Sometimes, all that matters is being in the right place at the right time.
Rami knows the storm should have killed him. Very much alive, though slightly waterlogged, he can’t shake the feeling that he didn’t survive on his own merits. He had help.
When a person of interest in the legal matter he’s been hired to untangle reveals a strong resemblance to the man who may have saved his life, venturing into uncharted waters becomes the least of Rami’s problems.
A loner living in the shadow of a once-great house, Malcolm is a hard man to pin down. His seemingly impossible feats of heroism have certainly saved lives, but the people of Envern, Maine, are only too eager to allege he had something to do with his employer’s death. Leading a secretive existence under a cloud of suspicion should scupper Malcolm’s appeal, but Rami has secrets of his own and his relationship with danger has always been complicated.
|Publisher:||Totally Entwined Group Ltd|
|Sold by:||Barnes & Noble|
|File size:||923 KB|
About the Author
Helena Maeve has always been a globe trotter with a fondness for adventure, but only recently has she started putting to paper the many stories she's collected in her excursions. When she isn't writing erotic romance novels, she can usually be found in an airport or on a plane, furiously penning in her trusty little notebook.
Read an Excerpt
Copyright © Helena Maeve 2017. All Rights Reserved, Totally Entwined Group Limited, T/A Pride Publishing.
Between the sunlight warming his face, the briny scent of the sea and the squawking of gulls in the distance, Rami had to admit the afterlife wasn’t half bad. At least he thought that until a blunt object poked him in the shin.
“Think he’s dead.”
The poking happened again, more insistently this time, and a shadow fell over him.
“Hey, mister! Are you okay?”
A groan was the best Rami could do by way of answer, yet even that was enough to send the two diminutive, blurry figures above him scrambling back. He blinked and the blurs resolved into a pair of kids, beach-attired and rosy with too much sun. They were maybe twelve or thirteen years old, on the cusp of adolescence yet already making strides in pissing off the elderly.
Rami winced as one of them shoved a phone in his face.
“Sick!” The camera clicked. “That’s going on Instagram, dude!”
Under different circumstances, that would’ve bothered Rami.
There was nothing normal about waking up waterlogged and covered in kelp, sand sticking to the hand he dragged over his face. “Where… Where am I?”
“Are you a drunk?” one of the boys piped up. “My dad says—”
“Is this Envern?” Rami scrubbed the grit from his eyes. He blinked and found that he recognized the pier jutting out over the water. The beach bordered by lighthouses at both ends. Stoneway Island just a couple of miles off the coast.
This was Envern, he wasn’t dead, and the last thing he remembered was getting swept off by a roiling sea.
The kids traded dubious glances when he mentioned that last part.
“I’m not crazy,” Rami snapped, pushing to his feet. He staggered, clothes stiff with salt, and tried not to feel as though he was protesting a given. “There was a storm…”
“Sure,” said the kid with the cell phone. “But unless you’re an Olympic swimmer or something, there’s no freaking way you came back from that. Come on,” he told his friend. “I’m bored. Let’s get out of here.”
Rami watched them go. He had been in the water. He was certain of that much. And with that certitude, another rose from the depths of hazy recall. He remembered a man, dark hands wrapping around and under his arms, yanking him from the surf as though he weighed less than a feather.
His face hovered above Rami, indistinct but for the corona of lightning slashing the sky, limning him in blue-white incandescence.
“Who are you?” Rami murmured as the memory faded.
The current lapped at the shore and offered no answers.