Her Other Secret

by Dimon, HelenKay

  Tessa looked down at her lap and tried not to flinch. She hadn’t given permission to be touched but the other woman didn’t seem to care about that. She operated by her own set of rules.

  “To do what, Ruthie?”

  “If there’s something I need to know, I hope you’ll tell me.” The older woman leaned in as if they were sharing a big secret. “Not Ben, me.”

  Wrong. She’d probably tell Cliff and maybe even walk down to the marina and tell Arianna before she confided in Ruthie. The woman held too much power and Tessa was not about to give her more. “I doubt I’ll find out anything that rises to that level.”

  “Don’t underestimate yourself.” This time she patted Tessa on the knee.

  She fought the urge to move her leg. She might not like Ruthie, but the woman did like to talk, and that meant she might spill something worth knowing. “I’m not.”

  “Excellent.” Ruthie stood up and slipped a hand over her hair as if to make sure nothing fell or leaked out or otherwise moved during her impromptu exercise. “I knew we could come to an understanding.”

  Oh, Tessa understood the older woman just fine. “I haven’t seen Doug in a few days. How is he?”

  Some of the tension left Ruthie’s shoulders. “Very good.”

  Tessa guessed that huge smile, the one reserved only for her son, was the first genuine emotion she’d ever seen from Ruthie. She might be a mini-dictator and difficult and far too invested in her Madam President role, but she loved her boy.

  Having been raised by a doting single mother herself, Tessa appreciated the bond. For so long, she and her mom moved through life as a unit. They conquered and survived. They fought and disagreed, and Tessa remembered more than one teen tantrum that ended with a door slam and her mom threatening to remove it if she ever tried that again. But heaven help anyone who tried to bad-talk the other.

  She grew up in a tangled mess of family dysfunction thanks to her idiot biological father, but she knew unconditional love. It was the greatest gift her mother ever gave her. That continued to this day with her Sunday phone calls and concerned texts.

  “In fact,” Ruthie continued, “my son will be working here soon. Not my first choice, of course, but it’s a school credit sort of thing. As a side benefit, I figure Doug might also be able to keep me updated with any concerns about what happens in this office.”

  Man, the woman just did not quit with the anti-Ben rhetoric.

  “Isn’t that interesting.” And damn Ben for not telling her about the office work thing. Of course he’d tried to rein in Doug. It would have been nice if he had told her that and saved her from being ticked off for no reason.

  “I’m sure you’ll be seeing a lot of him very soon.”

  Tessa felt her insides shrivel. If Doug tried to touch her again, she was throwing a punch. He’d had his one warning. “I can only hope.”

  Chapter 8

  Water pelted Hansen’s face as they rode out to the boat; he could barely see. His glasses fogged up into a wet mess. He hardly noticed. Too many thoughts ran through his mind.

  The fights and the threats. Without Judson, Hansen would be back in Washington, D.C., attending meetings and cursing the commute home from work. That would mean no Whitaker. No Tessa. That last thought sent a sharp pain stabbing in his chest.

  The roar of the engine cut off as they pulled beside the yacht. Hansen got a close-up of its size—maybe sixty feet or so. It towered over the water as it bobbed.

  He was about to comment on the lack of movement inside and the deathly quiet except for the waves lapping against the boat. Even this close to shore, it rocked up and down and the storm churned the water and the waves began to crash.

  “You ready to tell me?”

  Ben’s comment broke through Hansen’s mental wandering. “What are you talking about?”

  “Not sure how long we’re going to play this game, but okay.” Ben secured their small motorboat, the one provided to Ben for business use only—Ruthie had made that clear. He tied it off to the back lower deck of the yacht, then turned to face Hansen again.

  “Are you talking about me spending the night with Tessa?” Because as far as Hansen was concerned, that topic was off-limits. Sure, nothing happened but he really wanted it to. So much that the idea of kissing her, touching her, refused to leave his thoughts. He dreamed about her. Hell, his mind wandered to her on and off throughout the day even though she’d stood a few feet from him for most of that time.

  There were so many reasons nothing could happen between them. His mess of a past and bad choices being the biggest. But it was more than that. Her sweetness. His mood would kill off the best part of her in a matter of weeks. And Judson. Alive, he had been a constant reminder of all Hansen had lost. Dead proved to be an even bigger nightmare.

  Hansen tried to conjure up a speck of sympathy for him and couldn’t do it. That likely made him an asshole. Even if what he and Tessa could share would amount to a pleasant fling and mean nothing to either of them except a much-needed release, Tessa deserved better than that. Better than him.

  “Please tell me the weirdness between you two isn’t because you had sex.” Ben made a strangled noise. “Oh, shit. You did, didn’t you? Was it bad?”

  “Stop talking.”

  Tessa and sex. A man could only take so much temptation. And the sex would be great. He’d bet his life on it.

  Ben shrugged. “Fine.”

  “You say that, but I know you don’t mean it.” Hansen knew better. Ben had never just let a subject drop. Once he got something in his head, it would linger there. Pop up at the worst times.

  “I’m here if you need to unload.”

  “Got it.”

  “Right, work now. You can fill me in on your love life later.” Ben glanced up at the threatening sky before stepping onto the back of the yacht.

  “There’s nothing to tell.”

  Ben shook his head. “If that’s true, then I really don’t get you.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Tessa.”

  Hansen felt like he missed part of the conversation. “And?”

  “Forget it. You need to figure it out yourself.” Ben reached for his side, where he’d once strapped a gun.

  Hansen knew the move was born of instinct and all those years as military police. He also knew Ben had firearms locked in a safe in his office. One of the many Whitaker board rules was that Ben had to remain unarmed while on duty, which was usually not an issue because crime on Whitaker rarely rose above fights between neighbors over “missing” newspapers.

  As Ben stepped toward the cabin, he stopped Hansen from following with a wave of his hand. “I don’t want any more contamination of the scene than necessary. You stay there.”

  Hansen waited until Ben disappeared into the cabin to step onboard. He glanced around the sundeck. Nothing there but towels, now soaked from last night’s rain and plastered to the cushions. He didn’t know what he expected to find or what might help his case, but the idea of taking a peek into Judson’s life proved too tempting to ignore.

  “Shit!” Ben yelled and kept on yelling. “Hansen, get in here.”

  Without thinking, Hansen darted through the doorway, then into the plush living area filled with overstuffed chairs, through to the kitchen area. “What’s going on?”

  But Ben didn’t need to answer. Hansen saw her. A woman, petite with sandy blond hair hanging in clumps covering her face. Her wrists were tied together and her arms outstretched where a rope held her tight to a hook on the wall. Blood streaked her skin and was stained and smudged on the floor. The bruise under her eye seemed to darken by the minute.

  “Kerrie.” The name escaped Hansen’s lips before he could call it back.

  Ben’s head shot up and he pinned Hansen with an angry glare. “Who?”

  “Is she alive?” Trying to step around the splatter and the mass of papers and pots and every other kind of kitchenware strewn all over the room, Hansen kneeled at Kerrie’s side. He li
fted his hand, but he wasn’t sure where to touch her or how to help.

  Ben alternated between taking photos with his cell and checking her pulse. “Breathing but not conscious.” Ben shoved his cell in Hansen’s direction. “Snap as many photos as you can. Get her and the boat.”

  Hansen’s stomach rolled. “What the hell?”

  “No choice.” Ben checked her arms and legs for injuries. “I need to untie her, but we also need to preserve the evidence as much as we can.”

  That’s what she was reduced to—evidence. Logically, it made sense, but Hansen’s brain rebelled. He forced his muscles to move but every shift took effort.

  Ben kept working. He took care and was gentle.

  “Hey.” Ben waved a hand in front of Hansen’s face. “Call for the ambulance. They should meet us at Stark’s Marina.”

  The steady tone got through. Hansen jumped to his feet, careful not to touch anything. He dialed but his gaze kept returning to Kerrie. To her face and her swollen eye. Over her ripped shirt and the dried blood circling a cut on her arm.

  She’d been attacked, probably by Judson. That’s the only explanation that made sense.

  The idea of Judson hurting her . . . Hansen almost lost his balance, but he somehow made it back to the doorway. Fresh wet air slapped him in the face just as he thought he might double over with the need to get sick. He dropped his head back and inhaled as he waited for Maddie at the answering service to pick up.

  “And Hansen?”

  He spun around to face Ben again. “Yeah?”

  “I fucking heard what you said.”

  THE RAIN HELD off until the rescue boat arrived at the yacht but no longer. The mist gave way to a steady downpour. Not violent or rough but not great to stand in either.

  Tessa waited on the dock with Sylvia and stared out over the water, waiting for the boats to appear. A few minutes later, they rounded the curve from Throwaway Beach and came into view. The smaller one towed the yacht.

  Finally. Tessa let out the haggard breath she’d been holding. “There they are.”

  It took a few more minutes for Ben to steer the yacht toward the slip reserved for town use. It sat at the end in the locked section of boat slips, which meant it would take a little bit longer for Hansen to get over here.

  The combination of the storm, the scare with the knocking last night, and finding the body had her on edge and jumpy all day. She’d been shaking on the inside while fighting to present an outward calm.

  Rain fell harder now as gray clouds tumbled and rolled. Outside it looked like sunset instead of the middle of the day—very little light along with the thundering sound of wind. This storm could whip through the island and cause some damage. No wonder Ben made recovering the yacht the priority.

  “Lela is only going to have an hour or—” Sirens drowned out Sylvia’s voice. She yelled the rest. “What is this about?”

  The ambulance raced into the parking lot. A second later, Captain Rogers and two of the volunteer first responders, both full-time fishermen, jumped out. The three of them scurried around, collecting equipment and grabbing the stretcher.

  Tessa tried to inhale but suddenly she couldn’t catch her breath. “Do you think one of them got hurt on the boat?”

  Her mind flipped to Hansen. He went out there distracted and frustrated about this guy Judson. He could have lost his balance or . . . anything.

  She started forward to check, but Sylvia grabbed her arm and tugged her out of the way. Footsteps thudded on the dock as the crew zipped by them. Tessa could hear voices on the radios they carried. Very loud voices.

  People started to gather. Some came off their boats and others ventured out of the marina’s clubhouse. A few cars pulled into the lot behind the ambulance. The siren going off happened so infrequently that some of the nosier residents used it as a summons to chase the ambulance and see what was going on.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Captain Rogers run,” Sylvia said.

  “There’s Hansen.” A whoosh of relief ripped through Tessa. Her knees threatened to buckle but she forced her body to stay still. But confusion quickly replaced any ease she’d experienced. “He does not look happy.”

  Sylvia made a humming sound. “Ben looks worse.”

  They were arguing. Ben shouted directions, something Tessa couldn’t quite hear. The rain and wind drowned out everything, but she could see their stiff poses and Ben barking to the crew, then turning to yell something at Hansen.

  None of it made sense. “What happened out there?”

  “Huh.” Sylvia frowned. “Looks like Ben is ordering Hansen out of the slips.”

  Tessa saw Ben point. The showdown continued for a few more seconds until Ben disappeared back on the boat and Hansen stormed down the walkway that connected the public part of the marina slips to the ones operated by Ben.

  “Here he comes.” But Tessa wasn’t convinced that was a great thing. Something had gone sideways out there.

  Right before she could call out to Hansen, Ben appeared again.

  “Don’t go far.” This time his low angry voice carried over the edge of the storm.

  “They’re fighting?” She didn’t mean to ask the question out loud, but the idea seemed so strange to her. Ben’s personality never wavered. He didn’t get upset and never took a shot at Hansen. Not that she’d ever heard.

  “Hansen . . .” He walked right past her, ignoring her outstretched hand. “Hansen!” She looked at Sylvia. “Where is he going?”

  “That was rude even for him.”

  She heard the ding of metal from the boats bobbing in the water. Captain Rogers issued orders as the wheels of the gurney rumbled against the wood dock, coming toward them.

  A person? “Who did they take off the boat? It looks like someone got hurt.”

  “No idea.” Sylvia sounded as confused as Tessa felt.

  “We need answers. I’ll go get him.” She looked around, trying to figure out which direction Hansen had stomped off to.

  “Maybe wait.” Sylvia bit her lower lip. “Tessa, he’s not great with empathy. You go talk to him now and he could say something you find unforgivable.”

  He was going to act like an ass. She knew that. He could be testy even when he was in a good mood, and he seemed anything but that right now. But she’d taken a chance on him. She deserved some answers. “He’s not a child.”

  “No, but he has a temper and I don’t want you to be the target of it.”

  “Well, he doesn’t have a choice. I’m living with him, remember?” She threw that out there.

  “Stay at the lodge. Give him some time to calm down.”

  The advice made sense, but Tessa wasn’t thinking about bedrooms and greeting Hansen over coffee in the morning right now. “I can’t let this go.”

  “Why?”

  “We have an agreement.” That idea kept bouncing around in her mind. He’d promised her. “He’s stuck with me. At least for now.”

  Chapter 9

  Hansen got as far as the parking lot before he remembered he’d caught a ride to the marina with Ben. He flattened his palms against the car’s hood and inhaled. The questions screaming in his head refused to quiet down. Thoughts bombarded him. Judson dead. Kerrie injured. They must have followed him here, but why? Judson had won the battle and the war. Literally drove Hansen out of town.

  Those days, all those months ago, replayed in Hansen’s mind. Rage he couldn’t control or redirect overwhelmed him. He could trace his personality flaws now to his obsession back then. He’d always been predictable and short-tempered. He couldn’t lay the blame for that on Judson. But the explosion, his inability to find steady ground again, tied right back to Judson.

  As the anger grew, his work had suffered. His younger brother, Connor, finally begged for him to go away for six months or a year, however long it took to regain his focus. Hansen was pretty sure that goal would never be obtained, but at least here he could wrestle with his anger in peace. Shut himself off from mos
t people and stupid arguments.

  He tried so hard to clear his mind and tuck the debilitating grief for Alexis away. But the guilt kept swamping him, as did the need to balance the scales. If Judson had walked up to him in town two days ago and said hello . . . Hansen didn’t know what he would have done. A month ago, he would have unleashed. Now, maybe, but the idea of never letting Tessa see his feral side started to matter to him, too.

  So many conflicting emotions. That last confrontation with Judson. The satisfied look on his face as he wiped the blood from his nose after being on the receiving end of the punch. How quickly Judson called the police.

  Hansen had gone too far, and it hadn’t done anything but scare his parents. Connor meeting him at the police station. The untethered fury and pain that nearly doubled him over. It had subsided to a dull ache that never fully eased. Seeing Judson and Kerrie brought it all back.

  The rain fell harder, soaking Hansen and streaking his glasses. He felt as if he hadn’t been dry in days. The second time he took the glasses off to wipe the lenses he saw her, standing just off to his right.

  “Not now.” He couldn’t deal with her questions and doubts on top of everything else. He needed her on his side and the only way to keep her there was to not tell her one more sentence of his twisted story. It was manipulative and shitty. She didn’t deserve to be used but some days she was the only light spot in the darkness that fell over him, and he wasn’t ready to give that up.

  She walked over to him. Stood next to the car, only a few feet away. “You don’t get to make that rule.”

  She didn’t back down or scare easily. She took him for who he was, full of attitude and sarcasm, and didn’t hesitate to shovel either back at him. Usually that was enough. He’d snap out of it when he saw her smile or they launched into verbal banter. He actually craved both at this point, but he couldn’t rally for her. Not today.

  “Seriously, Tessa. I am not at my best right now. I can’t pretend for you.”

  She pushed the wet hair off her face. Tucked it behind her ears. “You pretend with me?”