The Lake

Then Sheena appeared. Wet from her swim.

“Save it, honey,” she told Mattie, not taking her eyes off Mace. “He’s mine.”

Droplets pooled around her naked feet. She glowered at the back of his head.

Mace stiffened, his hands dropping a little, poised for action.

Sheena was ready.

“Jack off, Mace,” she snarled. “Or should that be Jess?”

Mace froze.

Then his shoulders and hands relaxed.

“Sister Tania,” he said quietly. “We meet at last.”

He swiveled around and stared, a bemused smile tilting his lips. Taking in the long black hair, sleek and wet, dripping over her shoulders. The tawny skin gleaming in the shadows…

She was like a warrior queen, risen from the sea. Dressed in black: Apache-style band around her head, Guns N’ Roses T-shirt clinging to her body. Her breasts and nipples standing proud beneath.

His eyes played around her breasts, then dropped to the tight leather shorts showing a couple of inches below her top.

“Seen enough, punk?”

He didn’t reply. His eyes still traveled over her. They were hungry. Taking in the shiny, well-muscled arms. The long shapely legs, planted firmly apart.

A slow smile curved his lips. He shook his head as if to say “Well, whaddya know…”

“So it’s Tania,” he drawled. “After all these years.”

Her eyes leveled with his. Daring him to move.

“Time to turn in ya stripes, Mace,” she said softly.

Slowly, her hand reached back, easing up her T-shirt, feeling for the knife in its holster. It rested warm and hard against her damp leather shorts.

“C’mon now, sis. This is your brother here. Don’t wanta harm your own kin now, do ya?”

Suddenly, his arm went up and Sheena was staring at a 9mm Sig. Sidestepping neatly, she brought up her knife. Whirled it through the air. It landed, quivering, in his biceps.

Blood spurted a little, then slowly, steadily, pumped down his arm.

His face darkened. He made a grab at the wound. The knife shook a little but still held. The Sig hit the floor with a clunk, and Sheena lunged forward, forcing his arm back and down.

Mace snarled. She snatched back her knife.

“My move, punk,” she said with a brief smile, wiping the blade across his shirtfront. She leapt back, crouching, weaving from side to side, tracing circles in the air with her blade.

Spying his chance, avoiding the knife, Mace bounded forward, throwing a sideways kick at her face. He missed.

Then aimed a karate chop to her throat.

Sheena danced away, still crouching, knife in hand, arms outstretched, still weaving from side to side.

Mace saw red.

“I’ll get ya, bitch!” he spat out, his eyes bulging.

He aimed and missed again, his arm slicing through thin air.

Mattie closed in, clips at the ready, edging her way around the hole, while Sheena went for Mace with her knife. Looking wildly from one to the other, he tripped and lost his footing.

Leigh gasped, “Oh my God!”

The hole. The one Charlie went through.

They watched Mace go, in a cloud of dust and splinters, his legs swinging around in the deep black void, his hands scrabbling, grasping at the soft rotted wood.

They heard him whimper, then gasp out, “Help me help me… help…”

Fascinated, they watched the wood crumble and break away in chunks as he grabbed it. Then he dropped, screaming into the dark below.

A final bloodcurdling shriek and a dull squishy thud told them when Mace hit the deck.

Dust motes danced from the gaping hole, caught in a shaft of the dying sun.

They stared at each other in silence.

Then Mattie’s gaze dropped to the floor.

She saw the Sig and picked it up.

“Mmmm. Nice piece,” she murmured, tucking it into her belt.

SEVENTY-SIX

“Mom!”

“Yes, honey. We’re back.”

Leigh didn’t want to believe her ears.

“Er… How was Boulder?” she asked faintly. “And Aunt Abby, of course.”

Drinking black coffee in the living room, Deana and Mattie perked up.

“Fine, dear. Boulder’s hot and Abby’s taking her beta blockers. But I have to tell you, honey, it’s wonderful to be home again!”

“Sure, Mom. Dad okay?”

Jack West broke in. “I’m fine—and how’s that granddaughter of ours? She been behaving herself?”

“Sure, Dad. Deana’s okay, and she’s right here. Want a word?”

Leigh caught Deana’s eye, jiggled the phone at her, and mouthed, “It’s Pops. You wanta say hello?” Deana nodded, made a face at Mattie, and walked over to Leigh. She took the phone.

“Hi, Pops. How ya doin? Aunt Abby better?”

“She sure is, darlin’. But, like your gran says, we’re real glad to be home. So, what’s my favorite granddaughter been doing all summer?”

“Well, er… Oh, just messin’ around.”

“Just messin’ around, huh? When your gran and I are unpacked and showered, we’ll be right over, then we can have a nice long chat. So don’t go rushing off, young lady. Like you did at my birthday dinner!”

“Okay, Pops. I’ll be here…”

The doorbell jangled.

Mattie raised her brows. Deana and Leigh exchanged glances. Leigh’s heart sank. How could she ever explain to Mom and Dad all that had happened since they went away to Boulder?

With a resigned sigh, Leigh went down the hallway and opened the door.

“Oh… Hi, guys!” Her voice picked up a notch when she saw Warren, Sheena, and Sabre on the stoop. Warren was holding a couple of books.

“It’s so good to see you both again!” Leigh was saying in a relieved voice. Warren stepped inside, and Sheena followed. Sabre trotted behind.

When they were all in the living room, Warren told Deana, “I brought the books you asked for. Elmore Leonard for you, and Dylan Thomas for Leigh. Maybe you’ll get a chance to read them now.”

Deana threw him a wink. “Nice timing, Warren,” she said. “Gran and Pops are back from Boulder and they’re due here any minute.”

They arrived a half hour later.

Deana made for the kitchen to heat up the coffee.

Warren followed.