Shelter in the Tropics

by Cara Lockwood

  She’d have to keep everyone away from them.

  Especially men like Tack.

  The very thought of him made her tighten her grip on the wheel.

  The island grew farther in the distance, now just a little green-and-brown clump. She steered east, and with any luck, in a day they’d arrive in Aruba. Then, she’d have to make contact with Mark’s friend at a marina there. It wouldn’t take long for Rick to find out she’d bought the Sweet Pea, and once he did, he could probably track them through ports around the world. She’d decided to get a different boat, downsize to one she could more easily manage. Then she’d stock up with more supplies and head out into seriously open water.

  Avery happily watched the waves as the sea spray misted them both. The wind kicked up a bit, and Cate altered her course, even as the waves grew choppier. Avery nearly toppled off the bench as Cate reached out a steadying hand. As they got farther from land, the clouds above them grew darker and more menacing. She checked the radio, but found no warnings of an extreme storm. The burner phone Mark bought her told her the weather report for the day was scattered storms, but nothing too serious. If they kept sailing, it would probably just be a little bit of rain. At least, she hoped so.

  “Hang on,” she told Avery and he nodded, all seriousness. She was about to take him belowdecks, tell him to wait it out in the cabin if it got worse, but just then the wind whipped the rigging hard. A latch flew loose, a rippling sail suddenly flapping precariously in the wind. The boat dipped sharply to the right, and Avery gave a little shout as he hung on with his little fists. The big boat was unwieldy for one person, but she also knew she had no choice in the matter. She would trade the boat in at Aruba, but in the meantime, she needed to get there. And she wouldn’t do that with a detached sail.

  She clicked on the autopilot and ran to the front of the boat, careful to hold on to the rigging as she went, always aware that one false step could send her into the sea. She couldn’t afford any mistakes. Cate reached out and tried to grab the flapping rope and latch. It must not have been properly secured in the first place to come ripping out like that. She focused all her attention on the latch as she went about attaching it once more, and securing the sail. That problem solved, she thought, just as an eight-foot wave collapsed into the side of the boat, sending it careening off to the left.

  Cate lost her grip and went flying backward, and in a heart-stopping moment, frantically grasped at air. A shout escaped her lips as she sailed away from the deck, hitting her head on the steel railing with a clunk. She bounced to the deck, landing awkwardly on her wrist, and the rocking boat nearly slid her straight into the water. But Cate managed to frantically grasp the railing, though one wrist seemed not to be working quite right. She could only really hold the railing with one hand. And one hand wasn’t going to be enough as the boat once more bucked under her. Salt water sprayed her face, drenching her entire left side. She shook the water off her face and tried to grip the rail with her other hand, but it seemed to uselessly flop. What was wrong with her wrist? She had to pull herself up.

  “Mommy!” she heard Avery cry from the wheelhouse in distress. She wanted to tell him to stay, not to worry, but she got another face full of salt water. The water drenched the railing, and it became slippery beneath her fingers. She wasn’t sure how much longer she’d be able to hang on.

  Then she felt a strong hand grasp her arms.

  “I got you,” a familiar voice boomed over the rush of the waves. She thought for an instant she was imagining it, but then he pulled her aboard, and in an instant, she was inside Tack’s strong embrace. “I see you’re still as accident prone as ever. You okay?”

  She coughed, salt water stinging her throat as she fought to get away from him. “Where did you...”

  The boat lurched again, sending her into his chest. The rest of her words were muffled in his muscles.

  “Let’s get you and Avery belowdeck,” he said.

  “No!” she shouted over the wind as she shook her head fiercely. “No, I’m sailing this boat.” He would probably take the opportunity to turn them around and head right back to St. Anthony’s, and probably to Rick’s private jet, which would take her straight to jail.

  “Your wrist—” he nodded toward it “—might be broken.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, though a slow throb had begun deep in the joint. She didn’t have time for injuries now. She had to get them to Aruba. That’s all she cared about.

  “Let me help.”

  Cate eyed him warily, wondering what he planned to do. Hit her over the head? Tie her up? Had he already radioed information to that Derek guy? She almost expected a helicopter carrying her ex to make an appearance at any moment.

  Small drops of rain hit the deck. The sea remained choppy, and the fact was, she didn’t have time to worry about any of that now. Given the storm above them, Rick would probably not be risking a helicopter ride. At least that was a small consolation.

  “Okay,” Cate said. Better to have Tack in sight at all times than out of sight and sabotaging the boat. She let him steer, but kept a close eye on the compass, making sure they were headed in the right direction. He took direction from her without question, quietly going about the work of tightening rigging and securing the sails as they moved through the storm.

  Cate glanced at Avery, who sat quietly, watching the two of them, as if having Tack appear on the boat was exactly what he’d planned. Every once in a while, Tack would check in with the boy, make sure he was okay or ask him if he needed to go down belowdecks. The gesture would’ve been heartwarming except for the fact that Tack had lied to them, was probably still lying to them, and nothing he said or did could be trusted. Anger simmered in Cate as she watched Tack take on the role of Boy Scout. He wasn’t one of those.

  The rain stopped, and the clouds above them began to part as a little bit of sunlight filtered through. The seas calmed, as if nothing had ever been amiss. It was amazing how quickly storms blew in and then evaporated once more out on the ocean. She felt grateful for the respite from the weather, but as she watched Tack talk to Avery, she knew they were far from out of the storm.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  THE THREE OF them sat in the small galley belowdecks, eating a simple dinner of canned soup while the autopilot steered the ship into the evening. Cate and Avery sat tucked on one side of the table, and Tack, with his impossibly tall frame, hunched on the other side. The close quarters made Cate more than aware of Tack’s broad shoulders, which seemed to take up all the space—and the air—in the tiny cabin.

  What she wanted more than anything was to yell at Tack, confront him about his betrayal, but she couldn’t do that. Not with Avery there. She didn’t want to worry her son.

  Cate would have prefered a solemn, angry quiet to the meal, but Avery couldn’t seem to ask Tack enough questions. Tack, for his part, answered them patiently. He hadn’t yet tired of the Boy Scout act, Cate thought bitterly.

  Her wrist ached, and she had to eat with her left hand, which proved challenging as a bit of soup dribbled down her chin.

  Avery, for his part, couldn’t keep his eyes off Tack. “What’s that for?” Avery asked Tack, who wore a T-shirt with a logo from his marine regiment and division.

  “It’s the group of marines I served with in Afghanistan.”

  “You were a marine? Does that mean you’ve killed people?”

  “Avery!” Cate scolded.

  “It’s okay,” Tack said, holding up a hand. “We can talk about that when you’re older.”

  This didn’t end the boy’s fascination. “You shot a gun?”

  “Yes.”

  “You own a gun?”

  “Yes, three.” Tack gave the boy an amused smile. He was taking the fifty questions like a champ, but Cate wasn’t happy about it. She wanted to tell him to stop encouraging the
boy. After all, you want to take his mother away.

  “What kind?”

  “Well...a rifle for hunting and...”

  “What do you hunt?”

  Cate began to tune them out. She hated guns and had always made sure Avery stayed away from them. If she were honest with herself, her dislike of weapons was her ex’s doing. He had an extensive gun collection, an entire roomful, and enough ammunition to survive a zombie apocalypse. She never liked the way he used guns, either. The threat of them always seemed to lie between them. When he got angry, and sometimes when he hit her, he’d tell her, “You’re lucky I’m not the kind of man who’d shoot you,” as if that was any consolation, as if that should make her feel better.

  Once, after a particularly bad blow up, Cate woke up the next morning to find a loaded pistol lying on Rick’s pillow, the barrel of the gun pointed at her. The safety off. Rick was nowhere to be found, but the gun spoke volumes about exactly what he intended to do if she didn’t get in line.

  Of course, Rick denied it later.

  I just forgot to put it away. You’re blowing things all out of proportion. As usual.

  But Cate wasn’t stupid. She knew he’d put it there on purpose. He’d put it there to remind her who held the power in the relationship.

  Cate did everything she could to make sure Avery stayed away from guns, and now, here Tack was talking about them so casually, as if they were Lego blocks, or any other toy a boy might be interested in. It made her furious.

  She didn’t want Avery even thinking about guns. His interest in them made her worry. Was he like his father? Did this mean he’d grow up to be just like him?

  Cate swatted the thought away. Avery was nothing like his father. He was sweet and giving and loving. He was no monster.

  “Let’s talk about something other than guns,” Cate said, not looking up from her bowl.

  “Mommy doesn’t like guns,” Avery proclaimed to Tack.

  “I think we can figure out something else to talk about,” Cate said, taking another sip of chicken noodle soup. Her left hand wobbled, but she managed to get the spoon to her lips this time without spilling any. She cradled her right wrist in her lap. It had begun to throb and swell a little. She hoped it wasn’t broken.

  “Sure we can,” Tack agreed. “I have an idea. Let’s talk about where we’re going.”

  Cate nearly spit out her soup. She coughed, a noodle wanting to head down the wrong way, and wheezed. Tack easily reached over and patted her on the back, and she was too shocked and angry to do anything but let him.

  “Mommy, you okay?” Avery asked, concern on his adorable face.

  When she finally recovered, she took a little sip of water. “I’m fine,” she muttered, but she had no intension of telling Tack where they were headed. So he could bust out a satellite phone and call her ex so that he’d have an army waiting for them when they docked?

  No.

  Cate planned to keep her eye on him the entire time they were on the boat. If he tried to relay a message, she’d...what? Tackle him? She glanced at his size once more, looking like a giant at doll’s table. She could not take him on. Not directly.

  “So where are we going?” Tack pressed. He studied her, and she could feel the weight of his gaze as his dark eyes never left her. She squirmed uncomfortably, wishing he’d just let it drop.

  “It’s a surprise,” Cate said, trying to keep the anger out of her voice, though the words came out tight.

  “I love surprises!” Avery declared and then, suddenly, he yawned, a big gaping one. He usually lost steam around this time, and he was getting sleepy. Cate was grateful for the distraction.

  “I think it’s time to get ready for bed, young man.”

  “Mommy!” he protested. “I’m not even tired.” Then, of course, he yawned again. She knew tired when she saw it. She worked on getting her boy ready for bed while trying to keep Tack in sight at all times. Tack cooperated, sitting at the table, casually sipping at his can of Coke.

  Within a few minutes, Cate had Avery tucked into one of the bunk beds, a grand adventure for the four-year-old. “This is the best bed ever,” Avery declared as he rubbed his sleepy eyes.

  She tucked him in with his favorite stuffy, Mr. Cuddle Bear. As she kissed him on the forehead, she sent up a silent prayer that she could keep him safe, that Tack stowing aboard the boat hadn’t ruined everything. Then she turned back to Tack, who watched her slide the cabin door shut. He’d been rummaging through the cooler and managed to come up with a sealed bottle of blanco tequila from the cupboard.

  “You came prepared.”

  Cate shook her head. “That must be Terry’s.”

  “Well, in any case, I need a drink. Do you?” Tack asked as he worked on loosening the top.

  Anger still rumbled in her chest. How dare Tack act like everything is fine? How dare he act like the two of us are casual friends grabbing a drink?

  “Don’t make me drink alone.” He flashed a brilliant smile, and Cate hated the power it had over her. I still care. She hated to admit that, but it was true. She was still attracted to the man who’d betrayed her in the worst possible way.

  Her wrist ached, and she didn’t have any Advil. Tequila might be the next best thing. Though I need to keep my wits about me. No drunken mistakes this time. I want to be perfectly sober so I can defend myself if the real him shows up. The violent one.

  Cate worked hard to keep on her poker face. She knew all about walking on eggshells, making sure not to trigger someone’s temper.

  “Let’s have that drink above deck,” she suggested, nodding upward. She didn’t want Avery to overhear anything.

  Tack quirked an eyebrow. “You going to throw me overboard?” His wry smile told her he was kidding, but the serious look in his eyes said he wasn’t taking anything for granted.

  “I might.”

  “Let me have my last drink first,” he said as she ducked into the stairs and followed he followed upward. Topside, a brilliant full moon hung in the dark sky. A million stars glimmered, crowding the sky like pinholes of light through a sheet of dark paper.

  “Wow,” Tack said, glancing up. “I haven’t seen that many stars since...Afghanistan.” He sighed. “I did bad things there. But nothing as bad as when I took Rick Allen’s money. Cate...you have to believe me, I’m sorry. I have a reason. I do. If you’ll just hear me out.”

  The apology took her by surprise. Cate wasn’t expecting it, and it deflated her anger a bit. Then, she realized, he could just as easily be lying. It could be another manipulation to get into her good graces, to use her once more.

  Cate remained silent, not sure if she wanted to hear more or if she wanted to push him into the water. Part of her wished he was still in Afghanistan, then he wouldn’t be here, messing up her life.

  “Cate, I know you’re angry. I know you...” He seemed to search for the right words. Then he took a swig of tequila. He offered her the bottle, but she refused. I have to keep alert. Be ready. For when Mr. Hyde shows up.

  “Angry doesn’t even begin to describe it.” She crossed her arms and sat on a bench, glaring at him. How dare he upset her up-until-then perfect life? She probably shouldn’t provoke him, but she couldn’t help it. She was angry. “Avery and I were happy. Carol and Mark and Grace...they were our family, and now we might never see them again.”

  The hopelessness of that fact spoken out loud suddenly hit her. She might never see Carol or Mark again. She and Avery were truly alone. Alone in a dangerous world. She glanced at the bottle in Tack’s hand. Now she needed it.

  She gestured for it, and he gave it to her. She took a drink, the liquor burning her throat all the way down to her stomach.

  “I didn’t know. You have to believe when I took this job that your ex was very persuasive. The things he said...”

&nb
sp; “What did he say?” Cate really wanted to know.

  “He said you tried to kill him. He said you stole millions. He said you were a sociopathic social climber who only cared about money and who stole his son from him.”

  Cate took another deep swig of tequila, welcoming the burn as it slid down her throat. Pretty soon, she wouldn’t be able to tell what was anger and what was tequila.

  This was reckless, but she couldn’t help it. He’s dangerous, her mind screamed. Why was she being careless? Because everything seemed so hopeless.

  “Of course he did,” Cate said, sounding bitter. “He loves to play the victim.”

  “And he also told me he could help my friend, the interpreter, Adeeb. Remember him? He has a wife and a daughter, Cate. They’re stuck in Afghanistan, hunted by the Taliban, because I got crosswise with Derek, the man you saw today. He made it his mission to screw Adeeb to get to me, but Adeeb is a good man and didn’t deserve that. He sacrificed so much for me and my marines, and all I want to do is give him the fresh start he’s earned with his blood and tears.”

  Cate had nothing to say to that.

  “Rick promised you a visa,” she said, realizing that this had never been about her at all, or even money, it had been about Tack’s friend. About not leaving him behind. About keeping a promise.

  “Yes,” Tack said and nodded.

  He could’ve been lying. Hadn’t he lied about the dishonorable discharge by failing to mention he’d gotten kicked out of the marines? He hadn’t retired. Not by a long shot.

  “Was Derek the officer you attacked? Was he why you were court-martialed?” Cate couldn’t keep it back any longer.

  Tack’s head shot up, surprise darting across his face. “You know about that.”