Part 20 (2/2)

”That certainly makes it nice and tidy,” she said, her voice taut with anger. ”You get your revenge,then someone else tidies up the mess. You won't even have to worry about the consequences because you won't be here.”

”I don't think about that part of it.”

Just like a man, she thought grimly. He was doing what he had to do, and d.a.m.n the rest of the world. d.a.m.n what it meant to anyone, especially her.

She wanted to scream at him, to yell until he realized what he was doing was wrong. But it wouldn't do any good. She only knew one way to get his attention.

”What am I supposed to tell Bobby?” she asked. ”How do I explain to him that you murdered his father?”

Jeff glanced down at her. His blue eyes were expressionless, his mouth a straight, forbidding line. ”He'll understand in time.”

”You really think so? Who's going to explain it to him? You're expecting to be dead and frankly, I don't think I'll be in the mood to give him both sides of the argument.” She stared up at him. ”He adores you, Jeff. He listens to everything you say, he tries to walk like you, talk like you. You're everything he wants in a father. How can you do this to him?”

She saw the first flicker of pain behind his cool facade. ”I don't want to hurt him.”

”Then don't. Let it go. Trust the system to handle Kray.”

”The system isn't getting the job done,” he said, the hurt fading. ”I don't have a choice.”

”We all have choices. You want to do this. You want to be the one.”

”You should be pleased. If I succeed, your problems are over with Kray. Have you thought about that?”

She turned away from him. The sand was warm as she s.h.i.+fted her feet. The tide retreated, rus.h.i.+ng only to her toes. ”It's not worth it. I don't want your life to be the price of my freedom. Are you really willing to sacrifice so much for one man?”

”I'm not doing it for me, or even for you.”

She spun back toward him. Her braid flew out and hit her shoulder before brus.h.i.+ng against her back. She stiffened her spine. ”Kray's death won't bring back Jeanne and your son. Nothing will. They're gone. You have to let them find their peace.”

He bent at the waist, bringing his face close to hers. ”You don't know what the h.e.l.l you're talking about.”

If he intended to frighten her, he was doing a good job of it. She wanted to back away from his cold eyes, from the warrior so willing to give his life in the name of the cause. She swallowed hard. ”Would Jeanne want you to do this?”

He thought for a moment,then straightened. ”No.”

”Then why?”

”You don't understand.”

”You're right. I don't. I don't always agree with what our government does in situations like this, but there are rules in place. We can't all do everything we want, all the time. Society doesn't work that way. If you kill Kray, it won't change anything. There will be another crime lord to take his place. Then another. Are you going to hunt them all?”

”They don't matter to me. This is personal.”

”It can't be. The moment you do that, the moment you cross the line and turn your back on everything you've ever believed in and fought for, the second you ignore what you know is right and honorable and good, you become just like him. You'll be Kray. No better, no worse. Exactly equal.”

He was silent. She waited, praying he would see the logic of her argument. There had to be a way to reach him. There had to be another way out of the situation.

He turned and started toward the house. At the pool deck he glanced back at her. She couldn't read his expression. Did he understand what she'd said?

”You can't change my mind,” he said.

”Then you're just like him.”

He looked past her, out to sea. ”I know,” he said at last. ”I know.”

Chapter 13.

Bobby slept on his left side, with the sheet pulled up to his shoulders and the blanket bunched around his feet. His brown hair fell across his forehead and his eyelashes cast shadows on his rosy cheeks.

Jeff stared at the boy and wondered if the child dreamed. Would he think of the games they'd played that day? Of the Frisbee thrown in the suns.h.i.+ne? Of the taste of their dinner? Would he recall the silly jokes and the most recent installment of Echo's adventures in the land of pretend?

Or did Bobby dream of his father? He never mentioned Kray, yet he must have questions. Did he wonder about the man who had stolen him away from his life and all he'd known? Or did he simply trust his mother to make his world right again?

Jeff touched the boy's cheek. His warm, smooth skin reminded him of another child. Of J.J. and of how many times he, Jeff, had come home late and crept into his room to watch his son sleep. Jeanne had often chided him, telling him that the boy was even more interesting when he was awake and perhaps he should try to get home a little earlier. Soon, he'd promised to appease her. Soon.

But he'd waited too long. He'd chased the bad guys and won his citations and he'd thrown away the little time he was to be allowed. When he'd finally realized how much he was missing, it was too late and the boy was gone.

He closed his eyes against the pain, but it didn't help. There was nothing he could do to bring him back. Not even Kray's death would fill that emptiness. G.o.d, he missed his son.

The pain surrounded him, filling him until there was nothing left. Losing a child had to be the worst thing for a parent to experience. At least Jeanne had lived longer; she'd experienced more of what life had to offer. His eyes opened. She'd lived but not enough. Her parents no doubt missed her as much as he missed J.J.

He should have called them more often, he realized. In the past five years he'd cut himself off from his family and hers. He hadn't wanted to talk about the past with anyone. He hadn't wanted to relive those last horrible seconds when the car had blown up. He'd avoided holiday get-togethers. He hadn't even gone to the memorial service.

There had been no bodies to bury, nothing recognizable to be flown home. Both families had put off the memorial service, hoping he would finally be willing to begin the mourning. But he never had. Finally he'd told them to go ahead without him. He'd never gone to see the plaque, or brought flowers. He'd never tried to explain any of what he was feeling to Jeanne's parents or his own. He'd held it all inside, using the rage and pain to feed his hate. Those ugly dark emotions kept him alive. But was it a life? He lived only to kill another. To cross the line and become the enemy.

He stood up and left the bedroom. The hallway was dark. A single light burned in the living room. He paused there and looked around. Bobby's toys were scattered everywhere. A hardback novel had been left open on the coffee table. Andie had been reading earlier. He could hear the faint squeak of the swing on the porch.

If he got out of this alive, if he made it back to the States, he would go to his family and speak with Jeanne's parents. He would visit the plaque with them and talk about what had happened. He would share some happier memories, tell his parents he cared about them and Jeanne's family that she'd always loved them. It was really all they'd wanted to know. When he got home, he would unpack the pictures he kept in boxes and look at them. Maybe then he would be able to recall Jeanne's face.

He'd loved his wife. Their relations.h.i.+p hadn't been perfect, it wasn't what they both wanted it to be, but he had loved her. Almost as much as he'd loved J.J. It would be hard to let go of them, but maybe it was time.

He bent down and picked up a battered action figure. It was amazing what one five-year-old boy could do to a plastic toy in just a couple of days. Bobby was a good kid. Jeff saw a lot of Andie in the boy.

If he got out of this alive- He didn't complete the thought. He didn't have the right. He'd been a jerk from the first moment he'd seen Andie. He'd punished her for having been married to Kray, and for a few other things that weren't her fault. An apology wouldn't make up for what happened in his bed.

He set the toy down. He couldn't let go of the thought. If he got out of this alive, he wanted a second chance. He wanted to find her. Maybe if they both put the past behind them, they could find some common ground. He respected her courage and her strength. He admired the way she admitted her mistakes and refused to take the blame for what wasn't her fault. She wasn't a fool. She was smart, mouthy and gorgeous as h.e.l.l. For some reason that he would never understand, she cared about him.

If he got out of this alive... He shook his head. She would never forgive him, and even if she would, he could never be a part of her life. If Kray's men didn't kill him and the local authorities didn't arrest him, if his own government didn't lock him away, he still would have crossed the line. Once he went to the other side, there was no finding his way back.

He walked out of the living room and onto the porch. The squeak of the swing slowed,then began again. He turned toward the sound. Andie sat in one corner. The seat was wide enough for two, so he settled next to her.

”Is Bobby asleep?” she asked.

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