by Debra Dixon
“Phil doesn’t want her involved, Sully. I made them let me talk to him. He told me to let it go. He doesn’t want her to remember. He doesn’t want us to save him. That’s what he meant.”
“No!” Iris backed away from her like a scalded dog, betrayal in her eyes. “We have to go. You said they’d kill him if you didn’t. I heard you. You said it.”
“Your dad—”
“Needs me. You promised to help me. You said we’d give them anything they wanted. Anything. If I don’t go, they’ll kill him.” Panic fueled Iris’s anger at Jessica’s silence. The sunburn on her cheeks disappeared as emotion reddened her entire face. “You aren’t going to let me help, are you? Are you?”
There was no need to look at Sully again, to ask for support. This decision was hers alone. And the answer was no. How could she give them the child to save the father?
“No, we’ll do it my way.”
“Sully said we can’t fool them. It has to be real.” Iris went to him and begged, “Tell her again. Please. You can make her understand.”
Jessica cut him off. “It won’t make any difference.”
The finality of her tone got through to Iris. She whipped around. In a voice as cruel as anything Jessica had ever used on her own father, Iris said, “If Daddy gets killed, it’s your fault, and I’ll hate you forever.”
“Fair enough.” Jessica refused to crumble. She couldn’t. In forty-five minutes emotions would get her killed. Right now her focus had to be on making those three shots.
“I hate you now.” Iris ran to the spare bedroom and slammed the door so hard that even Jessica’s teeth shook. When the vibration subsided, she let out the breath that she’d been holding.
Jessica wasn’t certain how long she stood there, recovering, before Sully came to her. As he tilted up her chin, she could hear the normal world outside—a car honking in the distance, the Hammonds’ ATV humming, the dog barking as he chased the kids who cut donuts in the sand. All of her life she’d wanted that normalcy. Just a little piece of land somewhere, neighbors.
“You can’t do this either,” he said. “It’s time to call in the professionals. Let them handle it.”
“They are. Don’t you get it yet, Sully? That’s what I am. A professional killer.”
“Stop it, Jessie. You had to kill the man who abducted you, and you had to kill to save Iris. That doesn’t make you a professional.”
“No. What makes me a professional is that I kill for the government. You see, Sully, that’s what I do. That’s what I am. The fairy tale you’ve been spinning about how I sneak into buildings and break codes is a fantasy. The reality is that I kill people. Everyone in Phil’s book kills for the government. I just happen to be the best of the bunch.”
FOURTEEN
Her blunt confession conquered Sully’s denial before he could even voice it. By the end there was no need. Certainty had settled around him like a shroud, swallowing all emotion save the anger. Anger was safe, familiar. Instead of the heat he expected, this anger was cold and bitter in his gut. In his heart.
All the inconsistencies suddenly wove themselves into a pattern. Layers and layers—tough, soft, innocent, deadly. Jessie had played him for a fool from moment one. Always offering just enough to keep him interested, just enough to lead him down the garden path. Finally offering even her virginity. And the hell of it was that she’d never pretended to be innocent. He made that judgment call all by himself.
“Why?” That covered just about everything he wanted to know. He didn’t care where she started.
“Because Phil Munro made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
The last piece of the puzzle slipped into place for Sully. “He found the other kidnapper when the police couldn’t.”
“Bingo. Phil Munro recruited me when I was only twenty years old. He showed me a picture of the second kidnapper. I’ll never forget that face. Then Phil asked me if I wanted to finish it. Such clever wording, don’t you think?”
Sully hated that he understood too clearly how much that could tempt her. Half an hour ago, he’d wanted to get his hands on that man, too, so that it would be over for her. That was before he knew Jessie could damn well take care of herself.
“He may have dangled the carrot,” Sully told her, “but you’re the one who said, ‘Yes.’ ”
“What would you have said, Sully?” Jessica had finally lost some of the tough edge. “Would you have turned the other cheek? I couldn’t. An eye for an eye. A life for a life. Phil sold me a bill of goods about justice, and I bought it. All he wanted was my soul.”
“Every bit of it.”
“No, I kept a piece. At least that’s the lie I told myself. I turned down more jobs than I took. No women. No children. I took out the trash. Drug lords who peddled crack to kids younger than Iris. International terrorists who blew up whatever they felt like, no matter how many innocent people were killed. Cartel enforcers. Trash. The real bad guys the world could live just fine without.”
“What happened? Run out of bullets?”
“Go to hell.”
“You first.” He regretted the words as soon as he said them. By walking into the trap set by Phil’s kidnappers, that’s exactly what she intended to do. “I didn’t mean that.”
“Yes, you did. You hate me for holding up a mirror. We’re not so different, Sully. You hunt the bad guys the same way I did, for the same reasons I did. Except you pin on a badge and let them draw first. I’m not asking you to forgive me. To do that, you’d have to forgive yourself and get rid of all that hate you carry around.”
Jessica crossed her arms and said, “So I’ll give you a simpler choice than forgiving me. Arrest me or get out of my way. I’ve got a job to do, and my lucky gun’s in the other room.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Hide and watch. I know you, too, Sully. I’ve seen you pull back your anger when I’ve given you every reason to shake me. There is a line that you won’t cross. To stop me, Sully, you’re going to have to cross that line. You’re going to have to hurt me, and you can’t do it. You can hurt the bad guys, but you won’t lay a finger on a woman or a child.”
“Don’t count on it.” When she unfolded her arms and took a step, Sully realized that Jessie still didn’t have a clue about him. So he gave her one; one that would stop her cold. “I killed my own father. I think I can handle you.”
Jessica froze, refusing to believe that Sully could be capable of patricide. But everything she knew about him pointed toward that harsh reality—the anger, why his eyes were sometimes cold and unforgiving, why he’d said he had “more to hide than most.” Iris had called him a hunter seeking prey to escape his own darkness. In her heart she knew it was true.
He had killed his father. He offered no explanation, no defense, no emotion. No plea for understanding. Sully hadn’t forgiven himself. He certainly wouldn’t ask it of anyone else.
“I warned you about me, Jessie.”
“Maybe you should have warned your father.” The taunt was out of her mouth before she could censor it—fueled by anger and a betrayal she didn’t even understand.
“I did.” Only the tic in his jaw was at odds with his casual tone. “Right before I shot him, I told him to take his hands off my mother’s neck. He didn’t listen either. Now they’re both dead.”
Jessica closed her eyes against the image of his mother being choked to death in front of him. She knew all about feeling powerless and standing by while someone you loved was killed. As he finished speaking there was no regret, no sadness in his voice. Just the blackness she felt inside him. The same darkness that haunted her in the night. Opening her eyes, she wondered which was worse, which act cost a human being more of their soul—killing with passion and then feeling nothing, or killing without emotion and feeling remorse?
For a second, Jessica’s anger softened, and then she remembered she couldn’t afford weakness. She couldn’t afford to understand. Or care. She didn’t have time to absol
ve him. She had a job to do. Phil needed her. She couldn’t let Sully tangle her up in feelings, or she’d make a mistake. Jessica took another step toward the bedroom and her weapon.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he promised softly as she advanced, the edge in his voice as dangerous as anything she’d ever heard. “I won’t let you.”
“You don’t get a vote. Either hurt me or get out of the way.”
“You’re so sure I won’t?”
“Are you kidding? I know you, Sully. It’s the one thing I am sure of.”
Sully wheeled with her as she brushed past, firing a question. “Is Phil Munro worth dying for?”
She halted with her hand on the doorknob. “Phil gave me back my life when I couldn’t face myself anymore. You don’t just retire from this job, Sully. Your employment is terminated with extreme prejudice. Loose cannons make the agency very unhappy. Phil protected me. He’s the only one who ever has.”
Silently Jessica added, Except you. Even when you didn’t want to protect me, you did. You’re still trying—because you protect people. It’s why you shot your father.
“I won’t leave Phil there to die,” she told him. “I can’t.”
Steeling herself for another confrontation with Iris, Jessica opened the door, expecting Iris to be curled up on the bed and crying into the pillow. Or even to catch her eavesdropping. When she wasn’t there at all, Jessica’s heart leapt into her throat. She walked into the room only far enough to see the window. It was open.
“Oh, my God. Sully!”
He was at the door before she could grab her purse and check for the gun. It was still there. Relief pumped through her for a tiny second. If Iris didn’t have a gun in her hand, maybe they wouldn’t shoot first and ask questions later.
“What?” Sully focused on her, on the gun in her hand, and not the room.
The Colt Python had a skeleton grip—the handles removed to reduce the weight and bulge. The snub barrel .357 magnum wasn’t a toy like the derringer. It was lethal. She realized that seeing the gun in her hand threw Sully. Knowing something intellectually didn’t have the impact of seeing it in living color. A picture was worth a thousand words.
“Iris. She’s gone.” Jessica had to struggle to keep the emotions from welling up and clouding her judgment. “She thinks she can save him.”
“That’s ridiculous.” He scanned the room, finding the window. His face was stony. “Okay, she’s just run away. Probably run home. Even if she overheard us, she doesn’t know where. You haven’t told me.”
Afraid time was rapidly running out Jessica checked her watch, trying to figure how much of a head start Iris had. Then she lifted her eyes to Sully. She needed an anchor right now; she couldn’t lose Iris too.
“I didn’t need to say it today. She overheard me on the phone the night Lincoln died. Even if she didn’t know what it meant then—”
“She sure as hell does now. Where is she going?”
“Landreth’s Marina.”
“Good God, that place is practically rotting into the sea.”
“Can she get there?”
“With her memory, if she’s ever seen a map of the island, she’ll know how to get there. It’s on this side, but we can catch—Damn it all to hell!” Sully spun and headed for the door. An old red four-wheeler was always parked near the side of the Hammond house, half-covered with a tarp. The tarp was still there. A little magnetic key case had been carelessly tossed on top of it. “The ATV we heard earlier.”
The beginnings of panic blossomed in Jessica, but she stated the obvious, hoping it was true. “She can’t outrun us on that. Even spotting her a head start, we can catch her.”
Sully turned toward her and urged her backward, down the steps and toward the cars. “We can’t catch her. She can get there by following the beach line. We have to take the long way. Let’s go.”
She couldn’t think of anyone she’d rather have backing her up, and that scared her almost as much as Iris in the middle of a war zone. “This isn’t going to be clean, Sully.”
His hesitation only lasted a second. “What in life is? How much time do we have before the swap?”
“Maybe twenty-five minutes. How long will it take her?”
“Even if we run every red light, she’ll be there before us. Let’s hope your guys are late.”
“They’re expecting my car,” Jessica said as he veered toward his. Then she slid behind the wheel of the rental sedan, shoving aside her cell phone and turning the key. She had already tucked the gun in the back of her jeans. “These guys are never late. They’re early. I figure one of Phil’s team decided to give himself a promotion by snatching Phil and taking the book.”
“But the suit was tougher than he looked. He wouldn’t give it up.”
“The suit was protecting his child.” She braked at the corner. “Which way is the fastest?”
“Left. Then about six miles to Walker. Go right. What’s the plan?”
“I think there’ll be two at the swap. One in the car with Phil, and one meeting me. We draw first.”
“I’ll take the car. You take the guy in the open.”
“No.” Jessica’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I need you to stay back and take the one I won’t be able to see.”
“A third one?”
“Yeah, we’ll have company. He’ll go for the kidnappers first. Then, he’ll go for me, figuring he has plenty of time. He’ll assume I’m a bleeding heart who’ll stay in the line of fire to help Phil. So you have to get him before he gets me.”
“Company? As in CIA? As in someone better than the fellow they sent after you last night?” Sully asked, and swore when she didn’t answer. “Can this possibly get any worse?”
“Yeah.” Jessica didn’t want to think about it, but it was possible. “They could kill Iris for fun before we get there.”
Iris looked over her shoulder one last time and sighed in relief. If they were coming after her, they would have already caught her. She was safe. They couldn’t stop her from saving her dad.
Sand stung her bare legs and feet occasionally, but she didn’t care. If she got there first, everything would be okay. Jessie didn’t understand. What could happen? It was still daylight. If the kidnappers were going to kill everybody, wouldn’t they have set it up for late at night? When they could get away? Wouldn’t they have picked something besides a boat marina with lots of people?
At the thought of the marina, one of those bad feelings settled in her chest. Even the harmony ball couldn’t dispel the anxiety that became a gnawing force inside her. She couldn’t hear the chime over the rumble of the ATV. Afraid that she was going to be too late, Iris pushed the four-wheeler to go faster.
Jessie made the last turn as Sully pointed. The marina was a straight shot from here. Five more minutes. When he couldn’t stand the silence any longer, Sully asked the question that loomed so large in his mind, “Why did you walk away from it?”
“Because I ran out of bullets,” she echoed cuttingly, but she added, “And hate. I ran out of hate. Except for the little dab I kept for myself for what I had become. I imagine Jenny is so proud of her big sister that she could cry.”
I imagine she is, Sully thought. I always thought your angel was weeping too. How could he walk away from the woman if every time she opened her mouth he bled for her?
“Where is everybody?” Iris whispered as she slowed the four-wheeler to a stop.
She’d never been to this marina, but she’d assumed it would be like the ones on the other end of the island. There should have been a restaurant and a fishing pier and a bait shop. There should have been a big boat supply store and a repair place. People should be coming and going.
Instead there was silence and a sign that tilted at a crazy angle. She rubbed her nose at the smell of dead fish and unkempt beach. Landreth Marina’s floating boat docks jutted out into the small cove like some great sea-creature spine. The dock bays were all but empty, making the long intersecting re
ctangles look more like a convention of flat river barges gone aground. A graduated boardwalk led up the slope of the beach from the docks to the parking lot and a cyclone-fenced business. A faded sign on the shack advertised “Charters—whole day and half” but one of the windows was broken. She didn’t guess they had many customers.
Suddenly she wished she’d taken the time to grab shoes and shorts. Wearing a bathing suit and a T-shirt seemed a stupid choice for rescuing her father. For the first time Iris began to get scared for herself as well as her dad.
Above her she heard the sound of a car, and then she saw the bumper and trunk as it backed into one of the spaces facing the beach. The car wasn’t Sully’s or Jessica’s. It had to be the men who had her father.
“Daddy,” she whispered, her courage returning. Racing up the boardwalk, she thrust the fear away. All she had to do was tell them who she was, and everything was going to be just fine.
When she got to the top of the steps, she realized her mistake.
“Slide down.” Jessica told him. “In case they put a scope on me.”
Sully unholstered his gun and slid down. “I thought your weapon would be a sniper rifle.”
“It’s in the case in the backseat,” she told him, “but it tends to make a kidnapper nervous when you bring a rifle to the party.”
“How about our party crasher? He got one?”
“I doubt it. He’s got multiple moving targets. He’ll want to be close in. He’ll want to hear it go down. Be able to give chase if he misses one. This is a cleanup operation. He can’t afford any missed shots because the angle is wrong.”
“What do you see out there?”
“Not much from this distance. Looks like some kind of boat repair place on the left. No—The sign says something about charters. Couple of cars in the lot. One of them looks like a junker. The other’s a possible. Two men.”
“Iris?”
“No.” Jessica bit her lip until the tears were from pain and not from the hollow fear that ate away her confidence. And then she blinked them away. She couldn’t have them hindering her shot. “But I can’t see the beach. Just the boat docks out in the bay.”
