The Only Way Out

by Susan Mallery

  Bobby dropped the bat and yelled. “I hit it Mommy, did you see? I hit it!”

  “Good for you. Now run to first base.”

  Bobby took off as fast as he could. His small feet dug into the sand. He laughed when he reached the base, then looked at her. She glanced at Jeff, but he’d made no move to pick up the ball.

  “Keep going,” she called.

  Bobby started to second. He said something, but she didn’t hear it. She was staring at Jeff. He looked at her son with such an expression of longing, she thought her heart might crack in two. As her child ran the bases, Jeff watched the boy. She knew he wasn’t seeing Bobby at all, but was instead picturing the child he’d lost. The tragedy of it all made her want to cry out against the unfairness. Being with Bobby was hard on Jeff, yet he never let the child know. He was patient and gentle, even thoughtful, bringing back toys from his nocturnal excursion.

  Bobby jumped on the towel that was home base. “I went all the way around,” he said proudly.

  “Good for you,” Andie called, clapping at his accomplishment.

  Jeff shook himself slightly. “Let’s try it again.” When Bobby picked up the bat, Jeff pitched. The boy missed.

  Andie watched Jeff coaching her son. She couldn’t hear anything in his voice or see anything in his expression. He didn’t give away his pain, but he must be feeling it. He hated her, yet took time with her son. He risked his life to get them off the island. He would risk it again, when they were gone, to capture Kray. To bring an evil man to justice. How many times had he faced death for his country?

  Bobby swung and missed again. He didn’t let the boy get frustrated; instead he moved closer and showed him how to swing the bat.

  Andie recognized the feeling that swept over her. Admiration for the man and his courage. If only they’d met under other circumstances. If only he didn’t dislike her quite so much.

  Bobby swung again and missed. “That’s three,” he said and set the bat down. “Mommy, are you going to hit?”

  “Sure.” Andie moved toward the towel that marked home plate. She turned toward Jeff. He stared at her for a long time.

  “Why don’t you pitch to your mom?” he said, handing Bobby the ball.

  Her son grinned and took his place. Jeff moved to the outfield. Andie pushed her glasses up her nose, then picked up the bat.

  “Come on, Bobby,” she called. “Over the plate. Gimme a good one and I’ll hit it clear to the other side of the island.”

  The first pitch was so low, it hit her in the ankle. She jumped, then chased the ball toward the palm trees by the surf. When she grabbed it, she threw it back to Bobby.

  The warm sun felt good on her back. She dug her toes into the sand and bent over the plate. In the background she could hear the humming of insects and the faint call of birds. The pounding of the waves added rhythm to the noises. Bobby pitched again.

  This time the plastic ball came directly toward her. She swung and hit it, sending it over her son’s head toward their imaginary outfield. Jeff took off after the ball. Andie dropped the bat and started for first base.

  “Run, Mom,” Bobby yelled, jumping up and down. “Run fast.”

  She reached the base, then tried to judge the distance to second. Jeff had already collected the ball and was heading toward her. But there was no one for him to throw the ball to. She started running.

  He picked up his pace and angled toward her. They were both aiming for the faded red towel lying in the pale sand. She laughed out loud, wondering how long it had been since she’d just plain had fun.

  “Run, Mom. Catch her, Jeff!”

  Andie stuck her tongue out at her son. “Make up your mind who you’re rooting for.”

  Bobby grinned back.

  Jeff was gaining. He raced toward her, the ball held in his right hand. She thought about diving for the base, then slowed suddenly when Jeff’s expression changed. He stopped running, as if giving her the chance to get to the base first. She didn’t understand why. Then she saw his eyes and the fire flaring there. She became conscious of wearing only a T-shirt over her bathing suit. Her legs were exposed to his hungry gaze. An answering need flickered inside of her.

  His mouth twisted with disgust. She didn’t know if it was at him or herself and she didn’t want to know. The only thing that was clear was that he didn’t want to touch her if he could avoid it.

  “Tag her, Jeff,” Bobby said.

  Jeff took a step toward her, then reached out and brushed her forearm with the ball. She looked down and saw his arousal straining at the front of his shorts. He wanted her. Her thighs quivered with anticipation. She wanted him, too.

  “Jeff?” she whispered.

  “No.” His voice was a low growl. He dropped the ball on the sand. “The last one in the pool has to clean up after dinner.”

  He raced toward the pool, tearing off his T-shirt as he went. Bobby ran after him and jumped in. Her son’s laughter filled the afternoon. She watched them wrestle and play for a while, then went inside. Her body still hummed with awareness. Her skin was hypersensitive, her movements restless. But she would gladly ignore the passion, she thought as she sat in the house alone. The bigger need was for someone to talk to. She was more lonely than she was aroused. She would trade all the desire, even their kiss from the night before, if only Jeff would like her half as much as he wanted her.

  Clouds rolled in through the early evening. By the time the sun set, they obscured the colors on the horizon. Jeff sat on the porch railing, staring out into the darkness. There would be no stars tonight. According to the weather report, the squall would be over quickly. Good news because they would need the light of the moon and the stars tomorrow when they went to meet the boat.

  In just a little over twenty-four hours, Andie and Bobby would be gone. He would be free to get on with his mission. He’d survived worse than this for much longer. He would endure her presence while she was here.

  Through the open windows he could hear muffled conversation, then the faint click as the bedroom door closed. Bobby had been sleepy during dinner, exhausted from his day spent in the pool and playing baseball. Andie walked into the living room, but didn’t join him on the porch. He was grateful. He needed his time in the shadows. Often he dreaded night, knowing the ghosts would join him, but this evening he welcomed their company. He needed them to help him remember.

  He closed his eyes to recall his wife’s face. He could see J.J. laughing, playing, struggling over a big word in the books he was just beginning to read. His son still lived. But Jeanne was gone.

  He thought about their wedding day and how she’d looked in her beautiful long white dress. He could see the shape, but her individual features blurred. He called on other memories—their honeymoon, the time they spent three weeks in London. Buildings, other people, half bits of conversation came into focus, but not her. He’d lost her by betraying her memory. After he’d spent five solitary years mourning her, she was gone.

  He stared at the ocean, comforting himself with the thought that if he survived, he would go home and see her pictures. Then he would remember. He hadn’t brought any with him; he couldn’t risk it. He had no ID, nothing to link him with his real identity. Safer for him if he was caught.

  He grimaced. If he was caught after he killed Kray, he would be shot on the spot and no one would give a damn about who he was. If he was caught before taking care of his enemy, Kray would recognize him instantly and the game would be up. Still, the precautions made him feel better. As if he had a chance.

  “Mommy, I want a glass of water.”

  He heard Andie’s bare feet slap against the wooden floor. “Bobby, it’s late. Go to sleep.”

  “But I want Jeff to tell me a story about Echo. I didn’t dream about him last night and I want to. Can we get a bird when we go home?”

  She laughed softly. “What on earth would you do with a bird?”

  “Teach him to talk.”

  “I think you talk enough for yoursel
f and any three pets. Come on back to bed and I’ll tell you one more story, but that’s all.”

  Their voices faded as they walked down the hallway. Andie Cochran wasn’t anything he’d expected. The flashy bimbo with an eye for wealth didn’t exist. In her place was an intelligent, brave woman who loved her child with all her heart. Despite her fear, she was doing everything she could to bring her kid up safely, without letting the trauma damage him. She had guts. He would give her that. If only she didn’t turn him on.

  He listened to the faint whispers of her story about Echo. Bobby’s questions became fewer, his voice slurred as he drifted off to sleep. Andie returned to the living room. She walked to the front door and paused.

  “Is he asleep?” he asked.

  She stepped outside. “Finally. I don’t know how he can be so tired and still keep on going. I guess he’s afraid of missing something. This is all an exciting adventure to him.”

  “Now that he’s with you.”

  She settled on the swing. He heard the creak of the wooden slats, then the faint brush of her foot on the porch as she pushed off. “Yes, being with me makes a difference.” She sighed. “He won’t talk about what happened with his father. I’m afraid to push him.”

  “Is he acting normal?”

  “Pretty much. I’m hoping all he’s suffered from is homesickness and being scared about being away from me.”

  “Kray’s an animal, but he wouldn’t hurt his heir.”

  “I hope you’re right,” Andie said.

  Jeff shifted on the railing. The porch swing was behind him on his left. If he turned, he would be able to see her. The light from the living room spilled out the windows and would illuminate her face. But he didn’t want to see her. Looking at her would make him think about touching her and being close to her. He would remember last night and their kiss. He would want to apologize for being a jerk. She would touch him then, and he would lose even more of his past. The pain and the memories were all he had left.

  He shouldn’t have kissed her. He shouldn’t have thought about the kiss today when they’d been playing ball. He hadn’t been able to help himself. There was something about her that drew him. He’d never experienced that reaction before. Of course he’d wanted women before, but never to the exclusion of everything else. Never to the point of endangering his sanity and putting the mission in jeopardy. He’d been a faithful husband, if not an especially loving one. Why did this have to be happening now?

  “It looks like it might rain,” she said.

  “It will.”

  “Did you listen to the weather on the radio?”

  He shook his head. “I can smell it.”

  She took a deep breath. “What do you smell?”

  “Moisture.”

  She laughed. “What on earth does moisture smell like? And if you say, ‘Something wet,’ I’ll have to push you off the railing and into the bushes.”

  “You’ll have to trust me on the rain, then.”

  “Okay. How long will the storm last?”

  “It will be gone by morning. Tomorrow night should be clear.”

  “You can tell all that from a smell?”

  He smiled in the darkness. “No, I listened to the radio, too.”

  She shifted on the seat. The chains clinked together. “I’ll be glad to get going,” she said. “This waiting is hard. Yet a part of me wants to just hide out here. I suppose I’m afraid of the unknown.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  He risked glancing at her. She was curled up in a corner of the swing. She’d pulled her knees to her chest. For once, her hair was loose around her shoulders. The long blond strands shimmered in the darkness; the waves from the braids she’d worn caught the living room light. She looked small and defenseless. He wanted to go to her and protect her. Instead, he stayed in place.

  “You’re smart,” he said. “You’ve done as much as you can. With a little luck, you’ll be able to stay hidden.”

  “We’re due for some luck.” She raised her head and stared at him. “I’m sorry about your men.”

  “What men?”

  “The ones you’re with. I’m sure they don’t appreciate having their leader tied up with my problems. Once Bobby and I are gone, you can get on with your mission.”

  “Is that what you think?”

  She nodded. “I know you’re with the government somehow. I don’t want to know anything more, you know, in case I get caught.”

  “You’ve watched too many movies.”

  “You’re not here to arrest Kray?”

  Not exactly. But he couldn’t tell her that. Better if she did think he was part of some secret armed force invading St. Lucas to take her husband away in chains. It was slightly dramatic, but if it helped her sleep at night, she could think what she wanted. He slid off the railing and stood up. He rested one shoulder and hip on the support beam. She was directly in front of him. He couldn’t avoid looking at her, and he didn’t want to.

  She tilted her head and the light caught the side of her face. He could see the first faint lines around her eyes and the perfect arc of her cheekbones. What would she think if she knew the truth? That he was a task force of one. His mission wasn’t to arrest her husband, but to assassinate him. What would she say if she knew he was willing to die to see Kray dead? Would she be relieved, or would she fear him? He was surprised to find he could accept her fears but not her disdain. He’d gotten soft, no doubt about that.

  “I’ll get the job done,” he said at last. “You’ve delayed what needs doing, but that’s all. In the end it won’t make any difference.”

  “I’m glad.” She gave him a half smile. “Isn’t that awful? I want my ex-husband in prison. Not just because he deserves it, but because then Bobby and I will have a chance at life. Have you been after him for a long time?”

  “Years.”

  “So you’ll feel good when the job is finished.”

  Their definitions of “finished” were different. She meant arrested and he meant dead. “Yeah, I’ll be glad.”

  “This is very surreal to me,” she said. “We’re talking about spies and arresting criminals. A month ago my biggest worry was keeping my grades up in law school.”

  He told himself to keep his mouth shut. She didn’t have to know. He opened his mouth to ask about her classes, but instead blurted out, “I might not be here to arrest him.”

  She lowered her feet to the floor and folded her hands on her lap. “I’ve thought of that, too,” she said quietly. “A part of me wants him dead. Now you know the worst there is about me. I wouldn’t be happy if he was killed, but I wouldn’t mourn him.”

  If this was the worst she had to tell him, he had misjudged her. If she was who and what she appeared to be, then she’d been caught up in Kray’s world by mistake. The stories of wild parties, of alcohol and drugs, of using her money from modeling to attract the world’s elite made no sense when he stared at the woman in front of him. Last night she’d implied that the Frenchman who’d betrayed her had been her first lover.

  Jeff had gone through her things while she’d been in the pool with Bobby. She had nothing with her—no prescription drugs, no mysterious bottles. She was too healthy to be living on the edge. His gut told him the truth. He didn’t want to listen, he didn’t want to believe she was other than what he’d been told. Yet he knew. Andie Cochran had been an innocent in a den of wolves.

  “I saw him kill a man,” she said.

  Jeff stared at her. “What?”

  “He shot him, in our apartment in Paris. It was the middle of the afternoon. A Wednesday.” She shook her head. “I remember what I was wearing. Isn’t that the oddest thing? It was a blue suit. Silk, with my pearls. And there wasn’t very much blood. I thought there would be more. I remember thinking the rug would be ruined. But when I finally made myself go in the room later, it was fine. There was only a damp spot, where the stain had been scrubbed away.”

&
nbsp; She spoke the words without feeling, as if she were describing a picture in a book. Her expression was calm. Only her hands gave her away. Her fingers twisted together so tightly, he could see her knuckles getting white.

  Jeff could fill in the details she left out. She must have been horrified. People who lived normal lives couldn’t imagine what went on in the shadows. Violence, fear, cold-blooded reprisals for disobedience. That was Kray’s world.

  “Did he know?” he asked.

  “Yes. We never talked of it, but he knew. I was afraid to leave right away. I thought he would kill me, too. So I stayed for a month. I pretended everything was fine.” She shuddered. “I hated it. Being with him, having him touch me. At night—” She stopped and looked away. “It was difficult.”

  “But he let you go.”

  “I never understood why. I finally gathered my courage and told him I really missed living in the States. It was obvious I wasn’t the right kind of wife for him. I wasn’t ornamental enough. I said it would be best if I went home. He agreed.”

  “Just like that?”

  She nodded slowly. Her long blond hair slipped over her shoulders and concealed her expression. “I spent the first month waiting for a bullet in my back. I figured he had people watching me. I wanted to go to the police and tell them about the man I’d seen shot. But I was afraid.”

  “That’s understandable.”

  “It’s because of Bobby.” She brushed her hair away from her face and looked at him. Her eyes were wide and dark, her mouth trembling. “I knew I was pregnant. My child mattered more than justice. So I kept quiet and Kray let us live.”

  She was asking if she’d done the right thing. Not in so many words, but in the way she stared at him. He didn’t want to get suckered into this. He was having enough trouble maintaining his distance. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to give her a pat on the back. She’d been through a hell of a lot.

  “Bobby’s a great kid,” he said.

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah.”

  She smiled. His gut clenched tight. Before he could recover, she rose to her feet and approached him. He’d thought he would be safe by the railing, but he was wrong. She moved close to him. Her scent surrounded him. Sweet, tempting. When he’d gone through her things, he hadn’t seen any perfume, so the fragrance was uniquely hers.