Chapter 4 - Shadows over the MarinaThe rain continued to beat against the loft glass throughout the night.
Clare couldn't sleep. She sat on the kitchen stool, staring out at the dark harbor where the shadows of yachts swayed under the storm lights. I stayed awake with her, sitting at the kitchen table, working on a wiring diagram while keeping a quiet watch.
There was an undeniable intensity between us that had nothing to do with her background or mine. In the quiet space of my home, stripped of her titles and expensive dresses, Clare was raw, intelligent, and fiercely resilient.
"Why are you helping me?" she asked softly around two in the morning. "You don't know me, Owen. I brought danger to your door."
I set my pen down and looked at her. "I pulled you out of the water, Clare. I don't leave things half-done."
She smiled faintly—a real, genuine smile that reached her eyes for the first time. "You're a very unusual man, Owen Mercer."
"Just a mechanic."
"No," she said softly, her gaze holding mine. "You're the only honest person I've met in three years."
At dawn, the storm cleared, leaving the sky a pale, icy blue over the harbor.
I went down to the workshop early to check the security locks. As I reached the front window, I saw a black luxury SUV parked across the street near the pier. The driver's side window was cracked, and a man in a dark suit was watching my building through pair of binoculars.
Graham's men had already started looking.
I walked back upstairs quickly. Clare was standing near the window, looking out at the water.
"We have a problem," I said quietly. "There's a scout parked outside."
Clare's face went pale. "He traced my car. He knows I didn't go to Providence."
"Listen to me," I said, placing my hands firmly on her shoulders. Her skin was soft, warm, and her heart was pounding under her ribs. "My shop has a rear outlet that opens directly onto the maintenance dock. My personal boat—a twenty-four-foot wooden cabin cruiser—is tied up back there. They don't know I own it."
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"Where would we go?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.
"My family has a small hunting cabin on an island three miles off the coast," I said, looking deeply into her eyes. "No roads. No internet. No Graham. We leave now."
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