Broken

by Cynthia Eden

  No, no, no! “Eve!” He swam blindly because the water was so murky there. His hands were reaching out, desperate to find and grasp her.

  What if she’d been hurt by the blast before she went under? What if she were unconscious? She could be drowning while he dicked around out there shouting her name.

  He swam deeper. Harder. His lungs started to burn, but Gabe didn’t care. When he’d been a SEAL, he was trained to stay under during every imaginable condition. He could keep holding his breath. He knew from grim experience that he wouldn’t pass out for a while yet.

  That would give him time to find her. He would find her. Eve. Eve!

  Then he bumped against something soft. Something that reached for him and held on tightly—something precious.

  He locked his arms around her and kicked to the surface. When his head broke from the water, he sucked in a desperate gulp of air, and so did the woman in his arms. Eve choked a bit, but then she was heaving in her breath, gasping desperately and clinging tightly to him. As tightly as he clung to her.

  He managed to fight his way back to the beach, never letting her go, not for an instant.

  When they reached the sand, he heaved them both up on the shore. The scent of fire and gasoline filled the air, and smoke still rose from the boat’s remnants—those that littered the little shore.

  Eve rolled over, laying on her back and still breathing deeply. He leaned over her, pushing her wet hair away from her face. “Are you hurt?” When she didn’t answer fast enough, his hands slid over her, looking for a wound, “Baby, tell me what’s wrong.”

  “I swam.” Her voice was quiet, strangely devoid of emotion. “Until I couldn’t swim any longer. Then I . . . I drowned.”

  What. The. Fuck? “Baby, look at me.”

  She didn’t look. “Then I was a ghost. I walked. I walked and I walked . . . and strangers picked me up. We drove. Just drove . . . because I couldn’t turn back.”

  He caught her chin in his fingers, sending sand sliding over her smooth skin. “Be here, right now, with me.” Because he was afraid that her past had reached out to her. They’d wanted to stir up her memories, but—

  Right now, I need her with me.

  “You didn’t drown. You’re with me.” He leaned over her. Pressed a frantic kiss to her cheek. Her forehead. Her mouth. “You’re with me.” The terror was still with him, too. The gut-wrenching fear that he wouldn’t be able to find her in the water.

  He pressed his forehead to hers. Just held her there for a moment. His fingers were shaking. He’d been through countless battles, faced hell again and again, he’d killed . . .

  And his fingers were shaking because he’d come too close to losing her.

  “Why?” Eve whispered. “Why did he . . . do this?”

  Gabe forced his head to rise. Then he stood, his feet sinking into the sand. He’d lost his shoes somewhere in the water, and his clothes clung tightly to him. “I don’t know.” It sure didn’t fit with the killer’s M.O. “Maybe he knew we’d found Alexa, and he was trying to buy some time in order to escape.”

  She sat up, pulled her knees close to her chest and wrapped her arms around her updrawn legs. “Time to escape?”

  Yes.

  “Did you see his face?” Gabe asked her, because she’d been the first one to spot the guy. He’d only seen the baseball cap and the boat.

  For an instant Eve hesitated, then she shook her head. “I don’t know who he was.”

  But her words . . . they were still too stilted. Is she lying to me? Why would she lie?

  “Do you have your phone?” Eve asked him suddenly. “Can you call for help?”

  He shoved his hand into his pocket. Big surprise . . . the phone was gone, and he doubted the fates would shine on them and his phone would magically wash up on shore. “Help will come,” he said as his gaze slid over the water. The fire had shot plenty of smoke up into the air. Someone would see those black clouds. Someone would come this way.

  It was just a matter of time, time that they didn’t have. Because every moment they spent trapped on that island was time the killer could use to vanish.

  “He’s running because he’s scared,” Gabe said grimly. The lighthouse waited, with Alexa Chambers’s body inside. “He’s been bringing them here. Maybe torturing them here before he dumped their bodies—”

  “But they were alive when they went into the sand.”

  His laugh was cold. “Look around, Eve. There’s sand here. What’s to say he didn’t kill them out here, where no one would see them? Where no one would hear them? Fuck, maybe he dug them up when he was sure they were dead and moved the bodies then.” He didn’t know what the sick freak could be doing.

  But he was going to find out.

  He bent. Caught her hand in his. “Come on.” He hoisted her up in a fast move. There was no way he’d just sit there and wait for help to arrive. Sitting on his ass wasn’t his style.

  “I don’t want to go back.” Eve was still. She’d dug her heels into the sand. Vaguely, he noticed that her shoes were gone, too.

  “We won’t touch the body.” Hell, no, they wouldn’t. He wanted Victoria to work her magic on the victim. “But he could have left something behind in that place.”

  In the distance, thunder rumbled. His head jerked. Way back out over the waves, far past the lighthouse, Gabe thought he saw the flash of lightning. The storm that he’d been warned about? How long did they have before it rolled in?

  “We need to search the lighthouse.” The waves were already getting rougher around them. What if Trey had been right about the storm? If the weather roughened and a depression or a tropical storm came their way, there was no telling what kind of damage might be done to the lighthouse.

  It had withstood storms before, sure, but the ragged appearance of that rocky shore was proof that the lighthouse wouldn’t stand forever.

  “I don’t want to go back.” Eve’s voice was soft and sad. “It’s not what I—I thought.”

  She wasn’t making sense. He turned toward her. There were no marks on her body that he could see, but maybe he’d missed an injury. Carefully, his fingers slid through her wet hair. “Baby, does it hurt?”

  “Yes,” she said, her eyes on him. “It feels as if I’m breaking apart.”

  “Eve?”

  She pulled away from him. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for! You’re just as much of a victim as that woman up there!”

  Eve flinched. “What if I’m not?”

  “I don’t even know what you’re saying.” He grabbed her hand again. He wasn’t about to let her out of his sight or out of his grasp. “Let’s see what we can find in that place.”

  “But help—”

  “Help is coming,” he promised her grimly. “The Coast Guard, the local cops, Wade—someone will be hauling ass out here for us.” But he didn’t tell her about the worry that nagged at his mind.

  Without a boat, they were trapped on that island. Sitting ducks. What if the killer came back? Armed with a gun?

  They had to go back into the lighthouse. It was the only bit of shelter, protection, available to them.

  The door was still open, and as soon as he had Eve inside, Gabe pushed his shoulder against it and strained to close it—not fully, but enough to slow down anyone who might come after them. He would have shut the thing all the way, but the door was already so old that he worried he might just wind up sealing himself and Eve inside—and wouldn’t that be a fucking kick?

  He saw that her stare was on the stairs.

  “Not up there,” he told her, making sure that he brushed his body against hers. He had the weird feeling that Eve was pulling away. Crazy, when she was right in front of him. “I think I saw a room, down below the stairs.” Maybe it had been part of the old lighthouse keeper’s quarters. Maybe it was just a storage room. Either way, he was going in there.

  “I . . . remember being here,” Eve said.

  “He broug
ht you here?” Gabe demanded.

  She was still looking up at those stairs. “I should be afraid.”

  He was afraid. Worried that freak out there would make another attack. I have to protect her.

  “But I’m not.” Her lips pressed together. “And that’s wrong.”

  He shook his head. “Shock and adrenaline. Just trust me, okay? We’ll ride them out together.” Then he pulled her away from the stairs and toward what he thought was a room. Only . . . the door there was stuck, too. Stuck and rusted, and he drove his body into it again and again—

  “Push it at the bottom,” Eve said softly. “The weak spot, near the hinges . . .”

  He looked down, found that spot and heaved. The door opened with a groan.

  The room inside was small, barely five feet long. The only light came from behind them as they crept inside. He saw that there was a map on one wall. “Dauphin Island,” he said, recognizing the shape. He narrowed his eyes, struggling to see in that dim interior. There were scratch marks on the map. Four marks near the area he knew would match with the old golf course. One mark at the fort and . . .

  At least a dozen other little scratch marks, careful X’s all scattered around the island.

  No, the fuck, no.

  Something crashed behind him. He spun around and saw that Eve had bumped into a little table, an old wobbly table that had been crammed into the corner. When he’d come into the room, he’d been so intent on the map that he hadn’t noticed the table.

  A small black box—a jewelry box?—had been on the table, but now it lay smashed on the floor.

  “I—I’m sorry,” Eve stammered as she fell to her knees and grabbed the box. “I didn’t mean to break it!”

  She lifted it up and jewelry came tumbling out. Bracelets. Necklaces. She started to grab for the jewelry, but he lunged forward and caught her wrist in a too-tight grip. “Leave it.”

  Because there could be prints on the jewelry.

  “Is that blood?” Eve asked him, her gaze on a glittering, diamond tennis bracelet.

  “Yes.” Dried blood.

  “Why . . . why are these things here?” Her tortured gaze rose to his. “Why?”

  “Because sometimes killers like to keep trophies from their kills.”

  “There’s too many pieces of jewelry.” Her voice was hushed.

  “Yes.” Too much jewelry, too many tally marks. They’d thought that the Lady Killer had only taken seven victims.

  Are there more?

  “This is why he ran.” Gabe’s words were a growl. “He knew we’d find his little treasure chest, and the bastard is trying to get away.”

  By the time they got back to the Island, he could be long gone.

  “That’s . . . that’s a lot of jewelry.” Eve rose to her feet. Stared down at the gems. There was sorrow on her face. And what looked like guilt. “It’s wrong,” she whispered.

  “Eve?”

  “Maybe it’s better not to remember.” A tear leaked from her eye. “Maybe the doctors were right. Maybe I don’t want to remember.”

  She backed away, trying to rush out of the room, but he grabbed her and held tight.

  “I don’t want to be here!” she nearly yelled. “There’s a dead woman upstairs—a woman who looks too much like me!” Her voice rose more with each word. “Sand came out of her mouth, and I can taste sand on my tongue!”

  “Eve!”

  “That’s not my name!” She shrieked, then froze, her eyes widened in horror.

  He knew then that she was at the edge of her control. The place had obviously brought parts of her past back. Parts that she wanted to face. Parts that she didn’t. “Jessica,” he said softly, but the name rolled awkwardly from him. He didn’t know Jessica. He knew Eve. He’d fucked Eve. Eve had cried out for him. She’d—

  She pulled from him and ran to the front of the lighthouse. “Dammit, stop!” He hadn’t heard a boat approaching, but he hadn’t heard it before, either. He lunged forward and grabbed her from behind, locking his arms around her and pulling Eve back against him. Jessica. Her name is Jessica.

  “I have blood on my hands.” Her voice was so low he could barely hear her. “I can see myself. Running in this lighthouse. There’s blood on my hands . . .”

  “Because he probably brought you here.” Her wet hair was against his mouth. “Baby, he brought you here, but you escaped.”

  “I have the knife. I used it. We were playing a game.”

  “So you got the weapon away from the prick and you stabbed him. Fucking good. Maybe we can get an evidence team out here and they can find his DNA—”

  She shuddered against him. “I was laughing. He was laughing. It’s wrong.”

  His muscles tensed. “What?”

  She heaved against him, trying to break free, but he didn’t let her go.

  “I’m wrong,” she said, her voice lower. “Everything I’m remembering, it’s wrong.” She whispered, “Please, please, let me go. I can’t breathe in here. All I smell is her blood.”

  WADE RAN FOR the police boat that was tied to the edge of the marina.

  “Hurry the hell up!” he shouted to the cop who was trailing him. He hadn’t been able to find Trey—the guy was out somewhere on the island doing a search, and since the cell connection on that place was a crapshoot, he hadn’t wanted to waste time trying to find the man.

  Not when fire had been in the sky.

  “W-We can radio for the Coast Guard. They’ll be able to help us!” Officer Dennis Sebastian said, his words huffing out as he hurried to keep up with Wade.

  Wade jumped onto the police boat. He really didn’t know shit about boats so he needed that guy to get him to the lighthouse.

  Dennis leapt on after him and got the boat moving into the water—hurry, hurry, hurry! Dennis looked like he was in his early twenties, with sun-streaked blond hair, and his hands were shaking as he steered them away from the marina.

  Wade grabbed the radio.

  “You have to get the channel . . .” Dennis quickly pressed some buttons for him and took the radio with one hand. Then he was talking to someone on the emergency channel, telling him about the fire on Sand Island. Asking for all available hands to report to the lighthouse.

  As far as cops went, Wade knew the kid was a good one. He’d been working hard during the case, doing his damnedest and not getting too shaken when he saw the skeleton in the fort’s wall.

  “Make this thing go faster,” Wade ordered him.

  Dennis didn’t question him. His jaw just locked and they went even faster as the boat’s emergency sirens sounded. Good. They would make everyone else get the hell out of their way.

  Hold on, Gabe. I’m coming. He’d let his friend down before, and Wade had sworn that he’d never make that mistake again. He’d seen Gabe hit rock bottom, seen him get lost to rage and despair as he’d held his sister’s broken body. I’m coming, Gabe.

  He grabbed for the binoculars near the steering wheel. They had to go around the side of the island before they’d spit out into the open water that led to the lighthouse. Hurry, hurry . . .

  Water flew around them. Dennis’s hands stayed tight around the wheel.

  The minutes crawled by.

  They passed another boat, one with blue stripes and a blue top that was moving just as hell fast as they were.

  “Johnny!” Dennis yelled. “Get out of the damn way!” But the roar of the motors and the waves snatched away his order.

  The blue-striped boat shot to the left, heading around them and back to the marina.

  “That kid always races too fast,” Dennis said, eyes narrowing as he turned the boat a bit. “He’s gonna kill someone one of these days.”

  Right then, Wade wasn’t concerned with some speeding punk. When they got back, Dennis could put the fear of God into the guy. The only thing that mattered to Wade right then was getting out to that lighthouse and finding out if his best friend was alive or dead.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

 
GABE WAS WATCHING FROM THE LIGHTHOUSE window. Not the top window, because Eve wouldn’t go near Alexa’s body, but from the perch about twenty feet up in the lighthouse.

  He saw the police boat racing toward them with its lights flashing. “The rescue party,” he said. He turned to look at Eve, wanting to reassure her. “We’re getting out of here.”

  She didn’t move.

  “Eve?”

  She’d begged to leave the lighthouse, but . . . but he’d been afraid to put her at risk. He’d had to protect her, and kept her at his side.

  He touched her cheek and found it ice cold. “Baby?”

  He realized that she wasn’t even blinking. Just staring straight ahead. Swearing, he yanked her against him, holding her tightly, rubbing her arms. “It’s all right. Sweetheart, we’re safe, we’re—”

  Eve screamed. A terrible, high-pitched sound, and then she was fighting him. Kicking him. Punching him. Slicing her nails over his face. He let her go because he didn’t want to hurt her, not ever, and Eve spun around. She raced back down the stairs, moving so fast and frantically that he feared she’d fall and break her neck.

  “The rescue boat is here!” He didn’t run after her, not while she was on the stairs. “It’s okay.”

  Eve didn’t stop. She finally reached the bottom of the stairs and then tried to yank the heavy door open.

  “Eve?”

  He made his way down to her. She’d broken her nails—either on the door or on him—and was about to break her fingers as she struggled so hard with the door. “I got it, I’ve got it . . .”

  He pried the door open. Eve raced outside and she ran straight to the water’s edge. For a minute he was afraid that she was going to just jump in and sink—he was ready to leap right after her—but then she stopped. On those rocks, she fell to her knees and her head sagged forward.

  Slowly, because he sure as hell didn’t want to frighten her more, Gabe crept toward her. “You’ll be safe and dry soon.” The rescue boat was only a few hundred yards out.

  “I did it.”

  What memories had come back to her in that place? “What did you do?”

  Her shoulders hunched forward. “I . . . killed someone.”

  He wanted to touch her, but she was already on the edge. “How do you know that?”