Chapter 1

Pulling into the first empty parking spot he could find,Derek Meredith cut off the engine of his car and doused his headlights.The night seemed to rush in,pressing against his windshield as if testing it for entry cracks.For a long moment he sat in the darkness,listening to the tick tick tickof his car’s cooling engine and,beyond that,the sea breeze that rustled the leaves on the palm trees surrounding the parking lot.Through his windshield he could see the ocean roiling below the cliffs like a dark beast uneasy in sleep.

Derek knew thatfeeling,all too well.

He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw the mission-style adobe dwelling behind him,the windows lit from within,a neon sign beaming the name of the bar into the night.Den of Thieves.For all the time he’d spent on the shore,he’d never been here before.Then again,he wasn’t the type to frequent bars—up until a few months ago,he’d been in a happy,satisfying relationship that kept him home nights with his lover,Tad Archer.A few months ago,he would have laughed if someone suggested he’d find himself in the parking lot of the Den of Thieves,about to meet a man he knew nothing of beyond a cryptic message on his voicemail.The passenger seat of his car,empty.The bed he used to share with Tad,just as bare.His heart,somehow still beating despite it all…

Thinking of Tad aggravated the wound.With a jerk,Derek tugged on the rearview mirror,and the warm,bright sign of the bar was replaced with his own dark,haunted eyes.They churned like the sea out there,torn up with painhe no longer allowed himself to feel.Tad was gone,he admonished silently—how many times did he have to remind himself of that little fact?Half his soul,his reason for breathing,had slipped beneath the waves one rough afternoon four months ago today and never reappeared.

In the rearview mirror,he studied his reflection,the smooth skin of his cheeks that looked stretched and pale in the darkness,the tight set of his thin lips,the faint lines around his pain-filled eyes and,above them,the shock of red roots beginning to grow beneath the black dye he’d used to smother his fiery hair.Like a thumb ground into a healing wound to reopen thepain,he forced himself to say the name out loud,“Tad.”

His heart pounded in his chest,his head ached.Tad is dead,he wanted to say,but his throat worked around the words,refusing to let them out,give them weight,make them real.

Pushing the mirror away from him,Derek yanked his keys from the ignition and opened his door to stagger out into the night.The cool sea air licked his hot face and ruffled his hair.The slam of the door was lost in the wind;turning up his collar,Derek set his back to the cliff and the sea below it and headed for the bar.

****

Inside,the Den was packed.As the door swung shut behind him,Derek peered through the crowd and wondered how he’d ever find a man he didn’t even know.Patrons lined the bar,jostling each other to catch the bartender’s attention;a row of booths stretched along the opposite wall,and a few wooden tables filled the center of the room.Everywhere Derek looked,people laughed and drank and called to each other over the pounding bass that poured from the sound system to beat against the walls.Derek recognized the tune of an old song,some hair band from the 80’s—here and there a few people sang along,their voices rising over the music.“I got the peaches,you got the cream.”

I can’t do this,he thought,one hand reaching for the door.He felt like a hole torn in the fabric of existence,an ugly bruise on otherwise flawless skin.It was too much,too soon,he shouldn’t even behere…

Then,despite the crowd,he felt someone watching him.

He glanced around,searching for a familiar face,and caught the bartender staring at him as if he were the only customer in the place and the man wanted to know what he’d drink.Tall and well-built,when he smiled at Derek,he showed way too many teeth.

No.With a shake of his head,Derek muttered to no one in particular,“I was just leaving.”

In his mind he moved toward the door,back out into the cool night,back to hisempty car and down the barren stretch of road until he reached his lonely apartment.He could picture the rest of his evening all too well—lying on the sofa because he couldn’t face the dark bedroom,silence so severe he might have gone deaf,time crawling by as he waited for sleep to claim him.Then the dreams would come,suffocating nightmares of the ocean,floating hair obscuring his vision,a hand stretched for him but just beyond his reach,Tad.A longing so poignant,an ache so real,he would cry in his sleep and only realize it later,when he woke with puffy eyes and clogged sinuses.

Unfortunately,his body didn’t get the message he wanted to leave.Instead of stopping at the door,he found himself propelled toward the bar.As he moved closer,a woman in front of him turned,grinned to someone behind him,then slid off her barstool to push past Derek.He helped himself to her seat and the bartender approached with an empty shot glass in one hand.Waving it away,Derek admitted,“I’m just here to meet someone.”

“Isn’t everyone?”the bartender countered.

Derek’s mouth twisted into a poor attempt at a smile.“I don’t mean like that.”

The bartender gave Derek a knowing grin and held out a hand.Derek found himself drawn into a firm handshake.“Welcome to the Den of Thieves.So who’re you meeting here?”

“I don’t know,”Derek admitted.From beneath the bar,the bartender retrieved a bottle of bright pink Raspberry Schnapps.With a shake of his head,Derek started,“No,really,I don’t—”

“One Undertow,”the barkeep said,speaking over Derek as if he’d ordered the drink.“Coming right up.This friend of yours…”

“I don’t know him.”