Brent didn’t say a word, he just watched the sea. After a few minutes Kathy couldn’t bear the silence any longer.
“Do you think we’ll have any trouble finding them?”
“No.”
It was a flat answer. “The Brennans’ boat is a beautiful sixty-five footer. The Cary-Anne.”
“I know, I’ve been on it.”
“Oh,” Kathy murmured, startled. Shanna had never mentioned that her father had gone with her and the Brennans anywhere.
Maybe she didn’t want to talk, after all.
But she didn’t seem able to let anything rest, either. “Brent, are you sure this is all necessary? It’s beginning to sound a little…silly. I really should have radioed to her. If she has heard something, she must be terribly worried. And if—”
She broke off because his eyes were on her, hard, cold, disdaining. “You think that what happened to Johnny Blondell is silly?”
“No, of course not! But even if we say that something is going on, I still don’t understand—”
“Okay, Kathy, listen carefully. Several years ago we were all together as a group, touring South and Central America and the States. We came through customs and Harry Robertson was arrested. The rest of us were furious because musicians seem to get a bad rap to begin with and because—to the best of my knowledge—no one else had had anything to do with it and we all had our private lives, our families and our careers. I felt kind of sorry for Harry because he wouldn’t talk, and because he seemed so afraid, and I remember thinking Harry had been coerced into what he was doing. We couldn’t really help Harry, no one could. He went to prison—he died in prison. Then Larry Jenkins was killed. Then Keith’s wife was killed. Then Johnny Blondell was killed. It seems to me that someone out there thinks we all know something about something, and either they want information no one has been able to give them yet, or they just want anyone who might have any information to be out of the picture. I don’t want to use a radio. I don’t want anyone to know where Shanna is, I don’t want to lead anyone to her.”
“Brent, maybe you should be worrying about Marla Harrington.”
He cast her a glance that sent daggers. “Why?”
“Well, most people would assume that you were involved with her now, I would think.”
He kept watching her. The wind ruffled his drying hair, and he shrugged. “These people aren’t fools. Whoever is doing this is not small time, and not a fool.”
“But we’re divorced—”
“Yes, we’re divorced. The only people who have ever been my family, who could be used as a threat against me, who have really mattered in my life, are you and Shanna. A divorce doesn’t change the past, Kathy. Whoever is up to this surely knows that.”
Despite their tone, his words thrilled her deep inside. Maybe they couldn’t put together the pieces of their lives, but it was exciting, it was wonderful, to hear him say that she was the only woman who had ever really mattered.
“Besides,” he added curtly, somewhat dispelling the moment, “we were married at the time. And you were with me during a part of that tour. You could be a target yourself. I want you and Shanna out of it as fast as possible.”
“So what are you going to do with us?” Kathy inquired sweetly. “I own a business, remember.”
“Patty will run your business for the next few days.”
“Where will I be?”
“I’m going to take you both out to a private airstrip and get you flown far away.”
“We haven’t got our passports.”
“I’ve got a pilot friend who’s going to take you to a retreat in rural Virginia.”
“With some kind of security, I imagine.”
He nodded. Then he grinned at her. “I’ve given a lot of support to one of the senators there and he’s going to see to it that you’ve got lots of protection.”
She threw up her hands. “This is crazy, Brent! You don’t know what is going on. You have no idea of how long it’s going to go on—”
“It doesn’t matter how long it goes on!” he snapped savagely.
“And what are you going to do?”
“Go back. I have to.”
“So this maniac can blow you up, too?”
“So we don’t all have to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders.”
She rose irritably. Maybe he was making sense, she couldn’t tell anymore. But she didn’t want to go to rural Virginia and be a prisoner.
Maybe that wasn’t it. She was very frightened for her daughter, and she did want Shanna in safe hiding as soon as possible. She just didn’t want to go herself. She didn’t want Brent playing cat and mouse, alone, with murderers. Maybe he wouldn’t be alone. Keith Montgomery and the Hicks brothers were still alive and well—and maybe targets, too.
If Brent went to the police, they’d have protection in Miami. And in Miami they had Sam, and her walled estate, and the alarm system.
They…
She didn’t know if he meant to go to the house. He had his own big place on the water, with studio equipment and everything he needed. He didn’t have Sam, though. He would need Sam.
“I’m not sure about this at all, Brent,” she told him.
“What do you mean, you’re not sure about this?” he exploded. “You’ve got to do exactly what I’m telling you.”
“Oh, no, I don’t. We’re divorced, remember. I can do whatever I please.”
“Kathy—”
“Brent!”
He looked as if he was about to leap for her throat. The tiller lay between them.
He clenched his teeth. She saw him fight for control. “Kathy,” he said her name very softly. “You are the most stubborn and obstinate and argumentative woman I have ever met. But you are going to do what I ask you this time, even if I have to tie you hand and foot and mail you north in a box.”
He wasn’t going to lose his temper. He was going to try damned hard not to lose his temper.
She lowered her head, suddenly aware that she wanted him really angry. She wanted him to leap for her, and she wanted the fight and the passion, and she wanted him to know…
She felt warm, flushed, and she realized that she wanted something very much like that last argument between them. She wanted the furious, cutting words, she wanted the tempest.…
And she wanted him to grab her and carry her away and make love to her with that same fury and passion. It was the only way he would ever understand that he hadn’t hurt her. But maybe the pieces couldn’t be put back together again.
Last night had put the longing and the passion and the sweetness and magic back into her heart when she had tried so hard to forget it had all existed. And now, this morning, there was all the anguish again.
She didn’t want to hurt him.…
Yes, she did. She wanted to shake him, and she wanted to make him see that he had been wrong. She wanted him to understand that she had been bleeding deep inside, and that had been why she had filed the papers against him, not because she had ever believed for a minute that what had happened had been his fault.
“We’ll see,” she said sweetly.
“I mean what I’m saying.”
“Are you threatening me?”
“I’m just telling you the situation. Take that however you want to take it.”
“Maybe I’ve got my own ideas on what should be done, and how it should be done, Brent.”
“Damn you, Kathy, you would try the patience of a saint.”
“And you sure as hell aren’t any saint, right?”
“Kathy—”
She leaned close to him and smiled sweetly. “Get this, Brent. I’ll decide what to do with my own life and you haven’t got a single say in it, understand?”
A golden, furious fire leaped into his eyes. She heard the grinding of his teeth and she knew he was going to reach out and wrap his fingers around her arm.
She moved just in time. “I am going to have more coffee. Let me know when you’ve sig
hted the Cary-Anne.”
She spoke hastily and decided on retreat for the moment, tearing down the steps to the cabin below. She paused, gasping for breath, her heart thundering.
What in God’s name was she doing? she asked herself.
She was goading him. Because she wanted him to know…
No, that wasn’t it. She didn’t want to leave him. She loved Virginia, and Patty could take care of business for a few days, and…
She just didn’t want to leave him again. Not now. Not after last night. If she let herself be shipped away, awful things could happen. He could be killed; she might never see him again. And even if he could figure out what was happening and survive it, she still might never see him again. Except at Shanna’s graduation ceremonies, or at her wedding. And they’d both have escorts, and they’d speak casually and politely.…
And it would be as if this thing had never happened between them, as if the full moon hadn’t cast its glow upon them and reminded her that she loved him and that there could never be a love such as they shared for her again.
She inhaled sharply.
Was she trying to get him back? She couldn’t be doing that; she’d be a fool. There had been so much agony between them in the past.
Her heart slammed hard against her chest.
Maybe it was exactly what she was trying to do. She didn’t understand it herself.
Chapter 5
It was still morning when they reached the waters off the Keys. By ten o’clock, Brent could see the Brennans’ beautiful Cary-Anne anchored south of Key Largo. His heart quickened with anxiety, but it seemed that everything was all right. No one had gotten to Shanna. Yet.
He pulled as close as he dared and tossed his anchor. He was going to take the dinghy over. Then he saw that the Cary-Anne was set with her ladders down and her dive flag up. Maybe he’d jump in and swim over, he was so anxious to see Shanna.
But he paused, remembering Kathy, wondering how he had managed to forget her for a moment. He twisted his jaw, thinking he’d like to hog-tie her at that very moment. What the hell had happened? She’d been so reasonable at first. She couldn’t stay—she’d be risking her life. And if anything ever happened to her…
He inhaled and exhaled slowly. If anything ever happened to Kathy, he wouldn’t be able to bear it. Time and distance should have made him stronger where she was concerned. But time and distance hadn’t done a damned thing.
He’d wanted her more last night than he ever had, more than he’d ever wanted any woman, more than he had wanted life itself. Just as he had known from the first time he’d seen her, when they’d both been little more than kids, that he wanted her, and no one else would ever do.
He’d known he loved her, that he’d always love her. Two people couldn’t live as closely and love as intensely for as long as they had and walk away without any emotions remaining. He had believed that the emotions would change, that he could come to care for her in a gentler way.
It hadn’t happened.
He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. It had to happen, because they couldn’t go back. Ever. Because he would never forget her miscarriage, the shock that filled them both, then the terror when it had seemed she would never stop bleeding. He remembered the sounds of the sirens clear as day, he remembered pacing the hospital floor and praying as he had never prayed before that she would live. If God didn’t want them to have any more children, he didn’t give a damn. There were lots of needy children in the world, they could help a few of them. He’d never touch her again, he swore, not in anger, not even in that kind of passion.…
Well, he had. Last night. The desire beneath the starlit heaven had been stronger than memory, stronger even, than a vow.
And now they were fighting again, too. Just as they always did. Only it hadn’t seemed wrong when they had started out. They were both opinionated, stubborn and determined. They’d had an argument walking down the aisle right after their wedding. With his best man and her maid of honor laughing away, he’d had to lift her and practically throw her into the limousine that took them to their reception. Their anger had dissolved into laughter, then kisses, and he carried her away to their honeymoon suite in his arms. It had always seemed it was all right because they had both known the love was there. And that love had carried them through so very much.
He’d had nothing when they married. He’d made it through his tour of duty, then the G.I. Bill had paid for his college, but little else. He’d had only Kathy and his music. Then they’d had Shanna right away. Those years had been a struggle but they’d weathered them together, both getting through school, while he’d started getting a foothold on his career. When success burst upon them, life became good, and a whirl. They still fought wickedly, made up passionately, yet no matter what, they remained the main core of each other’s lives. They’d been so busy, but wherever he went, Kathy usually came along, and Shanna, too. They’d always been a family.
Then they’d had Ryan, and it had seemed that they had everything in life. When they lost Ryan, he’d wondered if they had just had too much. But even then they might have survived. It was just that after this loss, the next baby had meant so very much to Kathy. She’d fallen too quickly into a depression, worrying that the same thing would happen again. She spent hours in the darkness alone.
The doctors had told him he had to shake her out of it. And so he’d snapped at her like a drill sergeant, and he had touched her at last, touched her fury. It had exploded between them and they had argued until he’d dragged her into his arms and into their bed. All the hurt and fury and every other emotion they’d experienced had flared between them, and he had lost control and made love to her fiercely, almost violently. It seemed wonderful right after because she had remained in his arms and they talked again, talked about the new baby, about the future.
But three days later, she had started to scream. And he had burst in upon her to find her in a pool of blood. It hadn’t taken long to realize that they hadn’t just lost another child. He was about to lose her, and it had been his fault, because of his temper.
He opened his eyes and stared at the sun, shimmering hotly, hovering over him. Dear God, what was he doing to himself? He’d broken out in a cold sweat despite the heat of the day; he was shaking.
“Kathy!” he yelled down to the cabin. “We’re here. I’m going over.”
He dived into the water and swam with strong strokes for the Cary-Anne. He reached the ladder and climbed up, his heart hammering as silence seemed to weigh down upon him.
“Shanna!”
He bellowed his daughter’s name, much like an animal in pain. Then he exhaled with relief as he saw her come flying out of the cabin, her blond hair, tied in a ponytail, bouncing behind her. She pitched herself into his arms. “Dad! What are you doing here?”
He hugged her so hard that he felt her squirm beneath his hold, then he released her and framed her face with his hands, trembling inside. “You hadn’t heard anything?” he asked her quickly.
She shook her head, her eyes narrowing with concern. David Brennan was on the deck by then, concern written across his features, too. “Mr. McQueen? You’re all wet. Where the heck did you come from?” He stopped, confused, then added a hasty, “Sir!”
Brent smiled, wondering if this kid was going to be calling him “Dad” one day. There could be lots of worse things, he thought. David Brennan was a sharp kid with a keen mind who happened to love the water and sports a lot, too.
“I came from the Sweet Eden—”
“Mom’s boat?” Shanna shrieked. “Oh, I knew it would happen eventually. I just knew it.”
“No, no, sweetheart, sorry,” he told her softly. “Shanna, David, I’ve got to talk to you both, and to your parents, David. I’ve—”
“Where’s Mom?” Shanna interrupted anxiously.
He smiled. “I didn’t feed her to the sharks, don’t worry,” he assured her. “I’m sure she’ll be over any second now.”
“McQu
een!” By then David’s father, Justin Brennan, had appeared on the deck, a coffee cup in his hand, a broad grin on his face. Brent had hit it off with Justin from the first time they had met, right after their kids had started dating. Justin was a tall, husky guy with white-blond hair and the look of a Viking. He had also served in the army, joined the Dade County Police Force, been shot up badly, then retired. He’d taken to writing police novels, which had gained a steady following. He had reached a point where he always made the best-seller lists. He’d made a small fortune, remained entirely unpretentious and liked nothing more than a day with his family out on his one new toy—the Cary-Anne.
Justin walked across the deck, his hand extended in pleasure. “McQueen, what the hell are you doing here? I’d heard you had some meetings this weekend about a new album.”
“Well, those didn’t quite come off,” Brent explained briefly. Justin’s wife, Reba, was coming up the steps. She was a short, cute woman with dark curls, a beautiful smile and lots of ample curves. “More to love,” her husband always told her affectionately when she worried about her weight.
“Brent!” she said with pleasure, taking his hand. “We hadn’t thought you could make it! How nice to see you. But you’re all wet! Where on earth did you come from?”
Brent grinned. Explaining this situation wasn’t going to be easy. “There’s been some trouble, and I have to take Shanna with me. And yes, Reba, I’m wet, I swam over.”
“From where?”
“From Kathy’s boat.” He started to point to the Sweet Eden, but when he turned his voice died and he forgot what he was saying.
Kathy was just coming out of the water. She had decided to swim over, too. And she had dressed for the occasion.
She was wearing a black-and-teal bikini, a two-piece concoction that seemed to enhance the perfect roundness of her breasts and maybe display just a little too much of them. The bottoms of the suit had those high-cut thighs, and despite her diminutive height, her legs seemed to go on forever beneath them. Her belly was flat and her waist slim, and the little string tie that held the suit together seemed to enhance everything on her body.
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