Part 13 (1/2)
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 p.r.i.c.kling 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 twist 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 gla.s.s 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.