Danger in the Deep

by Karen Kirst

  “It wasn’t our time,” he said simply.

  “You believe God orchestrated our rescue.” The custodian, Mr. Ludwig, had come to the basement to retrieve paper towels and toilet paper. He’d seen the mess Brady had made by slipping papers under the door and come to investigate.

  “You don’t?”

  “I...I believe He’s in control. I’ve always taken comfort in that fact.”

  “But...”

  She crushed the damp tissue into a ball. “I don’t understand why this is happening, why He’s letting it happen. I especially don’t get why He’d allow you to be hurt, too.” The image of an unconscious Brady would be forever burned into her brain. “You shouldn’t be involved.”

  “Too late. I am involved.” A sigh rumbled through his chest. “I want to help you, Olivia.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to challenge him, to ask for a complete rundown of his motivations. She already knew the main reason... Derek. Was it the only reason? Did it matter?

  He was an experienced marine, a living, breathing warrior. He was trained in hand-to-hand combat, weaponry and extracting himself from dicey situations.

  Olivia would be a fool to send him away again.

  SEVEN

  Brady took her hand and didn’t let go as they navigated the hallways. Because it was after midnight, the hospital had a hushed atmosphere, and there weren’t many people around. He led her through a side entrance and straight into the back seat of a pristine black Mustang. Only then did he release her.

  Olivia was certain her skin didn’t really feel colder without his large, strong fingers enveloping hers.

  The male driver twisted around to greet them. “That was fast.”

  Brady fastened his seat belt. “She was already dressed. Plus, we didn’t bother with discharge papers.”

  “Don’t mention that to Audrey.” His attention switched to her. “Audrey’s my fiancée, by the way. She’s a surgical nurse in post-op. You must be Olivia.”

  “Hello.”

  She couldn’t make out much in the darkness, but he appeared to be around the same age as her and Brady. His brown-black hair was shorn in the typical military haircut, and he had handsome features that hinted at his Asian heritage.

  “Olivia, this is Sergeant Julian Tan.”

  “Right, the one with Force Recon.”

  “Did he happen to mention I’m not on an active team anymore?”

  “He’s an instructor,” Brady told her. “He’s careful to make that distinction, although I don’t agree it matters.”

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she said.

  “I wish it was under better circumstances. I met your husband a couple of times.”

  “Oh?”

  “Julian joined us for basketball practice on occasion,” Brady explained. “He used to go out on missions and couldn’t be there for the actual games.”

  Julian nodded. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

  The sting of those words had become muted as the months marched past. She could accept them with grace instead of dissolving into grief.

  Adjusting the vents in their direction, Julian faced forward and eased away from the curb.

  Brady looked over at her. “You and Audrey have something in common. She found herself in a dangerous predicament about nine months ago, in this very hospital.”

  “Brady put his neck on the line for us,” Julian supplied, taking the central artery through town.

  “I gave you a set of keys and supplied you with fast food, that’s all.”

  He snorted. “It was a lot bigger than that, and you know it.”

  “Mind if I fill Olivia in on the details later?”

  “Be my guest. I’m sure she read about it in the newspapers, anyway.” He met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “I wouldn’t wish that kind of trouble on anyone else. I don’t know the details of your situation, but I’m happy to help in any way I can.”

  “Thank you.”

  “First stop, base housing for essentials?” Julian asked.

  “Yes, please,” she said. “I can be in and out in under ten minutes.”

  Olivia stared out the window at the passing restaurants. They left the congested area behind and sped along the bypass leading to the air station. The mood inside the car changed almost imperceptibly. Julian sat straighter, his shoulders tightened and his jaw hardened.

  Brady noticed, too. “What?”

  “We have a tail.”

  Her throat started closing up. Her first instinct was to turn around and look out the rear window. Brady stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

  “Make and model?”

  “Chevelle, a classic with serious engine power. Could be black or navy.” Julian checked the side mirrors. “He’s keeping a safe distance for now.”

  “We made the right decision to leave,” she said.

  “Yes, we did.”

  “Julian, are you armed? Because mine are under lock and key at the house.”

  “I came prepared. Let’s test him,” Julian said. “Hold on.”

  He jerked the wheel to the right and, zooming across two lanes, applied the brakes and took a sharp right. If not for his seat belt, Brady would’ve plowed into Olivia.

  “Did we lose him?”

  “Nope.” Julian checked the mirrors. “He’s not trying to hide anymore, either.”

  Brady finally looked back and muttered something unintelligible. Olivia did, too, and wished she hadn’t. The older model car was deceptively large and clumsy looking, but it was quickly catching up.

  “You recognize the car?” he asked her.

  “No.”

  “Forget the air station,” he said, facing forward again. “Let’s lose him and go straight to my place.”

  “Roger. Time to shake this guy.”

  Julian gunned the gas, and the engine rumbled in response. Olivia was pressed against the leather seat as they raced through one sleepy neighborhood after another. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

  Tension emanated from Brady in waves. His jaw was locked, his hands balled into fists.

  A grinding thud vibrated through the Mustang, and she and Brady pitched forward. The Chevelle had rammed into them.

  “Hold on!” Julian yelled.

  He executed a sharp left turn onto a side street. In the middle of the turn, another jolt sent them spinning widely. An oak tree came rushing at Brady’s door. Olivia screamed and seized his forearm, as if she could somehow protect him. At the last second, Julian righted the vehicle and hit the gas. They darted across the road and encountered uneven sidewalk. A garbage can went flying.

  Olivia’s stomach rolled. A bullet screamed through the rear windshield. Brady cupped her neck and shoved her down, his upper body shielding her as glass rained down.

  “Okay,” Julian spat. “Now I’m angry.”

  They were tumbled this way and that as the tires gripped the sidewalk, then air, then asphalt.

  “Liv, are you hurt?” Brady’s mouth hovered near her ear.

  “Having trouble breathing, thanks to you.”

  His weight shifted an inch or so, but he continued to cover her. “Better?”

  She nodded. “You okay?”

  “I’m good.”

  Another bullet whizzed past them and embedded in the passenger seat headrest.

  “Enough,” Brady huffed. “Julian, your gun?”

  The Mustang jerked left, then right in a zigzag pattern.

  She heard the gun barrel’s slide and click. Brady twisted, braced his back against the front seat and aimed. The instant Julian steadied the car, he began firing. The succinct pops assaulted her ears.

  “One headlight gone,” Brady called above the noise. “He’s slowing.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Julian maintained
speed.

  Brisk air whipped through the car. Olivia slowly sat up and shook bits of glass from her hair.

  “He’s gone.” Brady turned around the right way and sagged against the seat.

  No one spoke as they navigated more side roads. Olivia tried not to think about what ways he might’ve attempted to kill them had they remained at the hospital. Her enemy was tenacious and inventive. She couldn’t fathom what she’d done to inspire such hatred.

  When they finally reached Brady’s house and parked inside his garage, the damage to Julian’s car became apparent.

  She balled her right hand to stop the shaking. “I’ll pay for the repairs.”

  Brady shot her an inscrutable glance across the hood. “No, I will. I involved him.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Julian said. “That’s what insurance is for.”

  Julian accepted his handgun from Brady. Under the garage lights, she saw that he was well over six feet tall and built like a tank. He would make a formidable adversary based on his physicality alone, never mind his intensive training as a Force Recon marine.

  “Why don’t you go get cleaned up while I inform the police?” Opening the rear door, he leaned in and examined the headrest. “The bullet he left for us might turn out to be useful.”

  “Thanks, brother.” Brady ushered her inside and disarmed the alarm system, then started flipping on lights.

  She’d been to his home a couple of times. Not much had changed. There were updated editions of architecture magazines stacked on the kitchen island and more kids’ drawings hanging on his stainless-steel fridge. It was sweet that he not only kept them but displayed them in his otherwise pristine kitchen.

  The combined living and dining areas—furnished with quality furniture pieces and lush throw rugs atop wooden floors—were similarly spotless. He took care of his possessions. Because he had so little as a child?

  “You’ve lived here three years, right?”

  “That’s right.” He opened the fridge. “Would you like a bottle of water? Soda?”

  “Water, please.” He passed it across the island. “You designed this house. Do you ever get the itch to move? Design another?”

  He’d once said that, if he hadn’t become a pilot, he would’ve pursued an architecture degree. Based on the functionality and comfort level of this house, she was confident he would’ve made a name for himself.

  After guzzling down half of his own water, he considered her question. “I would change a few things about this place. Make the garage bigger and add more storage, for instance. Would I want to sell this one and start over from scratch? No.”

  Olivia wandered into the living room and gestured with her bottle to the French doors. “The courtyard area is my favorite part.”

  The split bedrooms were positioned to form a spacious stone courtyard, complete with grilling area, seating and koi pond. Brady had grilled steaks for her and Derek out there, and they’d spent hours beneath the stars. She’d been content to listen to the men recount stories about officer and flight schools.

  He followed her and stared broodingly through the glass. Was he remembering those times, too?

  Matching picture frames on the entertainment center caught her eye. They hadn’t been there before. She studied the first one, which featured a pair of young marines on the tarmac with helicopters in the background, their arms slung around each other’s shoulders and grinning like fools. Brady and Derek in the early years of their friendship.

  Sensing Brady’s perusal, she murmured, “You look like you don’t have a care in the world.”

  He moved to stand beside her. “That was one moment of triumph and elation in the midst of crazy hard times.”

  “I enjoyed the stories about your escapades.”

  “I wouldn’t have finished without Derek. My grandmother died six weeks before graduation, and I almost quit. He refused to let me.”

  She turned her head. “He was your closest friend, wasn’t he?”

  His lips lifted in a self-mocking smile. “I determined at a young age that being alone was better than caring about someone who’d eventually leave. I succeeded in my goal all through middle and high school. College was about studying and earning top marks. There wasn’t time or energy to make friends in officer candidate school. And then, the first day of flight school, this cocky guy strolls up and starts chatting about cars, girls and everything else under the sun. Derek decided he was going to be my friend. I wasn’t really given a choice.”

  Something occurred to her then. For a man like Brady, who’d been discarded and ignored and who’d forged through life alone, a friendship like the one he’d shared with Derek would be worth safeguarding. And he had, hadn’t he? He’d condemned her from the start, not giving her a chance to prove she was trustworthy. In Brady’s mind, she’d appeared suddenly in Derek’s life and become a fixture practically overnight. That hadn’t helped her case.

  Picking up the second frame, she tapped the glass. “Your grandmother?”

  “Yes.” His brows drew together. “That was taken the summer I went to live with her.”

  The towheaded boy in the photo was all angles and sharp edges. He didn’t have the healthy roundness most boys that age possess. He was unsmiling, of course, and his eyes bore witness to desolation. His grandmother was as gangly and thin as Brady. Life experience had carved a network of lines around her mouth and eyes.

  “She had a kind face.” When he didn’t reply, she said, “Was she kind?”

  His chest rose and fell in an exaggerated sigh. “Yes, she was.”

  He was exhausted. Because of that, his guard was lowered, and emotions played across his face in quick succession. It was clear he missed her. Whatever sort of relationship they’d shared, he’d loved her. And now two people he’d risked his heart on were dead.

  The need to offer comfort and companionship lodged deep in her chest. The forcefulness of it stole her breath. How many times had this man been held? Comforted? Loved? That last word startled her. She turned away before she damaged the tenuous connection that had formed between them.

  Olivia had treasured friends in her life. She had sisters who infuriated and delighted her, parents who loved and supported her, and a boisterous network of aunts, uncles and cousins. She was blessed.

  Still, there was something about Captain Brady Johnson that called to her.

  * * *

  Brady liked having Olivia in his home. He’d experienced a brief burst of apprehension when she’d first walked inside. More than a year had passed since she’d been here, and not alone.

  What he didn’t like was her looking at him like he was a lost, helpless puppy that needed saving. It made him feel vulnerable, and he avoided that feeling at all costs.

  “Which one do you like best?” Standing at the center island, a bowl cupped in one hand, he motioned with his spoon.

  “It’s impossible to choose.” Seated on one of the stools, she shook her head. “You shouldn’t have given me all five flavors.”

  He took another bite. “It’s three o’clock in the morning. We shouldn’t be eating anything. Why not go all out?”

  They’d both showered and changed. Since she didn’t have clean clothes with her, he’d lent her plaid pajama pants and a long-sleeved shirt. They hung on her smaller frame, but at least she was warm. Her hair was a sleek curtain down her back, and the military-green shirt complemented her skin and dark eyes.

  The door to the garage opened, and Julian strolled inside as he was completing a call. “The police will be here in about twenty minutes to take our statements. They’re almost finished processing the scene of our collision.”

  “Don’t both of you work tomorrow?” Olivia said, glancing at the stove clock. “I mean today?”

  “I’m used to functioning on little or no sleep.” Julian clapped him on the back. “Watch out
for this one, though. He gets giddy when he’s sleep deprived.”

  Brady rolled his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “You know when you’re exhausted and you get delirious and laugh at stupid stuff?”

  Olivia smiled. “Brady does that?”

  “No, I don’t.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Julian nodding his head. “Fine. No ice cream for you.”

  “Why would I want your ice cream when I can have Audrey’s pancakes?” To Olivia, he said, “We live in the same apartment complex, on the same floor. She invites me over for breakfast most days.”

  “She spoils you.” Brady waved his spoon at him. “And I suppose you earned a scoop or two of ice cream considering you got us here alive.”

  “A scoop or two, huh?” After grabbing a bowl from the cabinet, he opened the freezer and considered the contents. “I’m thinking more along the lines of a year’s supply.”

  “You’re out of your mind, Tan.”

  Brady looked up to find Olivia watching their exchange with a bemused expression. Maybe it was the late hour or the sugar rush, but he allowed himself to fully appreciate her beauty. Hers wasn’t cool or manufactured. It was vibrant. Natural. Her inner effervescence was reflected in her bright eyes and sweet smile.

  Julian shattered his musings when he perched on a stool near Olivia’s. “Speaking of our harrowing ride home, any ideas who’s behind this?”

  Her eyes took on a hunted look. “I don’t have any work rivals that I’m aware of. I’m not involved in workplace disputes.”

  “What about the aquarium?” Julian said. “Are there any repeat visitors who stand out in your mind? Anyone who might’ve paid you undue attention?”

  “I can’t think of anyone.” Going to the sink, she rinsed out her bowl and turned to face them.

  Brady finished off his ice cream and joined her at the sink. “Why don’t you tell Julian about your special project with the saltwater fish?”

  Scooting over to give him room, she outlined the project’s goals of raising saltwater fish in-house and lessening the need to gather wild specimens.