“It’s James,” she panted, her breath puffing out in front of her. In the moonlight, her eyes were black with fright. “I can’t hold him up.”
James was in the crook of her arm, unconscious. Rivulets of watery blood streaked down his ghostly-pale face. “Give him to me,” he ordered, shoving his forearm under James’ chin. The boy’s body was limp and his skin was icy. “Can you swim?” Ben asked Carly. If he had to, he’d drop James to save her. In a heartbeat.
No way would he let his daughter go under. No way.
“I think I’m okay,” she said, teeth chattering.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, Daddy, I’m just cold.”
Ben looked over his shoulder, keeping James’ head above the surface as he treaded water. JT and Sonny were out of his line of sight. While he watched, Stephen edged Captain Trips as close as he could to Destiny. Jumping distance, as a matter of fact.
“That crazy bastard,” he breathed, starting to swim. With his back to the boats, he couldn’t see what Stephen was doing, but he didn’t have to. He knew the kid was climbing onto the railing and hopping the gap. Acting a fool.
Risking his neck for a woman he didn’t even know.
Tears burned Ben’s eyes again, but he didn’t have time for them. He had to get Carly and James out of the water before he could help Stephen.
Ben knew JT was stronger than Sonny. He could probably strangle her in a matter of moments. Perhaps her FBI training had kept her alive this long, but JT wouldn’t continue to toy with her now.
Ben pushed that thought aside and focused on the task at hand, swimming as fast as he could. James wasn’t big, but he was heavy. Ben didn’t know how Carly had held him up at all. She reached Captain Trips before he did, climbing the aluminum ladder leading to the deck.
Getting James up the ladder was difficult. With Carly’s help, he managed, bracing his weight on one arm and wrapping the other around James’ midsection. When James’ back hit the deck, none too gently, he began to sputter and cough.
Carly burst out crying.
Ben put James on his side, and Carly cradled the boy’s head lovingly while he vomited sea water all over her lap.
“I think he’ll be all right,” he said with a grimace, glancing toward Destiny.
“No,” she said, grabbing Ben’s wrist. “Don’t go over there.”
Ben would do anything in the world for Carly. Anything but this.
Taking her face in his hands, he planted a kiss in the middle of her forehead. “I love you, baby, but I have to,” he said, and rose to his feet.
When he heard the gunshot, he knew he was too late.
JT dragged her to the cabin floor to cut away the rest of her clothes, so intent on terrorizing her he didn’t hear the commotion outside.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she cried out suddenly, trying to cover the sound. “I’ll do anything you want. Please don’t kill me.”
He smiled, delighted to hear her beg. “You’ll do anything I want anyway.”
“Yes,” she agreed, sobbing. “Anything you like. Whatever you say. Please.”
He pursed his mouth, deliberating.
Stephen Matthews exploded through the cabin door before JT could make up his mind. “Get off her,” he said, pointing Sonny’s SIG Sauer 9mm at JT.
She hoped to God he knew how to use it.
JT straightened slowly. “I don’t think you have the balls to shoot me, junkie.”
Stephen clenched his jaw, but his aim didn’t waver. “Try me.”
JT switched the knife to his left hand. The blade glinted in the dim light. Sonny knew JT would go for his gun. With his body turned toward Stephen, she could see the.38 in the waistband of his jeans.
Just inches from her reach.
He went for it at the same time she did. And Stephen pulled the trigger, hitting JT dead-on, straight through the chest.
Sonny screamed as the bullet tore into him. She couldn’t help it. Like JT, she hadn’t been sure Stephen would go through with it, and the noise was incredibly loud. Feeling the full force of the impact, she recoiled as if the bullet had struck her.
The pistol’s report echoed across the sea, drowning out all other sound.
JT fell back against the wooden siding, arms akimbo, eyes glazed. Stephen must have hit him in the heart, because the wound hardly even bled. A perfect kill shot.
Making sure, she raised her fingers to JT’s neck, feeling for a pulse. There was nothing. “He’s dead,” she said, lifting her gaze to Stephen’s.
Her half-brother lowered the weapon. “I killed him?”
She nodded.
His face went green. “I guess I didn’t want to shake his hand after all,” he said, swallowing. With a final glance at the neat hole in JT’s chest, he set the pistol on the dash, staggered out toward the railing, and was violently ill.
Shaken to the core, Sonny crawled out from underneath JT’s dead body. Sitting with her back to the wall, she drew her knees up protectively and brought the tatters of her clothes together with trembling hands. She didn’t feel sick, but she’d never been particularly squeamish. She didn’t feel anything, other than aches and pains. She was just…numb.
Stephen was leaning over the rail, still retching, when Ben appeared in the doorway of the cabin, soaking wet. Puddles formed beneath his feet and steam rose from his clothes. He glanced at JT, making sure he was dead before he kneeled before her. He must be cold, like she was, but the concern in his eyes warmed her more than any blanket could have.
“Carly and James?” she whispered.
“They’re safe.”
He looked down at her cuffed wrists. Very gently, he reached out and cupped her chin, turning her head to one side to study her face. “Did he hurt you?”
“Not much,” she said, giving him a wobbly smile. It wouldn’t stay in place. “He didn’t get the chance.”
Ben squinted at JT, as if he wanted him to die a few more times. Along with anger, she saw relief on his face, and a trace of regret. “I should have known you wouldn’t need me to play your knight in shining armor.”
Tears filled her eyes. He was wrong. She needed him desperately. With an inarticulate cry, she leaned forward, putting her head against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her.
No longer numb, she pressed her face to his neck and wept. She cried for Rigo and for her mother, for lost chances and broken dreams. And then she cried for herself. “I love you,” she said, unable to hold her feelings back.
His body tensed. “I love you, too.”
She lifted her head, staring up at him in teary-eyed wonder. “Are you saying that because you thought I was going to die?”
He smiled. “No. What about you? Do you mean it this time?”
“Yes,” she said, sniffling. “But I meant it last time.”
Blinking away his own emotions, he cupped his hand behind her neck and brought her head back to his chest. “I know,” he said, holding her there, cherished and safe, sheltered in the strength of his arms.
Sonny opened her eyes, aware of a man’s presence in the small room. Grant’s face wavered into focus, concern etched on his features.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Sonny glanced at the clock beside the hospital bed. Several hours had gone by since they’d returned to the mainland. In the minutes following JT’s death, local and federal investigation units had converged on the scene. The Coast Guard’s rescue helicopter had been deemed unnecessary, but James was rushed to Scripps Hospital in a snazzy-looking Harbor Police powerboat. Carly insisting on accompanying him, so Ben had gone with her, casting Sonny an apologetic glance over his shoulder.
Stephen had wanted to go, too, but because he’d been the one to pull the trigger, he hadn’t been allowed to leave the scene of the crime.
Sonny had debriefed Staff Sergeant Paula DeGrassi, explaining that Stephen had been acting in self-defense and giving her sworn statement. After speaking with Grant via satellite phone
, Sonny had excused herself politely, taken a few steps away from the crowd of officers aboard Destiny, and collapsed in an untidy heap on the deck.
Apparently, she’d needed more than air. Ac cording to the nice doctors at Scripps, she had two fractured ribs and suffered some internal bruising. She’d been poked and prodded, her midsection wrapped up tight as a drum. One of those pokes must have included a dose of pain medication, because sometime between then and now, she’d closed her eyes, and Grant had arrived from Virginia.
“Sorry,” she murmured, wincing at the pull in her sore ribs as she straightened.
“For what? Getting hurt?”
She nodded, although she’d been apologizing for falling asleep, as ridiculous as that seemed. “It’s nothing,” she said, minimizing her injury. “You didn’t have to come back.”
Hurt registered on his face. “What kind of boss would I be if I didn’t care about the welfare of my agents?”
Tears filled her eyes, because the relationship between them went deeper than employer-employee. He was the closest thing to a father she’d ever had, and they both knew it. “Sorry,” she said again, this time for getting sentimental.
He cleared his throat, not unaffected by the exchange. “Homicide found a pile of evidence in JT’s locker on Shelter Island. Photos of the victims, personal items, electrical cord…”
Sonny nodded. She hadn’t doubted JT’s guilt for an instant.
“It’s better than a signed confession,” he said gruffly. “Good work.”
Coming from a tight-lipped taskmaster like Grant, it was fine praise indeed. She fairly glowed with pride.
“About your review…”
The warm fuzzies left as quickly as they’d come.
“I’m thinking we’ll postpone it for now,” he continued, surprising her. “You haven’t taken any leave time in a while, and with your injuries, I recommend you do so. Six months down the road, or a year, when this whole thing blows over…”
She frowned at him. “You’re not turning me in to Internal Affairs?”
His expression was deliberately blank. “For what?”
“And Mitchell?” she asked, caution warring with giddiness. “Will he talk?”
“Leave Special Agent Mitchell to me,” Grant replied, eyes narrow.
Gratitude washed over her. “Thank you,” she said, reaching out to grab the front of his shirt. Ignoring the pain in her side, she pulled him close for an impulsive hug. “Thank you so much.”
While he tolerated her embrace, only a little less stiffly than he had before, she noticed the outline of another figure standing in the hall.
Grant lifted his head, following her gaze.
Instead of coming in, Ben hesitated outside the doorway, a gift-store bouquet of flowers in one hand and a wary expression on his handsome face.
As Grant straightened, he looked back and forth between them, understanding and acceptance in his intelligent gray eyes. Sometimes he knew her better than she knew herself. “You aren’t going to be working with me much longer, are you?”
Tears welled up again. “No,” she whispered.
If he was disappointed, he didn’t show it. Maybe this was what he’d hoped for her all along. To love herself, and someone else, enough to want to live past the age of thirty. “DeGrassi’s looking for an FBI liaison to San Diego Homicide.”
She swallowed. “You would approve of the transfer?”
He nodded slowly. When she leaned forward to hug him again, he held up a hand. “Please. Your young man already wants to rip me to shreds.”
Laughter bubbled from her throat. She was so happy, her ribs didn’t even hurt. With one last good-bye and a respectful nod at Ben, Grant was gone.
“Can I come in?” Ben asked.
Sonny leaned back against the pillows. “Of course,” she said, making a murmur of thanks when he set the bouquet on the nightstand. “How’s James?”
“Fine,” he said with a snort. “Eating pudding.”
“And Carly?”
“Won’t leave his side.”
She smiled at his affronted tone. After Carly’s near-death experience, Ben probably wanted to hold his daughter close, but Carly was more interested in making eyes at James. Her knight in shining armor. “What about Stephen? Is he still here?”
“Yes,” Ben said, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “He’s in the lobby, shivering. They offered him a sedative but he wouldn’t take it. I think he’s detoxing.”
Sonny wondered how long her half-brother’s sobriety would last. Getting clean was a hard row to hoe alone. “Maybe you could sponsor him.”
“You mean, pay for rehab?”
“That would be nice, but he might be too proud to accept your money. It wouldn’t cost anything to take him to a few meetings.”
Ben appeared to consider the idea, and although he didn’t make any promises, neither did he refuse outright. “You didn’t tell me you were hurt,” he said, changing the subject.
“Bumps and bruises,” she claimed.
He didn’t believe her for a second. “I’ve had broken ribs before. You won’t be able to take care of yourself.”
“Are you offering to nurse me back to health?” She’d been playing coy, but when he nodded, his eyes dark with intensity, her heart swelled with love for him. “It just so happens that I have some leave time,” she said. “I’ve been thinking I’d like to laze about on the beach for a few weeks, admire your cutback.”
He wasn’t fooled by her lighthearted banter. “Is that all we have? A few weeks?”
“Actually, I-”
“Never mind,” he interrupted. “It doesn’t matter.”
She blinked in confusion. “It doesn’t?”
“Not really,” he said, meeting her eyes. “After Olivia died, I’d have given anything to have one more day, one more hour, one more minute with her. I don’t want to make the same mistake with you.”
Warmth tingled in her belly. “Are you sure?”
He took her by the hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “Yes. I don’t like the idea of you risking your life, but I can’t ask you to give up your job. I couldn’t give up mine. So we’ll work around it. I’ll visit you in Virginia whenever I can.”
“You would do that?”
“Of course.”
She stared down at their entwined hands, her body humming with anxiety. Putting her heart on the line was the scariest thing she’d ever done. “I’m going to request a transfer.”
“You…what?”
“I’m leaving my position at VICAP,” she clarified. “No more undercover work.”
“Why?”
Taking a deep breath, she said, “I guess I found out some risks aren’t worth taking. Not when I have so much to lose.”
His brown eyes softened with understanding. With his dark hair hopelessly rumpled and worry lines creasing his forehead, he was still the handsomest man she’d ever seen. When her vision blurred, she blamed it on the medication. It also must have been responsible for her clogged throat, the heavy lub-dub of her heartbeat, and the swelling in her chest.
Because neither of them was able to speak, she reached out to him, lifting her hand to his face. He sank to his knees at her bedside, giving her easier access, and wrapped one arm around her, very gingerly. She threaded her fingers through his hair and brought him closer to her, grabbing handfuls of happiness and holding it tight.
CHAPTER 26
Sonny pulled into the parking lot at Neptune Apartments, exhausted from the red-eye flight but giddy with anticipation.
Over the past few weeks, she’d slept too little and worked too much. Her lovely plans to recuperate on the beach, lazing about in the warm sun and admiring Ben’s cutback, had been thwarted by cold, hard reality. As soon as she was cleared to fly, she’d been whisked back to Quantico. Wrapping up a serial murder case was a meticulous, time-consuming process, and because of her involvement with every step of the investigation, her input was essential. Reques
ting a transfer to San Diego, giving notice to her landlord, and tying up the loose ends of her old life were also tasks that required hours of attention.
Now that she was free, unencumbered by the past and finished with her position at VICAP, she should feel as light as the ocean breeze that rifled through her hair as she walked toward Windansea Beach. Instead, she was stiff-limbed and awkward, her palms clammy and her pulse racing. Anxiety curled up in her belly like a lead ball.
Ben didn’t know she was coming.
It wasn’t as though she hadn’t talked to him on the phone every night before she went to sleep. He’d told her how Carly was doing and given her updates on her half-brothers. James had enrolled in La Jolla Shores High School and Stephen had been staying clean, working on the Destiny and attending NA meetings.
Over the phone, things between them had been…friendly. Heated, even. But they hadn’t exchanged an “I love you” since that last tumultuous evening together.
The press had had a field day covering the case, and John Thomas Carver became America’s favorite new monster. He might have enjoyed the attention if he’d lived. Every detail of his past was exposed, including his father’s drug overdose and his mother’s sordid lifestyle.
Although JT rarely spoke of his mother, he’d given Ben the impression that Cheryl Carver, better known as Cherry, had been a B-movie actress. She was actually a porn star who’d been strangled by her boyfriend when JT was fourteen. Perhaps her death had been his breaking point, or maybe that time came years before, during the incident that had precipitated JT’s transfer from his mother’s care. When her house was raided for drugs, two uniformed officers found her ten-year-old son unconscious, tied to a bed, naked but for lipstick smudges and candle drippings. Apparently, a couple of Cherry’s doped-up girlfriends had made a game of him, and after they grew bored, they left him there, used up and forgotten.
The history of childhood abuse, and JT’s failure to maintain healthy relationships with women as an adult, were the only indications of his darker nature. On the outside, he was a party boy who lived the good life. No one suspected him of violence, including Ben. JT had hid his true self behind a very handsome, very charming façade.
Crash Into Me Page 33
