by Sue Wilder
“We’ve marked her GPS location.” Con shouted in my ear. “Salvage ship can find her. Weather report says this is just a squall, passing through.”
I didn’t care about the boat. I looked at Riggs. “How is she?”
“Concussed. Vitals are okay but not great. Looks like someone pistol-whipped her, and she lost some blood—bullet’s still inside. Setting up an IV. Pilot’s heading straight for the hospital. He radioed ahead, but…” He flashed me a look. “I think we got her in time.”
I rocked back hard on my butt, leaned against the wall of the bird and wrapped my arms around my upraised knees. Buried my head and just tried to breathe. Max slapped me on the shoulder. “Almost done, Garrett. Ten more minutes.”
“I could have lost her.”
“But you didn’t. And someone else needs you right now.”
I saw Tad’s tear-streaked face and patted the floor beside my sorry ass. “Come here, kid. Sit by the old dude while he has his panic attack.”
Tad scrambled, and I realized how very young he still was. At his age, I’d been throwing a football around and trying to figure out if I looked old enough to get away with fake ID. Life had been good. Innocent. Glory days of swagger and swearing and damn not knowing any better. How quickly life could change.
How fleeting the moments were. Precious.
“You should have seen her,” Tad said, rolling a water bottle between his palms. He still wore the survival suit. I was grateful. The suit kept him warm, but for emotional comfort, Max draped a blanket around Tad’s shoulders before sitting nearby to listen.
“She was epic, dude—Dacree of Wyvern, jumping in when that Marsh creep tried to shoot me.” Tad gripped the blanket edges and pulled tight. “He was crazy-angry, but she wasn’t afraid, and I’d be dead right now if she hadn’t saved me.”
Gently, I knuckled his hair while my chest ached. “I’d be dead if I came home without you.”
“Yeah.” His grin wobbled. “I told Dacree that mom was gonna nail your skin to the wall.”
“Then she’ll hold burning candles to my feet,” I elaborated. “You did good, Tad. God—you did good.”
“You taught me,” he said simply.
◆◆◆
I didn’t know how many hours passed. Or if they were only minutes. Odd, the way time ceased to matter once we found her.
Doctors took charge. Luna was there, Riggs, Con, Max. Both Wade and Hastings checked in to see what they could do. Caleb Manning with a worried Lis. Jack was with them, alone because Ty was on duty.
Ethan called, said the bar was filled to capacity. Lots of worried friends. I realized Angie joined our group when I felt her hands on my shoulders. She asked about my back, wanted to check for herself. Told her I was fine. Too numb for pain.
Her kiss against the crown of my head had me looking away, gripping the water bottle because I couldn’t drink. After a time, I retreated. Found the hospital chapel, not that I was religious, but I needed the solace in the shadows, and the quiet.
“I thought I’d find you here,” Missy murmured as she slid onto the bench beside me.
“How’s Tad?” I stared straight ahead and not down at my clasped hands. “I should have asked earlier.”
“You had a lot on your mind. And he’s fine.” Her arm slid around my shoulders as she pulled in close. The perfume she wore was floral. Her dark hair fluffed around her face. “He’s exhausted and emotionally drained. But victorious, too. He told me what she did.”
“Yeah. He told me, too.”
“Not everything, Garrett. He told you about the end, but not everything else, how she tried to get Marsh to leave him at the house. But Marsh wouldn’t do it, so she kept provoking him to keep his attention on her. She fought Marsh every time he threatened Tad, and even after he hit her, knocked her to the deck, she taunted him—then took that bullet. It was meant for Tad, but she threw herself between them, and I think…” Missy’s arm tightened. “That puts her in a unique league with you. Both of you, protectors. Trying to save the world.”
My throat tightened up. “Missy. I can’t.”
“Maybe not now. They told me the surgery went well.”
“She’s back in her room, sleeping. Luna is with her, and I thought they needed time. Alone.”
“And you’re busy trying to process. I get it. But I thought you could use some good news.”
She leaned forward and tipped her head so she could see my face.
“You look so… sad, Garrett.”
I wiped a hand across my face. “I thought you had good news.”
“I do. I’m just making sure you want to hear it.”
Her hand dropped from my shoulder, and I reached out, clasped her fingers. “I want to hear it.”
Her smile was tender and radiant. “Everyone down at the old harbor, when they heard what happened. They went out and found the Ibiza. Gordy Hayes boarded her. He took some of his crew. The engine room was messed up. Marsh disabled everything, but they’d brought just about every repair part you can think of, and you know Gordy. Talk about old man and the sea.” Her laugh was a comfort, and I leaned into her.
“They got the engines running, and the Ibiza come home under her own power, Garrett. With Gordy on the bridge. You’ll have to put some money into her, but the boat survived. Tad and Soleil survived. All around, I’d call it a good day.”
I kissed her hair. “Thank you. I can guess how everyone found out.”
“Group text. Very efficient communication. But they love you, Garrett. They love Tad. And they all remember. It wasn’t going to happen again, losing good people to the ocean.”
“You’re never going to trust Tad with me again, are you?”
“Do you see this gray hair?” She pointed to her head. “I’m too young for this.”
My smile felt crooked. “That’s what hair dye is for.”
Her expression turned serious. “I trust you—because my son would not have survived if you hadn’t taught him what you did, not just how to handle the Ibiza. But how to handle a crisis. How to think clearly and remain calm and never, ever give up.”
She took my hand and held it to her chest. “That’s what kept them alive, and why you have my heart, Garrett. Not romantically, but as someone who loves the man you are, and I trust you with Tad as much as I would trust him with Tad Senior if he were here. That much.”
The chapel door opened. An elderly man shuffled in, sagged down on the nearest bench and buried his face in his palms.
The soft sound of sobbing was forlorn.
“We should go,” Missy suggested. “You’ll want to see Soleil when she wakes.”
I rose slowly, measuring the flexibility in my back—muscle pain and stiffness, but not the sharp stab of something worse, and with relief, I followed Missy out and into the hall.
“You know, Tad said one other thing.” She rubbed my back when I halted. “Soleil asked him to tell you something if she couldn’t. But she passed out. Never told him what to say, so… maybe you should ask her.”
I smiled ruefully. “You can’t stop with the hook-up schemes, can you?”
She patted my chest. “What you have with that woman is far beyond hook-up stage. Now go see her. Hold her hand and tell her how you feel.”
We walked down the hall, then parted. Missy went toward Tad’s room, since he was being held for observation. I ended up in the family waiting area outside trouble’s private room, where Con and Max were holding vigil.
“Any news?” I asked as I sat down.
“Hastings is back at work,” Max offered. “Riggs wanted him to take the day off, but he insisted, so he’s on the detail watching her house in case Knowles is stupid enough to go home. Wade is with them.”
I nodded.
“Hastings gave a statement to the police,” Max continued. “Brandon Slate wasn’t involved. He was there to talk Hicks down, get him to surrender. Hicks remains in custody, but Slate was free to go. And Tad’s statement gave us something else.
While they were on the Ibiza, Knowles admitted to hiring the man who hit Soleil’s car. They issued an arrest warrant for Knowles. Sent out an APB. Border crossings, airports, Interpol. All access since he’ll likely run back to England and hide. And there’s more.”
Max glanced at Con for permission. Con nodded. “Knowles didn’t… like… Elle’s disinterest him, thought the drugs were to blame, so he switched out her antidepressants for vitamins. She was without her meds and didn’t know it.”
I met Con’s stony gaze. “I guess you got your reason.”
“He said I betrayed my sister by marrying my wife.” I heard the threat beneath Con’s detachment. “He went after Soleil to teach me about loss. Luna was next.”
The muscles in my jaw flexed. “What are we doing about it?”
“I asked Wade to contact New York. Put all assets on this. Ibiza, Blackthorn.” Con leaned back and crossed his arms, daring me to countermand his orders. I didn’t.
“How long before they have anything?”
“A matter of hours. We’ll find him before the authorities.”
“You still have that black site?” I asked out of curiosity. Con’s dealings in international munitions and his constant efforts to thwart illegal arms trafficking often required unusual methods. Methods outside the law. Ibiza had actually used that site once or twice when interrogating informants.
Con smiled instead of answering. Hours, days, or weeks, when we found Knowles, both Con and I were in silent agreement. I turned my head when the door to Soleil’s room opened and Luna appeared. She crossed the space and kissed my forehead. “How are you?”
“Fine. Just want to know how she looks.”
“Beautiful.” Luna slid onto Con’s lap when he urged her closer. “The doctor was in. She’s close to waking up, and he gave me this.”
Luna took my hand and pressed something small into my palm. “The bullet from her shoulder, or what’s left of it. Thought you could hold on to it for now.”
She closed my fingers around the fragment.
Slowly, I opened my hand to stare at the sort of remnant I’d seen too many times before, then closed my fist before sliding the bullet frag into my pocket. “Thank you.”
“One more thing,” Luna said. “The parents are coming. I called—well, of course I called, once I knew she was safe. You could say they’re angry, and they’ll get here sometime this afternoon. We have plenty of bluff houses. They don’t have to stay with Sunny. But I thought it would be easier if she went… somewhere else when the doctors release her. Like your house on the bay.”
My smile hurt. “You want me to take the brunt of mommy anger?”
“Well, you have a lot of practice with Missy,” Luna teased. “I thought you’d be tough enough.”
I wasn’t sure about trouble’s reaction, but I wasn’t turning down the chance to have her with me, where I could protect her. Try to explain. Fix what I’d broken, if possible. “Just tell me what you need and I’ll make it happen.”
Luna beamed. “I’ll get the rest of her things packed. If you can have someone pick them up and deliver them?”
“No problem.” I pulled out my cell. “Consider it done.”
“Perfect. Now, you need to be there, sitting at her bedside when she wakes up.”
Which was twenty long minutes later, minutes I spent counting the times she took a breath, deciding how I was going to hurt Clayton Knowles when we found him. I watched the bruise darken on her cheek, along with the shadows beneath her eyes. They shaved her gorgeous hair to stitch the wound in her scalp, and the white bandage stood out starkly against the blonde strands. But I thought the nurse had sponged away the blood I’d noticed earlier.
White bandages covered her left shoulder, too, and the fingers on her left hand looked pale and fragile. But the circulation was fine, according to the nurse, and I held trouble’s right hand so I wouldn’t disturb her.
“Hey,” she said, the sleepy innocence in her voice catching me off guard. I wondered how long she’d been watching while I stared at our linked hands.
“You look tired, Garrett,” she teased. “Rough day?”
“You could say that.” I leaned forward, kissed her forehead. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m really good at it, too, huh?”
I brushed at her cheek. “That’s why I call you trouble.”
“I’m sorry.”
When she turned away, I kissed her hand, her fingers. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Those are my words. I left you vulnerable.”
“No.” Her grip tightened against mine. “I meant about that stupid fight we had before you left. I’m so stubborn—”
“And I’m not?”
“Well, you are,” she agreed with a small smile, “which is half the problem.”
“I don’t see a problem.” I didn’t, because she was looking at me again, and not away. “I wanted to keep you safe, not hurt you.”
“And still, you had to rescue me.”
“I did. And you…” I traced the curve of her eyebrow. “Missed all the excitement.”
Her mouth quirked. “Your derring-do?”
“My derring-do,” I agreed gently. “You slept through most of it.”
“What did I miss?”
“My dramatic entrance. I jumped out of a helicopter in full panic, with my eyes closed—which is quite a talent—but Max. He was with me for moral support.” My thumb brushed beneath the bruise. “Tad told me you jumped between him and Clayton Knowles—Marsh. He called you epic.”
She squeezed my hand. “You aren’t the only one who can do derring-do, Mr. Kincade. I can jump, too.”
My smile tugged painfully. “God—trouble. The thought of you out there, with that bastard.”
“I’m fine.”
“But I’m not.” I reached into my pocket and withdrew the bullet fragment, laid it on the table beside her bed.
“What’s that?”
“The bullet they pulled from your shoulder. It’s my souvenir.”
She moistened her lips. “Don’t you mean it’s my souvenir?”
“I’d like to be mine, since I have a glass jar where I keep things like this.” I rolled the fragment with my thumb, reaching for honesty. “Before we took off. The chopper’s bay was open, everyone was inside, waiting. But I just… stood there. The rotors were ramping. I could feel the vibrations beating in my head. Exhaust was hot and acrid, the downdraft kicking up sand. I’ve always used fear, but it works against me, too, and flying had become this symbol of losing control. Losing people I love. And my heart beat so hard because I knew if I couldn’t force my legs to move, I’d lose you.”
She squeezed my hand, and the indrawn breath I’d taken turned unsteady on the exhale. I needed a moment before I could speak.
“Then my mind grew quiet. I heard your laugh. I could see your smile, that… beautiful spirit behind your eyes. You were stronger than I was, and I held on to that strength.”
Tears leaked from her eyes. Gently, I caught the moisture.
“Parts of me are broken. I haven’t learned how to put them back together, while you—you’ve always been this bright light for me. And I don’t know if you want me in your life, but I’ve loved you for fifteen years. If I could stop loving you, I would have, but I can’t and now that I’ve found you again, I don’t know how to let you go. I don’t know how to do that, trouble.”
“Garrett.” She cupped my cheek. “You’re the one great love of my life. No one else. Only you.”
“I am?” My smile jerked with uncertainty.
“God—from the first moment.” I loved her wavering laugh, the captivating innocence. “You were standing on the football field. No one was around. You’d taken your helmet off and your hair…” Her fingers drifted over my forehead. Unsteady, she tried to stretch higher, and I bent my head down, craving her touch.
“Your hair was all wet and long, not spiky like it is now.” My throat tightened when her fingers scraped acro
ss my scalp. “There was dirt on your uniform, grass stains. You were angry, and you had this adorable scowl. I’ve never forgotten.”
I breathed out when her hand dropped to the sheet. All those weeks ago, when she walked into my bar—she’d seemed unbreakable. Now I was the one breaking, and I took her hand again, toyed with her fingers.
“Your parents are coming. Luna asked me to take you home, to my house, and do mommy damage—if you want that.”
Turning her hand, trouble laced our fingers. “I want that.”
“Good. Because it’s already done.”
Her smile turned flirty. “We can compare scars.”
“We can,” I agreed. When she moistened her lips, I leaned in to help her with the water, holding the straw until a knock on the door interrupted.
I looked up. Brand stepped in the room, and slowly, I set aside the glass. Rose to my feet, picked up the bullet frag and slid it into my pocket.
Slate carried pink roses, at least two dozen, wrapped in white paper.
“She’s tired,” I said.
The quiet warning tightened his expression. “I’ll only be a moment.”
I looked at trouble. “You want him here?”
My question was low, hard, and she nodded. “It’s okay.” She looked at her ex. “I’m glad you’re safe, Brand.”
Stiffly, I started for the door, but I planned on waiting in the hall. There was no way I’d leave him alone with her so soon after surgery. She’d have no emotional strength to fight him—I’d do the fighting for her.
“Stay, Kincade,” Brand said evenly. “You should know where I stand.”
I stepped back, coldly bracing when Slate set the roses on her bedside table, near enough that she’d catch the scent.
“I’ll always be grateful,” he said, as he straightened. “You saved her life.”
