“You should go,” she said. “You want to get settled at the house before dark. I’ve called Tom and asked him to make sure everything’s ready for you.”
“Thank you.” He hesitated, then leaned in, put his arms carefully around her, was almost surprised when she didn’t pull away. She felt frail in his arms. “I love you, Mother. It was nice to see you.”
“I love you too.” She pulled back, stepped away from him. “Drive safely.”
He smiled. “I’ll text you when we get there.”
He went around to the driver’s side of the car and got in, feeling strangely hopeful in spite of everything. He and his mother had been sad a long time, but there was still time to turn it around. He thought he might actually believe it.
Nora waved out the passenger window as he pulled down the long drive, and then they were making their way out of the Capitol District and onto the highway heading north.
The blue sky was startling so early in the summer — they usually had to wait until August to get real sun in Seattle — and he rolled down the windows, looked over at Nora, her damp hair blowing around her face as the city fell away. He had a million questions for her — about her impressions of his mother, about Nora’s own family in Boston — but he didn’t want to risk the tenuous peace that had developed between them since their conversation on the tarmac when they’d first landed in Tacoma. He wasn’t naive enough to believe it meant anything, but he no longer felt a wall of ice between them.
He would take what he could get.
They stopped for gas once and pulled into the seaside town of Anacortes nearly two hours after leaving Seattle. It took all of five minutes to pass through downtown and make their way to the harbor.
“Is this where we’re staying?” Nora asked.
“Not quite.” He got out of the car and removed their bags from the trunk as she came around to the back of the car.
“Are you planning to hide me at the top of the world?”
It was the first hint of humor he’d heard in her voice since L.A.
He smiled. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Very funny.” Her expression grew serious. “But really, at the risk of sounding like a kid, are we there yet?”
“Almost.” A piece of blond hair blew across her face and he took a chance, tucked it behind her ear, was encouraged when she didn’t shrink away from him. “I know it’s a long trip, but it’ll be worth it, I promise.”
She looked around. “This looks pretty nice.”
For a moment, he saw what she saw: an oceanside village with small-town charm, waterfront houses visible on the shoreline.
“This is nothing.” He held out his hand. “Come on.”
She hesitated, then took his hand. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”
He headed for the dock, trying to shake the feeling that the words were somehow prophetic. That Nora would be made complicit in everything he was about to do.
That she would suffer because of him.
26
She was so busy looking around that she barely registered stepping onto the dock. It wasn’t until they came to a stop in front of a vessel that looked too big to be called a simple boat that she realized what was happening.
“What is that?”
Braden laughed, and she tried to pretend the sound of it didn’t curl her toes. “That’s a boat. And our transportation to our lodgings for the night.”
“I knew it,” she said. “You are hiding me away somewhere.”
He squeezed her hand. “Only for a night or two.”
He stepped onto the boat and steadied her while she did the same. She stumbled a little as it rocked under her feet.
“Do you get seasick?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“Good. I’ll show you around.”
There was a plush interior that had all the comforts of a modern living room, a galley kitchen outfitted with everything a gourmet cook needed to turn out a perfect meal, two bedrooms, beds piled high with fine linens, and a bathroom that, while small, had everything anyone could need at sea.
Above deck, the stern was spacious, with teak lounge chairs and cushioned benches, a staircase rising to the covered bridge.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he said. “I’m going to cast off and then we’ll be on our way.”
He stripped off his jacket and she watched as he hopped easily off the boat, untying the ropes that kept it attached to the dock and throwing them back onboard. Muscle rippled under his long sleeve T-shirt as he worked, and the memory of his back under her hands as he moved inside her flooded her body with warmth. She looked away when he jumped back on the boat, one of the ropes in hand, not wanting him to see the flush on her cheeks.
He stopped on the bottom step leading up to the bridge. “Come up. You’ll get a better view.”
She followed him up the stairs, avoided looking at his big thighs, his perfectly sculpted ass. When they reached the bridge, he put the key in the ignition and she both heard and felt the boat’s engine gurgle to life underneath them. A moment later, they were coasting away from the dock, slowly at first, then more quickly as they moved toward the buoys that marked the harbor.
She settled onto the chair next to where he stood, manning the wheel like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You never mentioned a boat,” she said, loud enough to be heard over the wind.
“It was my father’s. The love of his life, I think.” He hesitated, a mix of emotions playing across his features as he looked out over the water. “I haven’t been here since he died.”
“Over six years ago?” She knew it had been that long from the passing conversations they’d had about their families.
He nodded.
“Why?” she asked him. “It’s beautiful.”
It took a moment for him to respond. “It seemed like something that was his.”
She had to fight the urge to get to her feet, stand next to him, wrap her arms around his waist. Had he and his father been so distant, the rift between them so wide, that even after his father’s death Braden couldn’t be sure his father would want to share something so meaningful with him?
It was impossible for her to imagine. Her relationship with her family wasn’t perfect — especially with her brothers — but she knew they loved her, hoped they knew she loved them. She hadn’t left anything unsaid with her mother. Even after Erin’s sudden death, Nora didn’t doubt that her sister knew she was loved, that she was loved by Erin in return.
They passed the buoys and Braden opened up the engine, speeding out into the open water, the wind too loud for them to talk. That was probably the idea. Braden had never been forthcoming with details about his history. She doubted he was in the mood to confide when there was so much to settle between them.
They passed a couple small islands, lush trees with deep green leaves lining the shoreline, then continued farther out into the Pacific. The rocking of the boat was meditative, the hum of the engine conspiring to put her to sleep.
After awhile Braden looked over at her with a smile. “Why don’t you go below deck? We still have about forty-five minutes. Plenty of time for a nap.”
“I’m okay.”
She didn’t want to nap. It was already difficult to keep her bearings. To hold onto the reality that had brought them here when every minute she felt like she was falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole, into a world that existed on a parallel plane, one where there was nothing between them. Where there was just this man that touched her so deeply, that awakened feelings she didn’t know she could have for someone.
“You can sit on the bow,” he said, pointing to the front of the boat and the guardrail that ran along it. “Dangle your feet over the side.”
“Maybe I will.” It would keep her awake.
“There should be drinks in the fridge if you’re thirsty,” he said as she made her way to the stairs. “Food, too.”
“Thanks. Can I get you anything
?”
“I’m good.”
She descended to the deck, then stepped onto the narrow walkway between the enclosed cabin and the edge of the boat. She held onto the handrail while she made her way to the front of the boat, the wind blowing her hair around when she finally stepped free of the cabin.
The water passed swiftly under them, the spray dousing her as she lowered herself onto the front of the boat and dangled her legs over the side. It was an almost indescribable feeling, hurtling through the air ten feet above the sea, the salt spray hitting her face as she floated above the abyss. The water was the greenest she’d ever seen, the sun turning it into a net of emeralds, briefly illuminating the mystery at the surface before the water turned dark below.
She was captivated by it, by the islands that sped by every fifteen minutes, the houses that hugged the shore. She tried to imagine the people that lived in such a magical place. What did they do for work? How did they get groceries? Were they happy?
She was surprised to find that the idea appealed to her: the thought of waking up to the ocean with no place to go, no battles to fight. She shook her head. She was losing her grip on reality. On all the things that mattered to her. That had always mattered to her.
The sky had become increasingly overcast by the time the boat’s engine slowed. She looked up to see that they were approaching a large green island, a wooden dock jutting out into the water. At first it looked like nothing but woods nestled behind a sloping cove, but a moment later a house came into view, standing sentry on a hill over the beach.
She turned around, looked up at Braden. His eyes were already on her, and she wondered how long he’d been watching her. He navigated toward the dock, slowing the boat further as they approached.
She drew in a breath. So this was it: the place where she would get her answers.
For better or worse.
27
He hadn’t expected his chest to tighten when the house came into view. It wasn’t like things had been that different during the weekends he’d spent with his parents on Orcas Island when he was a kid. His father was always his father — strict and aloof, preoccupied with thoughts that were as mysterious to Braden when his father died as they were when he was alive.
But this was the place he had loved most. The boat, the island… they seemed to come closest to touching the part of his father that was off limits to Braden and his mother. Here his father smiled, the lines around his eyes easing just the slightest bit.
And Braden had felt free too. Had run wild in the woods in a way he couldn’t on the manicured property in Seattle. Had brought seashells and rocks into the house to study without his mother scolding him for the mess. The island had cast its spell on them all. Even his mother had been hesitant to break it with rules and criticism.
He steered the boat toward the dock, cutting the engine when he judged them close enough to make the jump. Then he hurried down the stairs and grabbed the rope, stepping onto the dock and tying onto one of the cleats.
Nora appeared at the railing. “Can I help?”
“Grab that rope there,” he said, indicating a thick length pooling on the floor of the stern. She did, and he waved her onto the dock. “Bring it with you.”
She glanced at the two feet of water between the boat and the edge of the dock, then jumped, landing lightly on the wooden planks.
“Good. Let me show you how to tie-on.” He took the rope from her hands and made a figure eight around the big metal cleat screwed into the wood. “Want to do the last one?”
“Yes.”
He recognized the euphoria on her face as boat fever. Not everyone got it, but when it hit you, it hit you hard and for life.
“It’s on the bow,” he said.
She scrambled back onto the boat, moved to the front, then hopped off with a coil of rope in her hands and tied-on like an expert. He raised his hand for a high five, and after a brief hesitation, she met it with her own. Other than the hour he’d been allowed to hold her hand in the car, it was the only real contact they’d had since L.A. He was hungry for it.
For her.
He craved her skin and body and hands like a tree that needed light.
“You’re a natural,” he said.
She smiled, then seemed to remember that she wasn’t supposed to be happy.
“I’ll get our bags,” he said, climbing back onto the boat. A few minutes later they made their way down the dock toward the little curved beach and the house on the hill.
“Does anyone else live here?” Nora asked.
He looked down at her. “On the island?”
She nodded.
“There are other houses,” he said. “A lot of them are second homes, although there are some permanent residents in and around town.”
“There’s a town?”
He laughed. “Believe it or not, yes. Rosario is on the other side of the island. It’s mostly a stop for tourists, but there are some restaurants, a hardware store, a small grocery.”
She didn’t say anything as they stepped onto the beach, crossing the sand to make their way up the walkway that led to the house. They were almost to the porch when the first drops of rain hit the top of his head.
He pulled the keys from his pocket and opened the big front door, then ushered her into the double-decker foyer capped with the teak ceiling his father had salvaged from an old boat deck. Dropping the bags on the ground, he shut the door behind them, then moved into the house. It was surprisingly warm, and he realized the caretaker, Tom, must have turned up the heat when he’d brought the supplies ordered by Braden’s mother.
He headed for the fireplace anyway, nervous energy making him want to jump out of his skin. “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I get a fire going?”
She didn’t object, and when he turned around he saw the door to the powder room in the front hall close behind her. He rested a hand against the rough-hewn mantle, bracing himself for whatever would come next.
It was a forgone conclusion that she would end what had been blossoming between them. All that was left was how much she would hate him and whether he’d be dodging questions from his old friends at the Bureau.
He had just lit the newspaper under the kindling when his cell phone rang. It was from an unknown caller, which meant it was probably Locke. He debated not answering, then changed his mind when Nora didn’t reappear. Maybe Locke had found something that would help Braden explain to Nora what was going on at the Bureau.
“What’s up?” he said into the phone.
“You might want to ask your woman that question.” Locke’s voice was low and even.
“What are you talking about?” Braden asked.
“Check your secure email,” Locke said. “Call me back from a landline.”
The line went dead. Braden looked at the phone, then went to the desktop computer in an alcove off the kitchen. It took him less than five minutes to jump through the hoops Locke had set up for secure communications. Then he was in a private portal, logging into an email account that had been set up for him by Locke after their first meeting.
There was one message. A chill ran down his neck when he saw the subject line.
NORA MURPHY.
He hesitated over the mouse, then clicked on the message.
28
He was sitting on the big sofa, staring into the fire, when she finally got the guts to step back into the living room. She’d changed into leggings and a long-sleeve T-shirt, then added an oversized sweater and socks at the last minute. The house was warm despite the rain pelting the windows, the darkness closing in outside, but she needed as many layers between her and Braden as possible.
She was alone with him on a windswept island, ensconced in a tastefully decorated mansion made to look more modest than it was, a fire crackling in the hearth, the sea stormy as it crashed on the beach below.
In other words, she was on dangerous ground.
He didn’t look up as she entered the room, and s
he had the sense that something had shifted in her absence. It wasn’t anything she could put her finger on — call it instinct — but there was something almost challenging in the way he ignored her as she sat on the opposite end of the sofa. A change in the weather pattern that had been the dynamic between them since they’d left L.A.
He reached for two glasses filled with amber liquid on the coffee table, handed one to her.
She took it, drank. “Tell me,” she said.
He finished his drink in one swallow, then turned to face her, his eyes hooded, his expression unreadable. It was the face he wore for suspects in holding. The one he wore when he didn’t want anyone to see what he was thinking.
She tried not to be hurt by it. Whether Braden was holding something back from her was the least of her concerns. That was what her brain said anyway, even if her heart was very much in disagreement.
He started two years earlier, told her in broad strikes about the special projects he’d been assigned to with the Syndicate. It didn’t shock her that he’d been assigned to work with the criminal organization. She’d long ago resigned herself to the fact that sometimes bad guys were let go in order to bring in ones who were worse.
He told her about working to bring down Raneiro Donati, the Syndicate’s leader. None of it shocked her until he started talking about the other leaders — Nico Vitale, Farrell Black, Christophe Marchand.
She knew the names, had heard them whispered in the back rooms of the Bureau, knew they were protected by a vast network of legal organizations that shielded their criminal enterprise. But she wasn’t prepared for the fondness in Braden’s voice.
“I wasn’t supposed to like them,” he said. “But I did, and the truth is, I even came to admire them.”
“You admired them?”
He nodded slowly. “They had a code, and that code was immoveable.” He took a drink of the bourbon in his hand. “There was no bureaucracy, no watering down of the rules. You followed them or you were out.”
Rogue Love (Kings of Corruption Book 1) Page 11
