

Under the bookshop's awning, he lowered her to stand and shook the water out of his hair. God, she was fucking cute when she giggled.

"So," he said, casually as if his whole life hadn't just changed. "What were we talking about?"

"Surfing, I think?"

Taking the bottom of his shirt, he twisted it to wring the water out. "Want me to teach you how?"

Annabeth's gaze dipped low, taking in the flash of his stomach. As if hypnotized, she nodded absently. "Oh, yes. Please."

To have her look at him like that was a sure fire way to get sidetracked, and they needed to return soon. "Once you get a feel for it, we can go down to my old haunt at Surfside and get some good practice in."

"Surfside?"

"It's west of Galveston. The beach isn't as nice as the one here, but the waves are better and an ideal place to learn."

He could see it. As the words crossed his lips, he could actually see the spell cast by their kiss crumble into dust. Texas. Why would he say that? She couldn't go into a Texaco gas station, let alone Texas.

Not yet, at least. Hope would always remain. Even if she regressed and they spent their lives locked inside Haven House, his faith in her would never waver.

"Galveston?" Hugging herself from the cold, Annabeth turned away to sit on a patio chair. The wet strands of her hair dripped onto the planked flooring. The plop, plop, plop, filling the silence. "As in Texas?"

"Uh, yeah." The burner phone rang in his pocket. The only person who had the number was Liam, and Rowan held up a finger as he answered. "What's up?"

"Shit. Fan. Here. Now."

The call disconnected, and he sighed. "We need to get back."

He had driven Simone's Miata to the shop, unsure of how Annabeth would handle his bike. Riding with the top down was out of the question in the rain, so he guessed squeezing in was his only choice.

"Everything okay?"

"The message was shit… fan… here… now," he said. "It could be either a new Zanmi problem or Jamison wagging her ass in his face again."

And there it was. Her smile. Relief loosened the tightness in his lungs, allowing him to breathe. He had meant what he said. There was no going back. What happened out there was the end of their old ways and the start of something new.

"It's probably Jamison," she guessed.

Popping up from the chair, she headed to the rear of the porch, her curvaceous hips swaying as she walked. That ass was a work of art, and if Annabeth ever wore shorts as tiny as what Jamison was running around in, Rowan would lose his mind. No wonder Liam had gone into crazy dickhead mode.

"We need our shoes," she said over her shoulder. "Those are my good black flats, and I'm not leaving them behind."

"I'll grab them."

"How about we race?"

Rowan stopped short. "You think you can do it?"

A look of determination settled on her beautiful face, and she nodded. "Today is a good day, and I can do anything on good days."