“It’s California in the summer,” Jamie said. “We don’t have storms.”

“Remember that freak storm the year we got here? Some kind of late-season front came out of Siberia. A tree fell on our generator and the whole damned garden washed away. That’s when I knew that I—” Dylan stopped himself, as if even in his drunken stupor, he didn’t dare say how much he hated this place.

Yes, Jamie had him cornered here, and the only way he could slip away was to waste his life with drugs and alcohol.

“I’m set up in Paradise Cove.” At the far end of the island from the folks up at the big house. “I think I found Bill’s spot from last year. Protected from the weather, if there is any, by the boulders and that overhang?” She looked at Dylan for confirmation.

He nodded sagely. “Been there. Used to visit Bill there.”

She placed her hand briefly on his knee and stood. “That’s all, then. I’ll be off. I’ve got seaweed to inventory and peregrine eggs to count.” She needed to look like she was doing the work, and besides, with nothing else on the agenda, she might just do it.

Jamie followed her to the door. “Be careful. Three years ago, we had an intern get too close to the nest. The mother dove, talons out, and slashed him across the cheek. Just missed his eye. He got an infection and had to be medevaced out.”

Mara faced Jamie. “You can’t blame her. A mother will fight to the death for her chick.”

“You can depend on that,” Jamie said.

“Oh, I am.”

Jamie surveyed her husband, sprawled on the couch, smiling at his boner like it was a thing of beauty. When they met, he was all charm and ambition, telling her what she wanted to hear.

Liar. And loser. He was both of those, and a drunkard and wastrel to boot.

Yet if she wanted to stay here, she was stuck with him. The Di Lucas demanded a couple to care for the island, and justifiably. One person couldn’t handle the maintenance, although she did the majority of the work, and if one of them got hurt, the other would have to deal until help arrived.

She hoped if anything happened to her, Dylan would be sober enough to do just that.

“Are you going to tell the folks up at the big house that the intern has arrived?” She waited, hoping he wouldn’t say exactly what she anticipated.

“Why tell them anything?”

He never changed.

“Honey, come on over here.” He patted his lap. “Let’s…talk.”