“Connor...” Samantha whispered.
“Just stay still. We’re all going to be fine.”
He hoped Nate was okay, as well. His friend was smart, had good instincts. No doubt he’d hunkered down. But what about Kylie and the kids? What if they wandered back outside and right into the line of fire?
Silence stretched. Minutes ticked past. John heard nothing else. Still, he didn’t loosen his grip on Samantha.
Water lapped against his legs, barnacles dug into his hand, the sun beat down on his right side.
It didn’t matter. All that mattered was keeping Samantha safe.
Moments strained past. Nothing. Was it safe yet? Finally, he heard footsteps against the sand. “John, it’s me. Nate.”
John stepped out, still on guard. “What’s going on?”
His friend stood on the shoreline, hands on his hips. “He’s gone. I went after him but he got away.”
“Did you get a good look at him?”
He shook his head. “He was wearing camouflage. I couldn’t tell anything else about him.”
“Everyone’s okay in the house, right?”
“Kylie’s a little shaken up, but otherwise she’s fine. So are the kids.”
“I was the target,” Samantha muttered. “Thank goodness he didn’t go after anyone else.”
“Let’s call the sheriff. Then, if we have time, we’ll do that boat ride. Maybe getting away from this island would be best for everyone.”
* * *
Four hours later, as the boat puttered toward the docks, Samantha tried to relax. She couldn’t. Not after everything that had happened.
The sheriff had come. He’d seemed concerned—very concerned—over all the incidents that were happening here at the cabins. He promised to turn all of his attention to figuring out who was behind all of these acts.
Meanwhile, since Nate, Kylie and Zander had to go back anyway, John, Samantha and Connor had escorted them. Was it safe to be on the water? Samantha wasn’t sure. But, right now, it didn’t seem to be safe. Right now, nothing did. But at least out on the water, one could see enemies approaching. That didn’t help the apprehension leave her, though.
She was tired of living in fear. As a flock of birds passed overhead, a verse from Matthew slammed into her mind. So don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.
She knew God was watching out for her. At least in theory she knew that. Her life hadn’t felt very watched over lately.
But she realized that she was still alive. She realized God had brought people to her who’d given her a hand, who’d been willing to help out. That was something to be thankful for.
Even though she didn’t always see it, even though her circumstances were hard, God still loved her and wanted what was best for her. She couldn’t forget that.
Samantha wasn’t sure what was more unsettling: the fact that she’d been shot at or the fact that her emotions had been churning out of control ever since John had rescued her...again.
Her body hadn’t had that strong of a reaction to a man since...well, maybe ever. As much as she’d loved Anthony, especially toward the beginning of their relationship, she never remembered feeling like she did at the pier.
She was aware of John’s every move, his every breath, his every heart beat. She’d wanted to grab his hand, wanted to lean into him. She wanted to trust him.
She hadn’t wanted to trust a man in a very, very long time.
Right now, Nate and Kylie would trailer up their boat and go back to their normal life. As John helped Nate, Kylie waddled over to Samantha.
“Be safe, okay?” Her eyes held concern.
Samantha nodded. “People keep saying that.”
“You can trust John, Samantha. He’s a good man. If he ever lets you past his walls, you’ll be one lucky woman. I think if anyone can get through to him, you can.”
Samantha glanced back at John as he and Nate talked. “I don’t think he’ll ever let me in. And I’m not sure I ever want to get through. I’m better off by myself.”
Kylie squeezed her arm. “I’ve thought that before, too, Samantha. But once you find the right man, I promise you that it is worth it.”
Samantha swallowed so hard that it hurt. “I’ll have to take your word for it, then.”
“I pray you’ll find out for yourself.” Kylie offered a soft smile. “If you need anything—anything at all—please let me know.”
“You just take care of yourself and those two guys of yours.”
“Take care, Samantha. And keep your eyes open for that big nor’easter forecasters keep saying might come down this way.”
As the sun set, they zoomed through the water back to their cabins.
The cabins were starting to feel like home, Samantha realized. Against all odds, her heart was starting to feel settled...and that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. Not at all.
The last thing she needed was to get too comfortable. Being comfortable meant letting down her guard.
The air was warm and balmy around them, and the water was gentle. Landscape—waterscape?—like this didn’t get much more beautiful.
Her mind wandered to Billy. What if he was an FBI agent now? She wouldn’t stand a chance against him. No one would take her word over his.
But if he’d found her, then why had he gone back to Kylie to question her again? Was he trying to figure out if Kylie was involved?
Samantha prayed that wasn’t the case.
“What are you thinking about?” John asked as he stood behind the console, steering the boat.
Samantha shrugged. “A lot of things. But one of those is that I’m very grateful for what you did today. If you hadn’t been there...”
He reached across the console and squeezed her hand. “I’m glad I was there.”
“I froze,” she whispered.
“Most people would.” He shook his head. “Whoever that man was, he’s done a lot of things. Bombs, assaulting you, spray-painting threatening messages. I’m actually a little surprised he went so far as to use a gun.”
“Why’s that?”
He shrugged. “It’s almost as though whoever is behind this wants this to seem random. Using a gun makes it obvious that the act was deliberate, with the intentions of harm.”
The truth hit her and sent cold fear racing through her veins. “So the person behind this is getting desperate.”
His hand went back to the throttle. “I wish that wasn’t the case.”
Samantha wanted to ask more questions, wanted to talk this out more. But Connor squeezed between them, and whatever had passed between them disappeared. Samantha felt a new kind of longing well in her, though. The longing for family, for community, for more.
The more she was around John, the more that desire grew—against her wishes.
And she had no idea what to do about it.
“Can I steer?” Connor asked.
“Sure thing, buddy.” John gave Samantha one last glance before he began explaining to Connor what to do.
Samantha’s heart squeezed. This moment was so beautiful. And sometimes, all a person had to hold on to was a moment.
She closed her eyes and tried to ingrain this memory forever.
* * *
That evening, Samantha leaned against the porch railing of her cabin and looked out over the bay. The moon reflected off the smooth water, and the night sky with its clear, sparkling stars seemed idyllic. She heard the door close behind her and John stepped out.
“Connor’s asleep. Finally. It only took three games of battleship.”
Samantha smiled. Connor had convinced John to play with him when they’d gotten back. Samantha had tried to curtail her son’s desires to play the game, but John had insisted that he’d wanted to. In the
meantime, she’d sneaked outside to try and gather her thoughts.
“I can’t thank you enough, John. Connor thinks you hung the moon.”
His smile slipped as he moved beside her and leaned on the porch railing, his stance mimicking hers. “Well, I have many faults.”
“I can’t think of one.” Had she just said that? What was she thinking? Her cheeks filled with heat.
“Believe me, Samantha. If you really knew me, you’d know how imperfect I am.”
“Is that because of Alyssa?” The question slipped out and she wanted to take it back. But she couldn’t, despite the panic rising in her.
His eyes narrowed and he blinked a couple of times as if in shock. “You know about Alyssa?”
She shook her head. “Not really. I’ve only heard her name.”
He turned and stared into the water, an eerie silence falling around them. She’d overstepped her bounds, she realized. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He remained silent, staring ahead, a new heaviness about him.
Samantha took that as her cue to leave. She’d probably already upset him enough. Which was a shame since all he’d been was kind.
“I should—” Before she could depart, he grabbed her arm and pulled her close.
“Samantha....” His eyes seemed to implore her, a mix of hope and agony mingling there.
Her breath left her lungs and she couldn’t move. Her heart beat inside her chest and she was aware of every movement, every sound. Most of all, she was entirely too aware of John.
“Yes?”
“I...” He looked at her a moment.
The next instance, she was in his arms and his lips met hers. Chemistry seemed to explode between them.
Just for a blip in time, her worries disappeared and nothing else mattered.
He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. They both seemed to be struggling to get their heartbeats under control, to gather their emotions. Samantha rested her hands on his chest, her breaths shakier than she’d like.
Then John stepped back and let out a groan. He squeezed the skin between his eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
Her heart stopped. His exclamation seemed to trigger something in her—the remembrance that men weren’t trustworthy. For a moment, she’d forgotten. “You’re right. That was a bad idea.”
He looked up, his gaze tortured. “Samantha, let me explain—”
Before he could say anything else, she took a step away. “No explanations. We both know that a relationship between us would never work. There’s nothing to talk about.”
His gaze softened. “Is that how you feel?”
“John, every man I’ve ever trusted has let me down. I have no hope of that ever changing.”
He started to talk, but stopped himself. He probably figured there was no use in arguing. In all likelihood, he knew her words were true and that he couldn’t live up to any unspoken promises of trust. It was better this way.
She pushed herself off the railing. “Thanks for everything. Good night.”
* * *
John watched her walk into her cabin and resisted the urge to ram his fist into the wood. He’d really blown that.
He’d been on the verge of begging for her trust.
Then he’d realized that she was right, she shouldn’t trust him. Alyssa had, and she’d died. He’d let her down in the ultimate way. He should have been around more. He should have done more. He should have been more.
No amount of mourning could change that. He deserved to be alone. That kiss had been a bad idea. It didn’t matter how deeply, how quickly, he’d begun to fall for Samantha. It didn’t matter that she’d stirred up emotions in him that he’d thought were dormant. None of that mattered.
The only important thing was that he couldn’t give her the life she deserved. Because Alyssa had died, he didn’t deserve to live. In the least, he didn’t deserve to live happily.
He’d protect Samantha and Connor. He’d keep them safe. But that was all he could give. Pretending as though anything else was possible would just be setting up all of them for failure.
He stormed to his cabin, scolding himself for forgetting his boundaries.
Now his heart would pay the price.
* * *
The rest of the week passed with a surprising calmness. John never let down his guard, waiting for Billy’s next move. He was sure it would come.
In the meantime, the storm out in the Atlantic had stalled. It was swirling over the ocean, gaining strength with every minute. Everyone on the island was watching closely to see what the nor’easter would do. If the storm did end up coming this way, it would be a whopper. For years, people on the island had feared a big storm eroding their shoreline and wiping out most of the town. John prayed that wouldn’t be the case with this storm.
He paused from putting shingles on one of the cabins and looked out at the remaining cabins. His “investment” was getting closer and closer to a payoff. The reality of how quickly that had happened still amazed him. But between everyone’s hard work, everything was really coming together. Maybe that meant he wouldn’t have to dip into his pension after all.
Right now, Samantha was finishing painting the outsides of the cabins. The insides were all scrubbed clean with fresh coats of paint. They would need to finish restoring some furniture, buy some new curtains and mattresses, maybe some plates. All in all, things were really shaping up.
Of course, when the cabins were done, Samantha would have no reason to stay. She’d be off, looking for the next place to hide. Maybe John should slow down this restoration process... If only he had such luxuries that he could afford to do that.
He hammered another nail into the roof. His kiss with Samantha never strayed far from his mind. He could still feel her soft lips against his. He could still smell her flowery scented shampoo.
He wished that somehow things could be different. That his past wasn’t his past. That her past wasn’t her past.
But, if that were the case, they never would have met.
A squeal in the distance drew his attention. He looked across the shore and saw Connor playing with his buddy, Tanner. He smiled. It was nice to hear the sound of kids playing together. At one time in his life, he’d imagined himself with a whole houseful of munchkins. He’d pictured Christmases and birthday parties and first steps.
But he shouldn’t think about what could have been. Right now, all he needed to concentrate on was keeping Samantha safe. That wouldn’t atone for the mistakes of his past, but it was the right thing to do. It was what he had to do.
It didn’t matter that she’d been distant toward him ever since their kiss. It made sense that she was putting space between them. It’s what anyone in their situation would do.
And sure, he missed their chats. He missed sharing dinner together. But it was better this way. It was better that they didn’t get too close.
He paused from his roof work when his cell phone rang.
He glanced at the number and his heartbeat quickened.
It was his friend from Texas.
“John? I have some news for you about that case you asked me to look into. The one involving Anthony Rogers. Do you think it might have been Anthony Simon instead? All the details fit.”
He’d suspected that Samantha had changed her last name. Anyone on the run would do that. “The one who died in the car accident about a year ago?” John clarified.
“That’s the one,” his friend said. “Hang on to your seat. This is a doozy.”
FOURTEEN
Samantha stopped midstroke as she touched up a baseboard in one of the cabins. Someone was knocking at her door.
“Samantha, it’s me—John.”
As soon as he
said the words, she put the brush down and rushed toward the door. She imagined herself with paint streaks across her cheeks or maybe even in her hair, despite the purple bandanna that she wore.
When she saw John, she sensed he had something to share. She just wasn’t sure if the news was good or bad. She didn’t want to allow herself to hope for a minute that good news might come her way. Instead, she blurted, “What’s wrong?”
“I have something I need to tell you,” John said. “Can you come outside for a moment?”
She nodded. “Of course.”
She stepped onto the porch where it was a little cooler. Samantha looked up at John, curious about the light dancing in his eyes.
This was the first time he’d gone out of his way to talk to her since they’d kissed. In fact, at times it had seemed as if he was avoiding her, and the realization had caused an ache in her heart. She hadn’t understood until now how much his friendship had come to mean to her.
“Something good or bad to tell me?” she finally asked.
“Good.”
“I’d love some good news.” It had been months since she’d gotten any news worth rejoicing over. She leaned against the wood siding behind her and waited.
He put his hands on his hips. “I contacted one of my coast guard buddies down in Texas.”
She tensed even as he said the words. Where was he going with this? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. “Okay....”
He stepped closer. “Listen, I know it was a risky move, but it paid off. It turns out you’re not on any Wanted lists, Samantha.”
She felt the blood drain from her face. A million thoughts rushed through her mind. Most weren’t good. “What do you mean?”
“My friend checked with his sources at the police department. You were cleared about three months ago, Samantha. The police aren’t after you.”
She stood there, speechless, trying to form the right words. When she didn’t say anything, John continued.
“The police are on to Billy. He quit from the department and went on the run. He never joined the FBI.”
Desperate Measures Page 14
