“Wait!” she called urgently.
He turned back, scanning her quickly with his blue-gray eyes.
“Who's after you?” she said, though she thought she knew.
His voice was crisp, his words concise. “Two guys who look like linebackers for the New York Giants.”
Cassie nodded, feeling the thump of her heart accelerate. But her voice was still calm. “Their names are Jordan and Logan Bainbridge.”
“It figures.”
“You've heard of them?”
“No. But it figures they'd be named something like that.”
Cassie almost laughed. She liked the way he looked, so windblown and alert, scarcely out of breath even though he'd been running hard. And she liked the daredevil sparkle in his eyes and the way he joked even though he was in trouble.
“Raj and I could take them, but they've got a couple of friends with them,” he said, turning again. Walking backward, he added, “You'd better go the other way-you don't want to run into them. And it would be nice if you could pretend you hadn't seen me.”
“Wait!” cried Cassie.
Whatever was going on wasn't her business… but she found herself speaking without hesitation. There
was something about this guy; something that made her want to help him.
“That way's a dead end-around the headland you'll run into rocks. You'll be trapped.”
“But the other way's too straight. I'd still be in sight when they got here. They weren't far behind me.”
Cassie's thoughts were flying, and then suddenly she knew. “Hide in the boat.”
“What?”
“In the boat. In the powerboat. On the dock.” She gestured at it. “You can get in the cabin and they won't see you.”
His eyes followed hers, but he shook his head. “I'd really be trapped if they found me there. And Raj doesn't like to swim.”
“They won't find you,” Cassie said. “They won't go near it. I'll tell them you went down the beach that way.”
He stared at her, the smile dying out of his eyes. “You don't understand,” he said quietly. “Those guys are trouble.”
“I don't care,” Cassie said, and she almost pushed him toward the dock. Hurry, hurry, hurry, something in her brain was urging. Her shyness had vanished. All that mattered was that he got out of sight. “What are they going to do to me, beat me up? I'm an innocent bystander,” she said.
“But-“
“Oh, please. Don't argue. Just do it!”
He stared at her one last instant, then turned, slapping his thigh for the dog. “C'mon, boy!” He ran down the dock and jumped easily into the powerboat, disappearing as he ducked into the cabin. The dog followed him in one powerful spring and barked.
Sh! thought Cassie. The two in the boat were hidden now, but if anyone went up the dock, they would be plainly visible. She hooked the loop of frayed rope over the top of the last pier, screening off the dock.
Then she cast a frantic glance around and headed for the water, splashing in. Bending down, she dug up a handful of wet sand and shells. She let the water wash the sand out of the loose cage of her fingers and held on to the two or three small shells that remained. She reached for another handful.
She heard shouting from the dunes.
I'm gathering shells, I'm only gathering shells, she thought. I don't need to look up yet. I'm not concerned.
“Hey!”
Cassie looked up.
There were four of them, and the two in front were Portia's brothers. Jordan was the one on the debate team and Logan was the one in the Pistol Club. Or was it the other way around?
“Hey, did you see a guy come running this way?” Jordan asked. They were looking in all directions, excited like dogs on a scent, and suddenly another line of poetry came to Cassie.
Four lean hounds crouched low and smiling. Except that these guys weren't lean; they were brawny and sweaty. And out of breath, Cassie noticed, vaguely contemptuous.
“It's Portia's friend-Cathy,” said Logan. “Hey, Cathy, did a guy just go running down here?”
Cassie walked toward him slowly, her fists full of shells. Her heart was knocking against her ribs so hard she was sure they could see it, and her tongue was frozen.
“Can't you talk? What're you doing here?”
Mutely, Cassie held out her hands, opening them.
They exchanged glances and snorts, and Cassie realized how she must look to these college-age guys-a slight girl with unremarkable brown hair and ordinary blue eyes. Just a little high-school ditz from California whose idea of a good time was picking up worthless shells.
“Did you see somebody go past here?” Jordan said, impatient but slow, as if she might be hard of hearing.
Dry-mouthed, Cassie nodded, and looked down the beach toward the headland. Jordan was wearing an open windbreaker over his T-shirt, which seemed odd in such warm weather. What was even odder was the bulge beneath it, but when he turned, Cassie saw the glint of metal.
A gun!
Jordan must be the one in the Pistol Club, she thought irrelevantly.
Now that she saw something really to be scared about, she found her voice again and said huskily, “A guy and a dog went that way a few minutes ago.”
“We've got him! He'll be stuck on the rocks!” Logan said. He and the two guys Cassie didn't know started down the beach, but Jordan turned back to Cassie.
“Are you sure?”
Startled, she looked up at him. Why was he asking? She deliberately widened her eyes and tried to look as childish and stupid as possible. “Yes…”
“Because it's important.” And suddenly he was holding her wrist. Cassie looked down at it in amazement, her shells scattering, too surprised at being grabbed to say anything. “It's very important,” Jordan said, and she could feel the tension running through his body, could smell the acridity of his sweat. A wave of revulsion swept through her, and she struggled to keep her face blank and wide-eyed. She was afraid he was going to pull her up against him, but he just twisted her wrist.