Free EDGE by Tiffinie Helmer

waves.
    What the hell? She’d double checked them last night. All six of them had been secured under the pilings of the deck.
    She only counted five now.
    Damn it, ocean kayaks didn’t come cheap.
    Working as a team, they dragged and lashed the kayaks to the pilings far out of reach of the surf, and then turned their attention to pulling on the skiff line until the plane and boat floated farther out in deeper waters. They bobbed on top of the waves like toys in a jetted bathtub.
    “I’ll bring in vood,” Sergei said. “Do you vant more added to the rooms upstairs?”
    “Yes, but wait until the guests are up and moving about. I wouldn’t mind having you around to entertain them. Some of your Russian stories would go over well today.”
    “Always vith the Russian stories. Just because I am handsome and speak with accent you vant me telling stories.”
    “Well…yeah,” Mel said with a smile. Someday she hoped he’d tell her why he no longer lived in Mother Russia. His stories always bent toward intrigue when speaking of his homeland, but he never talked of returning.
    Suddenly Sergei jerked and ran back toward the kayaks, which were tumbling in the crashing waves.
    They’d just secured them. How…?
    There was no time for questions. It was a mad dash to save the kayaks before the greedy tide stole them. Waves tumbled against Mel, leaching salt water in her boots by the time they’d saved the kayaks from being pulled out to sea. Her feet were cold and wet, and it would take days to completely dry out her hip waders. She hated getting the insides of her boots wet.
    They dragged the kayaks up the beach again. The rope they’d used to tie them to the pilings lay on the sand sliced through by a knife.

    Mel rushed into the kitchen, throwing off her rain jacket. Even with the protective gear, her hair was wet and her bones cold.
    How had someone cut loose the kayaks, right under her and Sergei’s nose?
    She stopped short when she saw Cache sitting at the kitchen table. She’d done a fair job of avoiding him after the incident in the kitchen yesterday. She wouldn’t get away with that today.
    “Morning,” he greeted in a gravely voice that sent shivers of another sort over her skin.
    Could he have been the one who—?
    Get a grip. There was no way Cache could have cut free the kayaks, dragged them to the surf’s edge, and be sitting here dry and warm in the cabin. It had to be someone else. She could discount the Whitneys because of their age. Whoever had done it would have needed to move fast. Could Tom be malicious enough to cause this kind of mischief because he’d fallen overboard yesterday? He didn’t seem the type to get his hands dirty. Pay someone else, yes. Who would he hire out here to do his dirty work?
    Okay, she needed to stop this. Next she’d be blaming young Jonah.
    Sergei had promised to take a look around before bringing in the wood. If that didn’t reveal anything, he’d covertly peep into their guest’s rooms and see if he noticed bits of rope, sand, or wet shoes. He actually seemed eager over the prospect of playing spy.
    “Good morning,” Mel answered, realizing she’d taken too long to respond.
    Linnet handed her a steaming mug with a questioning look. Nicole was at the counter, a mixing bowl in the crook of her arm, wooden spoon holding still in her hand. Mel gratefully cradled her hands around the warm cup. “I hope you slept well,” she said to Cache.
    “As a matter of fact, it was one of the best nights I’ve had in months.” He paused. “Are you okay?”
    “I’m going to get into some dry clothes. Excuse me.” She set down the mug without taking a sip. Linnet’s worried frown wasn’t lost on her, but it was Cache’s curious stare that she felt boring into her back as she exited the room.

    A change of clothes hadn’t improved Mel’s mood.
    Breakfast was stuffed French toast, seafood crepes, Canadian bacon, and fresh berries with cream. The menu had grown a bit more