“In good weather.” Kellen flung her arm toward the window where the wind slid its sly fingers under the aged sill and rain slashed at the glass. “Have you even looked beyond the tip of your conceited little nose at what’s happening out there? This storm is the remnant of a typhoon. No intelligent person sails in this weather! What did you think, that you, the mighty Mara, could command the elements to let Max handle a tiny vessel in seventy-mile-an-hour winds? In seas so violent the boat disappeared three times beneath the surf and the last sight I had of them, Max was bailing? Not managing the boat, the motor, the rudder—but bailing?” Kellen closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, realized she was dizzy, ready to fall over. She opened her eyes, swayed, fought to stay on her feet—and noticed her rain gear was gone. Mara had stripped away her plastic poncho, and Kellen was damp. Damp all over, damp all the way down to her underwear.

Damn Mara Philippi.

Kellen plucked a hair off her long-sleeved T-shirt. And another. And another. And realized—all down the front of her clothes, she had a fine coating of red-and-blond dog hair.

Luna. Since Olympia had left, no one vacuumed, and Luna’s hair was everywhere, on every floor, every surface. Now Kellen wore it… When Max and Kellen took Rae to the beach, they had locked the dog in the house.

Where was Luna? Had Mara killed their dog?

What did you do with her? The question hovered on the tip of Kellen’s tongue.

At that moment, from the depths of the house, Luna barked.

Kellen jumped.

Mara jumped harder. She got to her feet, looked around fearfully. “Did you hear that?”

Was she kidding? Acting? If she was, she was doing a good job of it—she was sweating.

Mara’s questions gave Kellen time to think, to consider her accusation. Was Luna in hiding?

The dog barked again.

“You heard that, didn’t you?” Mara took a step closer to Kellen, not as a threat, but as if seeking protection.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Kellen said glibly.

“It was a dog. There’s a dog in the house.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Kellen insisted. “Anyway, what difference does it make? You aren’t afraid of dogs, are you?”

“The prison dogs…” Mara’s breathing deepened. “They were vicious. They didn’t care who I was. If I didn’t do what they wanted, they attacked.” She pressed her hand to her thigh as if remembering an old wound.

“You couldn’t bribe them?”

Mara’s head snapped around. “Are you laughing at me?”

Kellen was, but she pretended not to understand. “Most dogs you can bribe with treats.”