Island of Glass
Page 10

Sasha heaved a sigh. “That’s cruel, Doyle.”
“Hey, I need my moment, too. You’ve toughened up, Blondie, but that was in Sawyer’s island sunshine. Let’s see how you handle fifty squats and push-ups in the rain.”
“I may have an alternative to that. If we’re finished here,” Bran continued, “I can show you all. And the stars as well. KP can wait a bit, I’d think.”
“It can wait for eternity in my world.”
“Your world is eternity,” Sawyer reminded Doyle, but took Annika’s hand and rose. “I vote for full house tour.”
“Let’s start at the top then.” When Bran rose, he held out a hand for Sasha’s. “I’ve a lot to show you.”
They trooped up the back stairs, followed Bran’s lead as he made a turn on the second-floor landing and veered up to the right.
“Access to the roof area,” he explained. “The views are spectacular from there, even on a wet day.”
He wasn’t wrong, Riley thought once Bran opened a thick arched door, and she stepped out into the rain.
The wide, flat area of the roof afforded a three-sixty view.
The angry chop of the steel-gray sea and its violent slap on rock and cliff. The thunder of it boomed and crashed below dense layers of clouds, sluggishly sailing in a brooding wind.
As she turned, she could see the faint shadows of hills curtained behind the gray mist of sky, and around to the forest, deep and shadowed and green. Beyond where she’d run the night before, she saw now a cottage or two, and fields dotted with sheep, the thin plumes of smoke from chimneys where hearths burned on a wet summer day.
“It’s a good situation.” Doyle spoke from behind her. “Even on a day like this, we could spot an attack from a half mile or more. And it’s high ground, with cover close.”
He moved over, looked down from the crenelated wall. “It’ll be useful.”
“I can smell the sea,” Annika murmured.
“And hear it,” Sawyer put in. “Taking a boat out on that’s going to be tricky.”
“I’ll score us a dive boat and the equipment,” Riley said absently. “We’ll handle it. Is that a graveyard? At about ten o’clock? How old do you figure . . .”
She remembered, belatedly. This had been Doyle’s family’s land. Cursing herself, she turned to him. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”
“The first would have been my great-grandmother, who died in 1582, in childbirth with her sixth child. So old enough. Though archaeologists usually want to dig deeper than that, don’t they?”
“Depends.”
“In any case,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “it’s a good, strategic situation.”
“And before we all drown in the rain, let me show you what else should be useful.”
As Bran led the way back in, Sasha rubbed a hand down Riley’s arm. When Riley mimed pointing a gun at her head, firing, Sasha shook her head, gave that arm a squeeze.
Then they both moved more quickly when they heard Annika’s shout of delight.
They followed the sound, made a turn, and came into a third-floor area spread under a half dozen skylights.
“Hot damn!” Riley didn’t do handsprings—as Annika did in front of the wall of mirrors that obviously delighted her—but she did rub her hands together.
The excellent home gym had bamboo floors the color of raw honey, a full circuit of machines. Two treadmills and a pair of elliptical machines faced the rain-splattered wall of windows, as did a recumbent bike. A TRX dominated one corner; a full-sized, glass-fronted refrigerator—already stocked with water and energy drinks—another.
It boasted weight benches, free weights, a rolled stack of yoga mats, kettlebells, medicine balls, balance balls.
“Oh, how I’ve missed you,” Riley said, and immediately plucked a ten-pound weight from the rack.
“Good enough, I’d think, for those calisthenics if the weather doesn’t cooperate.”
Doyle shrugged at Bran’s comment. “Battles happen in foul weather as much as fair. But . . . It’ll be useful. Hmm. Chin-up bar.”
“Oh, hell,” Sasha muttered, and made him smile.
“Why don’t you try it out, Blondie? Show us what you’ve got.”
“I’m still having my moment.”
“Tomorrow then. First light. I can work some circuits into the training, and the weights are welcome. But we run outside, rain or shine. A machine doesn’t give you the feel of the ground under your feet.”
“The walls are so shiny!” Annika executed a graceful and perfect handstand in front of the mirror. “I like to see how it looks.”
“So would I, if I looked like you.” After a few biceps curls, Riley replaced the weight. “Free to use anytime, Irish?”
“It’s yours as it’s mine.”
“Solid. I’m going to grab some gym time later. That’ll be my moment,” she told Sasha.
“It takes all kinds. I intend to set up my easel.”
“Speaking of easels, and paintings . . .” Riley turned to Bran.
“That’s next. I should tell you there’s a wet area through those doors.”
“Wet?” Annika said, coming neatly to her feet.
“A steam room, a Jacuzzi, a shower, and a changing area. I regret the lack of a pool.”