The Only Way Out

by Susan Mallery

  “You’re a good man, Jeff.”

  He folded his arms over his chest. “Not everyone would agree with you.”

  “They don’t matter.”

  She touched his forearm. Fire singed his skin. Why was she doing this? Why was she tempting him?

  “I know what you’re going through,” she said.

  He doubted that. Andie didn’t have a clue as to his real mission. He was going to kill her ex-husband, no matter what it cost him. She wouldn’t understand that. She would understand it even less if she knew the circumstances that had brought him here.

  “I saw it today,” she said. “When we were playing ball. I lost my parents when I was eighteen. I was devastated. I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a child.”

  Compassion softened her features. He stiffened. He didn’t need her feeling sorry for him, or offering her brand of sympathy. His temper flared. He forced the anger down. It wouldn’t accomplish anything.

  “In time…” she started.

  “What do you know about time?” he asked, his voice low and harsh. “Leave it alone.”

  She was standing too close. He tried to conjure up Jeanne to protect him, but he still couldn’t recall what she looked like. All he could see was Andie.

  “You’re right, I don’t know exactly what you’re going through. But I understand part of it. I was in the car when my parents were killed. I saw them die. I know it’s hard.” Her fingers pressed against his skin. She stared up at him. “I just wanted to thank you for taking the time with Bobby. I know he reminds you of your son. I know—”

  “Lady, you don’t know anything.” Jeff wrenched his arm free of her. His hands curled into fists. The anger burned hotter and became rage. She wanted to care and he wanted her to leave him the hell alone. She was too much. Too feminine, too alive. He couldn’t resist her. He hated them both for that. Guilt swelled inside of him. Not just because it had been his fault his family had been killed but because she was helping him forget. He didn’t want to forget. He wanted to remember forever. If he forgot, they would be truly gone.

  “Jeff.”

  Her beautiful face, her tempting curves all taunted him. She made him want things he’d done without for five years. Not her. Anyone but Kray’s ex-wife.

  “They didn’t die in a car accident,” he said slowly. “It was a car bomb.”

  She stared up at him. “How horrible. I’m so sorry.”

  “Are you?” He grabbed her upper arms and shook her. “Are you really sorry? I’m sure they’ll be grateful to know that. Andie Cochran is sorry. Let’s all give thanks.”

  “Stop it,” she commanded.

  He stopped shaking her, but didn’t let her go. “There’s more. Do you want more to be sorry about?”

  She swallowed. “Let me go.”

  “Not yet.” He moved his head down until their faces were inches apart. “I’d been working on a case. Chasing a criminal. I’d gotten too close. The car bomb was meant for me.”

  She paled under her tan. “No,” she said, trying to pull free. He held on tighter. “No, don’t say that. Don’t tell me that.”

  “It’s true,” he growled.

  She jerked free and covered her ears with her hands. “No,” she said, louder. “Dammit, not that.”

  “Yes, that.” He glared at her. She lowered her hands to her sides. “Kray set the car bomb. Kray killed my wife and child.”

  Chapter 8

  Andie stared at him. The words washed over her, but she didn’t hear them. No, that wasn’t true. She didn’t want to hear them.

  Kray set the car bomb. Kray killed my wife and child.

  She moaned low in her throat. She refused to believe it was true. Not even Kray would be so cruel. Yet, even as she formed the thought, she knew he could and he had. Her ex-husband. The man she’d married. Bobby’s father.

  She turned quickly and stepped off the porch. She walked away from the house and circled around the pool. She moved faster until she was jogging, then running. The clouds were low, the air thick with humidity. There was nowhere to go. Bushes and trees crowded in on both sides. She tripped over something sticking out of the sand and fell to her knees. A sob tore at her.

  “No,” she cried. “Dear God, no.”

  Up ahead she could hear the sound of the waves as they crashed against the shore. The tide was in. She staggered to her feet and ran into the surf.

  Water swirled around her ankles, then up to her calves. It was warm. The white foam clung to her skin. As she sank down, she felt the first drops of rain on her face. She reached up to brush them away and was surprised to feel tears on her cheek.

  Crying would do no good, she told herself, even as the sobs came faster. She caught her breath, trying to stay calm. It was too late. The tears wouldn’t erase the past, but she couldn’t control them anymore. Her stomach heaved. She coughed, then dropped her chin to her chest. The waves slipped over her thighs and her hands.

  The pain started in her chest. She squeezed her eyes tight, but that didn’t stop her from imagining the moment. The flare of the bomb. The small pieces of the car littering the sidewalk. The dead body of a child. Jeff’s son.

  How old had he been when his life had been cut short? What about Jeff’s wife? Had their last words been loving? Had she smiled, knowing she would see her husband soon? Had she died instantly or had she had time to know she would die and her child with her?

  Kray had done it. Andie clutched her hands to her stomach and rocked back and forth. She could see his face. The handsome lines. The brown hair and eyes. He dressed well, walked like an aristocrat, yet he had the soul of the devil.

  Murderer! her mind screamed. Killer of children. Husband. Father. Dear God, she’d made love with a madman. She’d held him and promised to love him forever. She was as guilty as he. The sin was just as much hers. Innocence and foolishness weren’t excuses. She should have known. She should have seen the truth.

  The rain fell harder. She raised her head toward the murky night sky, letting the drops wash away her tears.

  What did the explosion sound like? Did Jeff hear it night after night in his dreams? Did he feel the heat of the fire? Did he hear their screams?

  More tears, more sobs. She cried until she was empty and shaking. She cried until her throat was raw. The guilt, the pain. She would never forget. Never forgive. No wonder he hated her. She was alive, and his wife was dead.

  She rocked back and forth in the surf, holding in the pain. In time it would fade. Even if she held on to it, eventually the edges would be blunted. But she would never forget. Not even after Kray was gone.

  No wonder Jeff had been sent in to capture Kray. He was the best man to lead the team. He wouldn’t let anything get in the way. She stopped moving and stared into the darkness. Only, she’d gotten in the way. She’d interfered when he’d tried to take Kray. Oh, God, why?

  She closed her mind to the questions. It was going to end soon. That was Jeff’s job. It was past time for the killing to stop. She drew in a deep breath and wondered how she would explain this to her son. Bobby hadn’t asked many questions about his father, but he would. How was she supposed to tell him the truth? How was she supposed to tell him about Jeff’s wife and son? What about the other people Kray had murdered? How many families had been destroyed? How many souls waited for revenge?

  She wasn’t sure how long she knelt in the surf. The waves continued to wash over her, the rain fell lightly. Eventually she felt a slight prickling along the back of her neck. She turned and saw Jeff standing by the edge of the sea. It was too dark to see his individual features, but he seemed to be waiting.

  “You all right?” he asked.

  She nodded, then slowly rose to her feet. The white-and-pink romper was wet and clinging to her. The damp edges of her hair stuck to her arms and back. She felt drained.

  She walked toward Jeff. He waited. No wonder he stared at her with contempt. No wonder it hurt him to watch her son laugh and play. What strange twi
st of fate had brought them together? If there was one woman in the world most wrong for him, it was her. Yet he’d promised to get them off the island. He was their only hope.

  When she reached the soft dry sand, she stopped and turned toward him. The faint light from the house didn’t reach this far. She still couldn’t see his face.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. Her voice was low and raspy from her tears. She cleared her throat.

  He didn’t answer. She wanted to touch him and offer comfort, but she had none to give. None that would matter to him, anyway. She understood why he was contemptuous of her. It would have been so easy for him to walk away and leave her on her own. But he hadn’t.

  “I know my apology doesn’t mean anything to you. It can’t bring your wife and son back.” She glanced down, then squeezed the hem of her romper. The wind blew harder now, the rain was more insistent, although still warm. “It must be difficult for you to be with us, knowing we’re alive and they’re not.”

  In the distance came a faint rumble. Jeff turned toward the sound. “The storm is going to get worse,” he said. “We’d better get inside.”

  She didn’t move. “You’re so honorable and good. You probably don’t understand about not recognizing evil until it’s too late.” There were more tears. She hadn’t thought she had any left to cry. She brushed her fingers against her cheeks. “I never meant to be one of the bad guys.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  He grabbed her arm and started toward the house. She let him pull her along. When they reached the porch, she climbed the stairs with him. Once under the protection of the overhead covering, he released her. She stared up at him.

  Now she could see his features. The light from the living room exposed the starkness of his expression and the grim line of his mouth. Something dark and ugly hid in his eyes.

  “If it’s not my fault, why do you blame me?” she asked softly.

  “Because you married him.”

  “I didn’t know.”

  “You should have. You should have made it your business to know.”

  “I just wanted to belong. I just wanted someone to care for me.”

  “You wanted to be taken care of. You wanted the easy way out and you took it. Now you’re paying the price.”

  She struggled hard for control. “No, it wasn’t like that. I really believed I’d found someone I could care about.”

  “That doesn’t say a whole lot about your judgment, does it?”

  “I swear I didn’t know,” she repeated, knowing she would never convince him. “I met him and he was so overwhelming. I didn’t have time to think.”

  “You didn’t want to think.”

  He had her there. “Yes,” she whispered. She brushed her wet hair off of her face. “I wanted to be protected.”

  “We all pay a price for what we want.”

  But he wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was staring past her, toward the storm. She wondered what he saw, what he was thinking, then decided it was best if she didn’t know.

  “If I could change things…” she started.

  “What would you change?” he asked. “What would be different this time?”

  “I would question. I wouldn’t let it happen so fast. I wouldn’t just react to what I was feeling.” Like now. Only, she didn’t say that. She didn’t speak, didn’t dare to breathe. Because, once again, she could feel the heat. The need between them. It frightened her, because he frightened her. He hated her, yet he wanted her.

  Jeff tilted his head back and stepped away from her. Every line of his body screamed his contempt. But that didn’t erase the desire. His gaze narrowed.

  “No,” he growled. “Never.”

  He turned on his heel and walked into the house. Andie stared after him. When he went into his bedroom and closed the door, she leaned against the railing and watched the storm. The rumbles of thunder grew louder. Soon lightning filled the sky. She had to check on her son. If the storm woke him, he would be frightened.

  She went inside. As she walked past Jeff’s closed door, she paused long enough to touch it with her fingertips. He’d risked his life for his enemy’s wife and son. Despite the disdain and the hostile remarks, he was a good man. In the end, it was actions that counted, not words. The measure of a man could be found in what he did, not what he said. Jeff was one of the best.

  She continued down the hall, then peeked into the bedroom. Bobby lay sleeping, unaware of the storm swirling around him. She watched him, praying for his safety. If they could just get off the island, they would have a chance. If…

  As she listened to the thunder and the rain on the roof, she felt strangely calm. They would succeed, because Jeff wasn’t the kind of man who failed. They would escape. She felt it deep inside. For the first time since Kray had stolen her son, she felt hope. And bittersweet longing. After six years of watching her back, after Kray had destroyed her life and her ability to believe, she’d finally found a man worth trusting. A man who made her want what she’d long ago decided she could never have. A man she could care about.

  And for what? He would never look at her with anything but contempt. He would never forgive her for a crime she didn’t commit.

  The deafening blast of the explosion knocked Jeff off his feet. He tried to stand, tried to crawl, but he couldn’t move. It was as if the concussion of the blast had sucked away his mobility along with the air. His chest was tight, his lungs empty. He opened his mouth to scream, but there was no sound. Nothing but the flickering of the flames and the pain.

  He stared at the wreckage, at the burning hulk of metal that had, moments before, held his wife and child. He opened his mouth and this time the scream of pain echoed across time.

  “No!”

  He sat up in bed. Sweat coated his body. He was breathing heavily, his pulse racing. It was just a nightmare. He hadn’t had one in over a year. He knew why it had come back tonight. It was there to punish him for giving in to temptation, for wanting Andie when he should have been mourning his wife.

  He took several deep breaths to calm himself. The storm had abated. The thunder and lightning were gone. All that was left was the gentle rhythm of rain on the roof. He leaned back against the headboard and listened to the sound. Slowly his body returned to normal. Only when his heartbeat slowed did he realize someone was hovering in the hallway.

  In one quick, fluid movement, he reached for the pistol he kept on the nightstand. As he went to grab it, the door opened. He saw the faint gleam of long blond hair. He left the gun in place and rolled back into the center of the bed.

  “What do you want?” he asked coldly.

  She jumped, as if she hadn’t expected him to speak. “I was checking on you. You’ve been having nightmares. I heard you cry out a couple of times.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Do you want a glass of water or something?”

  “I’m not Bobby.”

  “I know, I just thought—”

  She stood partway in the room, yet poised to flee. He knew he was being a jerk, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. The memories of their last conversation crowded around them, filling the room. The harsh words, the ugly truth, her sorrow and apologies.

  In the deepest part of his soul, he knew it wasn’t her fault Jeanne and J.J. were dead. Yet it was easy to blame her. It saved him from blaming himself.

  “What did I say?” he asked.

  She took a step closer. There were a couple of night lights in the hallway. They allowed him to see her shape. She wore an oversize T-shirt that hung to midthigh. He wondered if she wore anything underneath.

  “You called out a few things I couldn’t understand. And a woman’s name.” She hesitated.

  “Jeanne,” he said, then pulled the pillows up behind him and leaned once more against the headboard.

  “Yes, that was it.” Andie folded her arms over her chest. “Is she—Was she your wife?”

  He couldn’t remember her face when he was awake, bu
t he called out her name when he was asleep. “Yes.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  She sighed. “You said that before, but I’m still…I feel responsible somehow. As if I should have been able to prevent it or have known it happened.” She waved one hand in the air. “Sorry is such an inadequate word. There should be a different one for greater tragedies.”

  He understood that. He remembered after the explosion, when he’d finally gone home to the States. His family and Jeanne’s had wanted to talk about what had happened. They’d wanted to hear the details. He’d refused to talk with them about it. He couldn’t bear to remember. They’d all been sorry. He remembered thinking he would be happy never to hear that damn word again.

  “It’s not you,” he said, then wondered why he bothered lying. Some of it was her. Or maybe it was just him. The guilt wasn’t her fault. He was the weak one. He was the one who was having trouble holding on to the past. “It’s this place and the situation.”

  He could lash out and say something ugly, but he didn’t care enough to continue hurting her. Or maybe he cared too much. Maybe her courage and intelligence deserved more. If he believed her, and he had a bad feeling he did, her only crime was that of being young and foolish. She’d married the wrong man. Not for his money or power, but out of ignorance. She’d paid a big price for that already. Maybe he should let it go.

  Even if she wasn’t perfect, she was hardly in Kray’s league. After all, she thought he, Jeff, was here as part of a team to take her ex-husband in. That he was part of a noble, well-thought-out act. Killing someone was never noble. It was ugly and difficult.

  He had no right to judge her, not without first looking at his own situation. If she knew the truth about him, she would take off running in the opposite direction.

  He leaned over and flipped on the small lamp on the nightstand. He squinted against the light. Andie stood just inside the door. She still had her arms folded over her chest. With her short T-shirt exposing her long legs, and her loose hair spilling over her shoulders, she looked like someone posing for a men’s magazine. All soft curves and temptation. Her full mouth was straight, her eyes wide, her expression wary. If she smiled, if she tilted her head and whispered an invitation, there wasn’t a man alive who could resist her.