Part 34 (1/2)

”I won't,” Jane said. She'd depart on her own terms. Alone, just the way she'd arrived that day when she'd foolishly disregarded the skull and crossbones, scoffing at the idea of danger.

He sighed, apparently accepting her stubbornness. ”Fine, then,” he said, his tone disgruntled. Then he rummaged in the bag. ”I was at the mercy of that convenience store a couple of miles away, you understand.”

”If it's one of those icky beef sticks, I'm tossing it over the cliff,” she warned.

”You just stay where you are,” Griffin said. With a little flourish, he presented her with a slender plastic-and-cardboard package.

Jane stared down at the item in her hands. The bright moon was as good as a flashlight. ”A toothbrush?”

”Are you aware you hum when you brush your teeth, honey-pie?”

”The *Happy Birthday' song. Twice. Dentists recommend brus.h.i.+ng the length of time that takes for optimum cleaning.”

He quickly averted his head, but it didn't hide the swift grin.

”Don't laugh at me!”

”It's either that or kiss you, Jane.”

She took a half step away from him. ”None of that, either.”

Still smiling, he pointed to her gift. ”This one's special. You can record any song you like, then listen to your favorite while keeping your dentist happy morning and night.”

”Oh.” Jane regarded it with more interest. ”Clever.”

His hand dipped back in the bag. ”Here.”

Out came a small square of cardboard threaded with a pair of earrings. Pink with purple polka dots, they were probably intended for a child, given the color combination.

”They're bows,” Griffin said. ”You always wear bows.”

She looked up at him. His amazing eyes were focused on her, as if he was trying to read her thoughts. Her feet moved again, taking another step away from him and his piercing gaze. ”Th-thank you,” she said, her voice unsteady.

No man had ever seen so much about her.

He shrugged and then rummaged in the bag. ”Last one.” His hand stilled inside the paper, and he locked eyes with her. ”No matter what happens, Jane, I want you to know...” And then the daredevil reporter seemed to run out of words. Instead of handing over the final gift, he pushed the bag into her hands.

Feeling both curious and oddly cautious, Jane tucked the toothbrush and the earrings into the pockets of her jeans, then reached inside the sack for the next present. Her fingers curled around something plastic and mostly round. Her breath caught in her throat as she drew it out.

A snow globe.

How had he known?

A cheap tourist trinket, it had probably been made thousands and thousands of miles from here but was stamped ”Crescent Cove” on the base. Clutching the bag in one hand, Jane let the globe sit on the shelf of her other palm, ignoring how it trembled. Inside the bubble was a dab of blue ocean and a painted beach. On that sat a little gra.s.s shack beside two palm trees and strung between them was a tiny hammock, upon which reclined an even tinier woman in a yellow bikini.

Griffin gestured at the plastic capsule. ”You have a suit just that color. So it's as if you'll always be here. Forever.”

A p.r.i.c.kle ran across Jane's scalp. Always and forever unable to forget this place or the man she'd fallen in love with. Always and forever wis.h.i.+ng for him, worrying about him, wondering if he ever thought of her with regret. Always and forever his, even if he didn't want her. That wasn't any kind of progress.

Panic clutched her throat and wrapped her ribs with heavy bands.

G.o.d knew what expression overtook her face, because Griffin suddenly started forward. ”Sweetheart...”

But she couldn't be touched by him, she thought in hasty alarm. Not now. Not ever again. Her feet shuffled in retreat and she put out the hand holding the bag to keep him away.

A sudden gust of wind fluttered her hair and caught at the paper. It was torn from her grasp and instinct had her s.n.a.t.c.hing for it. Unsteadied by the sudden move, she took another step back to keep her balance.

Her foot found air. She felt herself going over the ledge.

IN COMBAT, TIME stretched like a child's imagination, allowing in every boogeyman, every monster-under-the-bed, even as one's vision sharpened and dexterity heightened. Griffin's heart knelled like slow thunder as he saw Jane wobble and her body arch over the edge. Fear tasted like ash on his tongue as he lunged for her. Image after image shuffled through his mind as he made the long reach.

Jane plummeting onto sharp rocks, Jane plunging into chilly water and never coming up, Jane falling toward her greatest fear as her body slipped through his hands. She'd go down thinking he'd failed her like every other man in her life.

Your kind always lets go.

But then-miracle!-he caught her upper arm. His fingers closed over her slender biceps, locking them together. Just as he prepared to yank her back to safety, though, he realized that her momentum was too much for him to battle.

In this, the librarian couldn't defy the laws of physics.

They both went over, the ocean a second or two away. But it took a very long time to fall when you'd really rather not.

Enough time for Griffin to realize that Jane wouldn't know to swim away from the rocks to keep from being bashed against them.

Enough time for that thought to plow with the power of an ice-breaking s.h.i.+p through his frozen heart.

Enough time for him to be certain he wouldn't survive one more loss. That he wouldn't survive without her in his life.

Dark, cold water closed over him like a thick shroud. It tried tearing Jane from his grasp, but knowing what was at stake, he hung on to her, kicking powerfully with his legs to take them both away from the dangerous crags. To his surprise, she was kicking too, doing her share, but the unexpected dousing, fully clothed, made it a heavy slog.

For every movement forward, the water washed them back. He'd lost his flip-flops, and he felt the bite of rock on his sole as he pushed off to propel Jane away from danger. ”Let...go!” she gasped out, then coughed. ”Let. Me. Go!”

Let go? He couldn't let go. He'd never let go.

But then she wrenched free of him, and without the hamper of a second body, she started stroking away. Heart pounding in his ears, he followed behind, matching his arm pulls to hers. It wasn't easy getting away from the surf breaking against the bluff. It still fought to wash them back, just as they fought to break from it. He was breathing hard, anxiety taking its toll, and his panic didn't lessen, even when he realized the sh.o.r.eline was a straight shot ahead.

People drowned in bathtubs. In puddles. In their own blood.

Those thoughts were still in his mind as their bellies. .h.i.t sand. They combat crawled and coughed their way onto the beach. Safe.

Lying on the sand beside her, he tried coping with the aftermath of horror and the sharp spike of survival euphoria. And the new sudden yet certain understanding that his life was about to take a drastic turn.

He glanced over when he finally caught his breath. ”We have to talk.”

Then he jerked upright and put his hand on her shoulder. ”Jane!” She was sodden and cold as a corpse, her eyes open and staring straight at the sky. Jesus, was she dead? ”Jane.”

”I'm right here,” she said, sounding slow and drunk. One hand flopped on the sand like a fish. ”Right. Here.”

”Oh, thank G.o.d.” He pulled her into his lap, curled his chilled and wet body over her chilled and wet body. Pressing his cheek to hers, he rocked them a little. He couldn't lose her now.