about what she was witnessing. Something was weird about this woman.
They repeated the process—wading back toward shore, facing the next wave, diving under it, turning around, and wading in some more—and soon they were in the ankle-deep shallows and the big set had passed.
“Thank you,” Ellie said breathlessly as she tugged her bathing suit back into place. “I . . . I’ve been unable to do that for such a long, long time. Thank you both so much.”
“You mean . . . play in the waves?” asked Maya.
Ellie nodded, grinning. Droplets glinted on her dark lashes. “Sort of like . . . getting back on a horse after a terrible riding accident. I’ve wanted to try again for so long, and—” She froze as a movement up on the beach caught her eye. Her face went ghost white. Her features turned rigid. She hurriedly waded out of the sea toward the beach.
“Ellie?” Maya called after her.
But when Ellie reached the hard sand, she started to run up the beach, her buttocks wobbling beneath her scrap of bikini.
Lozza shaded her eyes and peered up into the dunes to see what in the hell had spooked her.
A man.
He sat where Ellie had been seated earlier. Next to Lozza and Maya’s gear. Big man with blond hair that gleamed gold in the setting rays of the sun.
“Come,” she said quietly to Maya.
They caught up to Ellie. It was instinct driving Lozza now. Her cop impulses had linked Ellie’s bruises with Scary Man before her brain had even begun to articulate the thought.
“Martin,” Ellie said breathlessly as she reached the man. “I . . . I didn’t expect you back. What . . . what’s going on? Why’re you back so soon?”
“Cover yourself, Ellie,” Martin said quietly, holding out Ellie’s towel to her. Australian accent, but with a hint of Canadian.
A chill trickled down Lozza’s spine. Every molecule in her body snapped alert. She picked up her own towel and exchanged a look with Maya. Her daughter sensed it, too. She’d gone quiet as she gathered her towel and draped it around her skinny body.
Lozza cataloged the male quickly. A slight wave in his dense blond hair. Pale-blue eyes offset by tanned skin that was evenly toned and unlined. Strong face. Wide jaw. Built like a rugby player—bit on the thick side. Handsome bugger if one was into that look. He didn’t even look at Lozza. His gaze remained locked on Ellie. Wedged into the soft sand at his side were two stainless steel wine goblets and a small esky.
Shivering, Ellie took the towel from him and wrapped it around her shoulders. While the wind had picked up and the air had cooled—as it so often did just before sun slipped into the Tasman Sea—Ellie was not cold. She was shaking for some other reason. A hot and dangerous energy began to cook in Lozza’s chest. She felt her jaw tighten.
“G’day, mate,” Lozza said as she hooked her towel around her neck.
“Who’s your friend, Ellie?” Martin said without acknowledging Lozza.
Angry. Dangerous.
“This is Lozza,” she said very quietly. “She’s a cop.”
Martin’s gaze snapped to Lozza. He regarded her for a moment, his features inscrutable.
“Lozza, this is Martin,” Ellie said.
Martin smiled. His canines were pointed. It was the coldest smile Lozza had ever seen.
“Lozza Bianchi.” She held out her hand. Martin glanced at Lozza’s hand but did not take it.
“Martin Cresswell-Smith,” he said. “I’m Ellie’s husband.”
And there it was, some sort of battle line drawn in the soft Jarrawarra dune sand between Lozza the cop and this dangerous-looking man who Lozza realized must be the developer of the Agnes Basin project. She’d seen that name on the signs.
She noticed his ring. While Ellie was not wearing a wedding band, Martin sported what looked like a platinum ring inset with a bloodred stone. A ruby, if the fancy bronze Rolex on the man’s wrist was anything to go by.
Lozza lowered her rejected hand, and a sinister taste crawled up her throat. She glanced at Ellie. But Ellie turned away, no longer willing to meet Lozza’s eyes.
Terrified. Doesn’t want to displease her husband.
A soft, steady drum began in Lozza’s heart. This woman was not in a safe place. Wind shifted and gusted hard. Lozza could smell smoke from a distant wildfire.
“You okay, Ellie?” she asked.
“Yeah, yeah, fine.”
She still wouldn’t meet Lozza’s eyes.
Lozza lingered. The man watched her.
“Come, Maya,” she said quietly.
Martin and Ellie remained silent as they took their leave.
As Lozza and Maya made their way up through