by Opal Carew
Funny, it had felt perfect to her.
“Okay.” She let go and swam for the ladder, hoping he hadn’t glimpsed the disappointment carved on her face. The last thing she wanted was his pity.
“Wait. Don’t go. Have lunch with me?” Archer asked as he climbed up behind her, probably not even taking the opportunity to check out her ass.
Silent as she swiped salt water from her legs, she debated declining. Had pretty much decided that it would be for the best if all he was going to do was knot her up inside and send her mixed signals. That would make this job hell.
“Hey,” he said softly, drawing her attention back to him. “I’m sorry, okay? Just…this one time can we put it all out on the table? Then we never have to mention it again. I swear. Deal?”
Fine. “Let’s get this over with.”
Archer nodded. Then he used a nearby intercom to request lunch for two be served on the private sundeck off his quarters. At least they agreed about something. Interruptions would be unwelcome.
Unfortunately, she suspected they believed it for entirely different reasons.
Chapter 11
Waverly tried to act like it was no big deal when Archer admitted her into his personal space. Not because they were finally adults who could do whatever they damn well felt like. Or because they were alone in what was essentially his bedroom. But because even for former rich kids like them, this place was spec-tac-u-lar.
She twirled around in the center of the cabin, which was more like some fancy conservatory than sleeping chambers with the glass everywhere. Cover blown, probably.
He chuckled at her delight. “You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”
Archer waved her over to the accordion doors that essentially removed the entire wall, opening the cabin onto his own personal sundeck, complete with a double-wide lounge bed thingy, a table for two, and a jetted hot tub. She might never leave.
Wow.
“Not going to lie, it is pretty awesome, huh?” His smile was crooked, one corner of his lips lifting higher than the other, accenting his hawkish nose and jaw line. She thought he could pass for a slightly paler version of an Arabian prince.
“Uh huh.” She nodded then sank onto one of the chairs at the table.
None too soon, either. Someone knocked.
Archer called to grant them permission to serve lunch. Maybe he was better off than that prince after all, she thought with a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” he wondered aloud as their server, Maria, presented plates of cheese, meats, hardboiled eggs, and fruit. Freshly baked bread, too.
Her stomach gurgled happily at the smells wafting from the tray to her nose. She waited until they’d thanked Maria, and the woman left, before answering.
“This whole situation, really.” She shrugged. “How did we go from riches to rags and back to riches? Well, I mean, not that I’m loaded, but working here is plenty good enough.”
Archer sat next to her. He plucked some grapes from the assortment, popping them into his mouth. “What do you mean by that? Yeah, I walked away from my dad’s fortune. But…you…how’d you end up in the military? Did your dad disapprove when you told him you wanted to join the Navy? Is that why you went rags? I have to admit, that surprised the shit out of me.”
“I could tell.” She remembered the utter disbelief on his face when she’d told him her name the day before. “I have no idea if my dad approves of what I do. Or if he’s proud of me. Things turned out as well as they could have, I guess. But it started out with pure desperation. I mean, in a single day my dad got locked up, my mom took the easy way out with all those pills she swallowed, and the feds seized everything we had. I’d just turned eighteen a couple of days before, so they considered me an adult. I was out on the street. On my own. I was never really close with any of the girls at school, remember? And after so many scandals, well, you know how it is. I was the drama llama. Unwelcome. Didn’t have many options, to be honest.”
“Time out.” Archer was shaking his head. He dropped his fork and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Nothing you’re saying makes sense to me. I have about twelve more questions now. Your dad did what? Your mom committed suicide? Jesus, Waverly! And the feds? What the fuck?”
“Oh.” She tried to remember the details of the timing. With so much shit raining down on her at once, it had been kind of hard to keep up. And she hadn’t even told him the worst of it yet.
That’s right—he’d left soon before her life had imploded. She knew for sure because a day or two or three after someone had obviously tasted blood in the water and attacked her, knowing no one would give a fuck, she’d taken a taxi straight to Archer after being discharged, looking for help or maybe simply solace. She wasn’t sure anymore.
Probably hadn’t been very clear on the matter then either, given the fog that had lingered in her brain for more than a week afterward. She couldn’t honestly remember much of anything. Including who had found her and taken her to the hospital in the first place. She did know it had been touch and go there for a while, so she definitely owed her life to whoever had looked out for her.
When she’d knocked on the door to the guesthouse behind Archer’s father’s mansion, where Archer had been staying since he’d graduated high school the year before, the door had swung open. Things were strewn about and his luggage was missing.
He’d already vanished.
That discovery had been traumatic, which was likely why she remembered the stabbing pain she’d felt then so vividly given the haziness of everything before and after it.
How she’d wished she could have gone with him wherever he’d vanished to. Hopefully somewhere a million miles away. Maybe that was what had pushed her to enlist. Or to accept the position on his ship now. It felt like coming full circle.
Archer was staring at her, waiting for her to explain.
Easy stuff first. “Turns out my dad is a sack of dog crap.”
“I know the feeling,” he commiserated.
“Well, mine is also a criminal. He’s rotting in jail. Got busted for scamming your dad and a bunch of their friends out of millions of dollars. Everything we had became evidence in his trial and was eventually used to repay a fraction of what his victims had lost.” She sighed then, finally realizing one thing that had gotten her hackles up wasn’t a concern. “I guess I wondered if you freaked when you realized it was me on your team yesterday because you thought I might be untrustworthy like him.”
“What?” Archer’s brow scrunched. He scratched his cheek, then looked out to sea as if it was too hard to meet her stare. “No. I’ve only ever thought the best of you. Don’t judge me by my old man. This seed fell far from that fucked-up tree. So did yours, obviously.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” she admitted softly. “When I realized you had left without saying goodbye back then, I was kind of surprised myself. I thought we had something going, you know?”
“I didn’t figure you’d want to see me. Or anybody, really.”
Because her mother had killed herself? Or because she was mortified by her father’s actions? She was growing more perplexed. He’d just admitted he hadn’t known about any of that.
If he had, he would have damn well been sure she had needed a friend. Him.
That only left one other thing.
Could he know about that? He must. Nothing else made sense.
But how? And had her assault made him think less of her? She shoved that thought away. It had taken a long time—and a lot of counseling—to wrangle those types of insidious self-judgments and beat them into submission. She did her best. Every once in a while, her old insecurities and scars showed themselves.
She must have been quiet too long.
“I am so sorry, Waverly.”
Oh yeah, he definitely knew. Was that why he’d kept his hands to himself before?
How had he found out about her attack but not her father’s fuck-ups or her mother’s death? Why hadn’t he reached out to see
if she was okay? She hadn’t been. He could have made an enormous difference. Instead of allowing anger or sadness to well up, she remembered that she’d taken care of herself and put it behind her. “It was a long time ago.”
“No amount of time can erase something like that.”
She shrugged. “I’ve accepted it. Moved on as best as I can. The hardest part was not knowing—who or why, I mean. Never being able to bring my attacker to justice or simply stare him in the eye and ask how he could have been such a coward as to drug and rape a barely legal girl.”
What?
Archer blinked. Suddenly it all made sense—why Waverly had come here, how she could stand to be around him.
She had no fucking clue.
Son of a bitch!
He might not have done the right thing back then, but he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. No matter the consequences. He deserved her loathing and any other repercussions for telling the truth.
“Waverly,” he croaked as bile eroded his esophagus. “I can fix that for you at least.”
“What do you mean?” She tipped her head, nibbling on her lower lip.
“The man who did such a horrible thing to you…who hurt you so bad…” He drew a shaking breath, nearly crushing the tabletop in his hands, which gripped the edge as if he were clinging for dear life lest he be washed overboard in the storm brewing around them. “It was me. I’m so, so sorry.”
Her head whipped back as if he’d sucker punched her. Then she flew from the table, knocking the chair over in her haste to escape. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, to keep her from falling as he had once in a place far, far away, but he wouldn’t dare advance on her or make any moves that could be interpreted as threatening.
No wonder she’d accepted his apology so readily this morning. She hadn’t even known what he’d been begging forgiveness for.
Trembling all over, pale as an albino fish’s belly, she staggered away from him.
The only thing she said before she disappeared inside was, “I quit.”
“I understand.” Archer felt as though he’d gotten sucked into the ship’s propellers where blades chopped him to bits. Nothing in him remained untouched, unscathed, or unbroken. His heart and soul were minced. Yet the only thing he cared about was Waverly.
He slapped his hand on the intercom. “Banks!”
“Archie? What’s wrong?”
“It’s Waverly. Find her. Help her. Whatever she needs. Tell her to take the chopper if she wants, but make damn sure she’s sound to fly before you let her take off.” He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to her because of him.
Again.
“Are you okay, Archie?”
“No.” He didn’t elaborate. “But Banks, anything she tells you, believe it. It’s true. All of it.”
He groaned as he imagined the extent of the man’s shock and disappointment in him. “If you would like to go with her, I don’t blame you. I’m sorry.”
“Archie!”
With a vile curse, he took his hand off the intercom button. Then he locked the doors to his cabin. He wasn’t fit company for anyone.
And might never be again.
Chapter 12
A week later, Archer sat on the dive platform, dangling his legs in the ocean as he stared at the waves rolling by. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, or slept, or taken a shower for that matter. Even finding the energy to dive was impossible.
He leaned forward, wondering how much farther he’d have to tilt before he slipped into the warm water and let it close over his head. It would be peaceful, he bet.
“Archie,” Banks called softly.
He didn’t bother to turn around or reply, annoyed that the promise of solace had been stolen from him. For now.
“We need to talk to you.” Tosin this time.
“Enough is enough, man.” Miguel was here, too.
Great. This was officially some sort of intervention.
He didn’t bother to acknowledge them. It would never be enough.
They hadn’t seen the devastation in Waverly’s gorgeous eyes. Like the ocean on a bright day overtaken by a violent summer storm. He’d done that to her. And more.
No telling what damage he’d done by letting her kiss him. He’d been totally insane to believe she could want him after he’d abused her trust so totally.
“Tell us what happened?” Banks asked, though Archer knew it was actually a demand disguised by politeness.
He still didn’t speak.
“You know, when the two of you vanished within days of each other, I actually thought she might have run off to be with you,” Banks confessed. “There was something between you, wasn’t there?”
“There might have been, eventually.” Archer shrugged.
Shit, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Now that he had, though, he kept going. “I kissed her a few times. Followed her around, waiting for her to turn eighteen. Wanted to do a lot more.”
Had done a whole lot more, when she’d been unable to consent.
“Ah, but you never got the chance,” Banks said softly.
Archer let him think that.
“Anyway, her position here was the final one I had to fill. When her resume popped up in an online search of the top one hundred helicopter pilots in the world, I thought it was destiny. I knew she flew. I had kept tabs on her like you asked. Was aware she was making a life for herself. I just hadn’t realized how good she was until I started digging in.”
Archer nodded, completely unsurprised she was that successful at what she’d elected to do with her life. “You couldn’t have known. I’m certain my father went to great lengths to keep our relationship a secret. For various reasons.”
“Would you tell us more about whatever happened?” Tosin wondered as he sat next to Archer.
Miguel took the spot on his other side, then said, “We’re guessing it has something to do with that crap you were spouting. About why you hated your father.”
Banks sighed wearily as he sank into a deck chair. Glad he didn’t have to face the man as he confessed, Archer nodded. “It does.”
Maybe it would help to finally say it out loud to people who would actually listen. The one time he’d come clean, it hadn’t gotten him anywhere. This would be a different kind of confession, one more about saving his soul than requesting justice be served.
No need to pretty it up.
Archer blurted out the truth: “I raped Waverly.”
He dropped his face in his hands, too mortified to face his friends and the man who was more of a father to him than the one who’d knocked up his mother. If he had any tears left, he probably would have bawled. As it was, sickness gnawed at his guts.
Instead of condemning him, Banks came closer. He must have crouched behind Archer because his palm landed on Archer’s back, lending him strength. “Archie, I have known you since you were three years old. There is no way you’re capable of something that vile.”
“Not intentionally. That doesn’t mean that I didn’t do it, though.” He had to make them understand. “She showed up at my door one night. I knew she’d just celebrated her birthday. Hell, I’d had the date circled on my calendar for months. Was trying to decide how to approach her. She hadn’t returned any of my calls or acknowledged the roses I sent her that day. So I figured she wasn’t interested. I didn’t know that she was occupied by her life falling apart.”
“And then she came to you.” Tosin smiled weakly. “I can picture her barging in with those brass balls of hers and taking what she wanted.”
“Waverly wasn’t really like that back then,” Banks corrected him. “She was sheltered. Timid. Never encouraged by her family to explore that side of herself.”
“A damn shame.” Miguel cursed. “You two are starting to make me think I was better off having no parents at all than people who held me back.”
He had no idea.
“Exactly, Banks.” Archer
turned then to meet the man’s gaze briefly. “So I should have known something was up when she did exactly that.”
He remembered her tearing her clothes off before she’d even made it through his foyer. Feverish and refusing to wait even until they could make it upstairs to his bedroom, she’d jumped him.
“I’m not saying this excuses my actions, but when I think back on it—as I have over and over and over—it had to have been why I didn’t realize something was wrong. Remember James Trudhart?”
“Now, that kid was trouble,” Banks muttered. “I tried to keep him away from you. He was the son your father never had, that one.”
“Yeah, well, that night he’d brought over a bottle of some nasty liquor he’d stolen from his father’s bar. We put away a solid amount, considering neither of us were legal yet and had never drank more than a half a glass of wine at a time during some dinner party. After he’d barfed in the flowerbeds around the pool a few times, he gave up trying to polish it off with me and staggered home. I was still pretty hammered when Waverly practically kicked my door down.”
Now that he’d finally began to spill his guts, the guys let him keep going.
“Hell, I slept with her thinking she really was into me. That I was a sex god at nineteen, turning this virgin into the best kind of nymphomaniac. It was pretty much the highlight of my life—until way later, when I realized she hadn’t just fallen into a post-sex slumber. She was unresponsive. That’s when I sobered up the rest of the way. And figured out what had happened. Who was responsible.”
“Oh God,” Banks rasped. “Your father was involved, wasn’t he?”
“Yep, dear old dad drugged her. Or, more likely, had someone else do it for him. He told me all about the chemical later. It was fresh on the market, the early stages of something he wanted to invest in. They were calling it Sex Offender. Cute, huh?” Archer held his hands up, then let them drop to his thighs.
Useless.
“Why?” Tosin, who rarely lost his temper, sounded like he might punch something.
