Chapter 4: The Difference

The dock door banged open and two flashlight beams swung across the slip.

I was already on the loft stairs.

My grandmother kept a brass ship's bell on a hook by the door, and a rope tied to its clapper that I had never once pulled.

I pulled it now.

It was loud enough to hear in the next county.

"Hey!" I screamed. "Get out of my house! I'm calling everyone!"

One of the men swore.

He was big, in a black hood, and he had a landing net on a long pole.

The other had a roll of strapping tape.

"Grab it," the first one said. "Before she wakes the whole dock."

"I've been awake for an hour," I said, which was a lie, and came down the stairs with the cast-iron skillet from my hot plate.

The bell kept ringing on its own, swinging.

Down in the slip the water bulged.

Lachlan came up in one smooth move, wet hair slicked back, and I saw what Garrick had paid for.

He was huge in the water.

His shoulders cleared the dock.

His eyes were dead calm, and when the net came down at him, he caught the pole in one hand and yanked.

The big man went off the dock face first.

He hit the slip with a slap and came up choking, and Lachlan had him by the back of the hood.

For one breath he held the man under.

I felt it in my stomach.

"Lachlan," I said. "Don't."

He looked at me.

The man thrashed, and Lachlan's hand stayed where it was, and his lips parted.

The hum started low in his chest.

It was the first time I'd heard it go past one note.

My knees went soft, and for half a second I wanted to step off the dock.

The water looked warm and kind.

"Lachlan," I said again, and it came out as a whisper.

He shut his mouth.

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