Page 15 of The Scent of Salt & Sand

Melody motioned for him to follow her to the end of the row, where there was a glass door through which he could see a long utility hallway between the two cellblocks.

“They climbed up one of those iron drainage pipes to the roof.” She pressed her index finger against the glass. Her delicate hand made a stark contrast to the thick, rusted metal cluttering the narrow passageway. “Then they made their way to the dining hall and hospital wing, which is where they used a stovepipe to climb down to the water.” Melody’s voice faded softer and softer until he strained to hear her.

“Then what happened?”

She turned and lifted her chin toward the dingy windows lining the top of the cement wall. “No one knows for sure. The official word is they drowned.”

“Would you rather know they were out there, free?”

She shrugged.

Dean shook his head. His inner cop twitched with frustration. “Funny how people forget that they were locked up here because they were violent criminals.”

“The whole thing is just so…” She glanced back at the tiny cells. “Awful. So much more awful than I thought it’d be.” The depth of sadness in her voice surprised him.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes. No,” she whispered, her eyes awash in unshed tears. “Can we get out of here?”

“Of course.” This time he took the lead, wrapping Melody’s arm protectively through his and guiding her out of the building. Bathed in sunlight once again, she gulped in big breaths of sea air, rubbing her arms while staring out at the bay.

“Hey, what I said back there, it’s not that big of a deal. I get wanting to forget the bad and think everything turned out okay.”

She shook her head. “It’s not that. Didn’t you feel it?”

“It?”

“The sadness. The hatred. The horror of it all. I—I didn’t realize it would linger. No one told me. None of them—not one of my cousins. They didn’t say anything to me.” She sighed. “But I don’t know what I expected. It was a prison, and prisons are traps, with cages and rules and anger and loneliness,” she said, perilously close to tears. “I don’t like this place. At all.”

Dean wrapped his arms around her, drawing her carefully to him. “Yeah, I felt it.” She shuddered and his embrace tightened. “Would you like to leave?”

“Yes.” She nodded against his chest. “I’m sorry this is such a bad date.”

“Are you kidding? I’ve got you in my arms already, which means I’m having a great time!”

She leaned back and met his gaze. “Really?”

“Really. And I have the perfect way to make all of that”—he jerked his chin at the hulking building behind them—“all better.”

“How?”

“Pasta.”

She smiled tentatively. “You mean food.”

“I mean a very particular type of food. Italian. Pasta. With lots of bread and olive oil, garlic, and wine.”

Melody tilted her head back and Dean became lost in her eyes. So lost that he almost bent and covered those seductive lips with his own. He yearned to taste her—to touch more and more of her—and, surprisingly, to be sure she never looked as afraid and sad as she had just moments ago.

“Pasta is perfect.” She beamed.

Using every bit of his self-control, he stepped back, letting his arms slide from around her. “Then let’s go eat pasta and drink too much wine,” he said, lifting her palm to his lips.

Chapter Seven

Melody was sure her eyes would pop out of her head before she finished reading Pompeii’s Grotto’s expansive menu. She flipped through the pages and glanced up at Dean. The corners of his eyes creased with a warm grin. On the boat, she’d felt the need to protect him. It was so fierce she would’ve carried him overboard and swum to shore before leaving him there alone. She knew what the Sirens would do if given the chance. Dean would be their next victim. Their next meal. Her stomach churned.

Don’t let them have him.