CHAPTER ONE
Time was short.
And Paco was missing.
The storm system of the decade bore down on the Washington coast, and Remi Grant was right in its path on a beach battered by waves during what was projected to be a dramatic king tide.
Oh, she knew better. But...
"Paco! Where are you?" She doubted her shouts could be heard over the breakers lashing the shore, crashing into the rocks.
The expected heavy rain hadn't started yet, but the wind remained cold, constant, and strong.
Sea stacks dotted the beach, and a rocky outcropping blocked her path as the tide rushed in, rising too quickly for comfort.
The only way around was to wait for the breakers to subside. Another wave crashed against the formation, then slinked back beneath the next one rolling in, building momentum.
Now!
She rushed around the mass of rocks, her efforts slowed by wet sand packed with rocks, barnacles, and shells. Beach Safety 101—never turn your back on the waves. But Remi did just that as she ran toward the bluff while simultaneously watching her steps along the rock-studded beach. Twisting her ankle or falling could be a death sentence.
Behind her, the roar of the sea resounded, filling her with fear. The ocean was closing in on her, and the beach would be gone in minutes.
The Pacific wouldn't take her today. Not if she had anything to do with it.
She made it to the dry beach—what was left of it—and that's when she heard the smallest of cries. Given the thunderous waves echoing against the cliff, she was surprised she'd heard anything else. Heavy sea spray doused her, but she expected no less from the approaching ferocious monster.
Heart pounding, she moved along the cliff, searching for the small pooch.
He must be frozen in terror. Remi had to find him in time, for both their sakes.
She always expected the unexpected. And while she waited for the unexpected, she planned everything to the last detail. She'd prepared for the storm system of the decade, but she hadn't expected a guest from Texas to lose their lapdog on a dangerous beach as the storm moved in, eventually bringing mammoth twenty-foot-or-more waves.
"Paco! Come on, boy. Where are you?"
In response, she heard nothing but the angry surf, best enjoyed from a distance during a storm, which was just the setting her lodge on the bluff provided. She couldn't return without the Yorkshire terrier. Remi shouldn't be on the beach now—no one should—but here she was, headed north and away from the safety of the lodge.
Where could he be?
He probably would have hunkered as far away from the encroaching Pacific Ocean as he could get. She hurried along the cliff, looking into the crevices and around small piles of rocks and tumbles of driftwood. In this mess, she might never find him.
"Paco! Where are you?" Could he even hear her? If he did, would he trust a stranger with his fate? "Come on, boy..." she mumbled to herself.
Concern for the small creature chased her, but she wouldn't entertain the strong possibility that he might already have been swept out to sea.
And there...
Huddled in the smallest of alcoves at the base of the cliff face, Paco shivered. Though time was running out, she approached slowly so he wouldn't feel more threatened. If the dog ran away from her, escaping her efforts, then she wouldn't have enough time to find and save him.
Salt water rushed toward her, reaching farther with each crashing breaker.
God, help me. I'm out of time.
