Dead Drift

by Dani Pettrey

  Luke frowned at her. “Got what?” he asked.

  “A safe place to stay.” Chris’s lighthouse. It was about as off grid as you could get. Only reachable by boat and providing the ability to see anyone approaching from miles away.

  Why hadn’t she thought of it sooner?

  Maybe because she’d been so shaken up by her home being turned into a thousand little pieces of shrapnel that she plain hadn’t been thinking since—rather, she’d spent the last four days simply reacting.

  “Are you sure?” Luke asked.

  Kate shifted gears, tearing down the road in her Mini Cooper. “Trust me.”

  Perhaps tonight Luke would finally manage to get a few hours of sleep, a few hours of peace in what had been close to eight years of war—maybe not on a battlefield, but a war just the same.

  She drove them along winding back roads, watching his curiosity grow with each turn. To her surprise, he didn’t ask any more questions, just remained silent—watching, waiting, trusting her.

  Reaching the end of the dirt road, she cut the ignition.

  Luke climbed out and surveyed the space. “Well, we certainly weren’t followed.” He turned to her and lifted his chin in question. “You wanna let me in on where we’re headed?”

  Pulling the Maglite from her glove box, she shone it on the rowboat tied at the isolated pier.

  His brows hiked up. “Seriously?”

  “Trust me,” she said.

  “Okay.”

  Warmth filled her despite the brisk breeze rolling across the bay.

  She grabbed the duffel of clothes kindly provided to them by Tanner and Declan, and Luke took it from her with an outstretched hand, hiking it over his shoulder. Tomorrow, she’d grab the rest of her necessities from CCI, though the way things were going, she was due for a shopping spree.

  The rowboat shifted beneath them as they climbed in. They sat facing each other in the center of the two wooden seats to steady its rocking.

  Luke grabbed the oars. “Want to give me a heading?”

  “Start rowing due east.”

  The water rhythmically lapped across the flat face of the oars each time they dipped in and out of the dark water.

  Luke’s breath shone in puffs in the halo of light cast from the Maglite settled between his feet.

  Twenty minutes out, as Luke’s breath clouded in vapor, she bent and lifted the Maglite to reveal a tiny bay island with a small, round lighthouse. “We’re here.”

  Luke tied the boat to the pier and gazed up at the white-and-green lighthouse. “What is this place?”

  “My friend Chris’s second home.”

  “Your friend owns an island and a lighthouse?”

  “Yep. It’s been in her family for generations. The land was originally deeded to one of her ancestors in 1747 by Lord Baltimore. He deeded out several islands, as a matter of fact, two of which are still owned by the original families—Chris’s and Talbot Island.”

  “Interesting.”

  “I know.” She smiled. “The main house is on the barrier island about five nautical miles that way.” She pointed southwest. “After having several shipwrecks on their barrier island, they built the lighthouse. They hired someone to run the lighthouse, and that”—she shone the light at the small, run-down cottage—“belonged to the lightkeeper and his family. Over time a bigger lighthouse was built about a half-dozen nautical miles farther out in the bay, and there was no longer any use for this. It fell out of memory and into disrepair until Chris’s dad died and passed it on to her. She had fond memories of playing pirates here and decided to restore it with her husband. They finished the lighthouse first and are starting on the lightkeeper’s cottage next.”

  She unlocked the lighthouse door and punched a code into the security panel.

  “A security system for a lighthouse?” he asked, clearly impressed.

  “We’ll be safe here for the night.”

  She flipped on the light as they entered, and Luke stared at the full-blown security system, and video monitors showing the entire surrounding area.

  “Chris is upper echelon at a security firm and a complete tech nerd, so let’s just say she’s a little over the top when it comes to security.”

  She led him up the winding wooden stairs, and they moved to the windows, staring in awe at the stars and the sea and God’s magnificent creation.

  The water set her soul at ease, and the line from Horatio Spafford’s “It Is Well with My Soul” rang through her mind. “When sorrows like sea billows roll . . .”

  The ocean had been her gift of solace from God during Luke’s absence. It was where she felt at home—in His arms and on the sea.

  “So, will this do?” she asked Luke as she leaned against the pine railing, praying against all odds that the cop chasing down Lauren had caught her and she was securely behind bars. She doubted it though. They appeared doomed to be targets.

  28

  Luke studied Kate in front of the round window of the lighthouse. Moonlight streaked across her face.

  He drew near. “It’s perfect.”

  “So maybe you’ll actually get a good night’s rest?” she said.

  “What do you mean?” Had she brought them to the secluded safe house so he could rest? And all this time he’d been so thankful she was finally appearing to be taking extra safety precautions for herself.

  She leaned back against the window, the moon illuminating her silhouette, the flame from the lantern she’d lit dancing across her high cheekbones.

  Cheeks he loved to caress, but lately, he’d only been wiping away her tears—tears he’d caused.

  “You’re tired,” she said, her voice sounding sleepier than he felt.

  Being with her in such a remote and stunning place renewed his energy and fueled his longing to be with her. Only her. Always her.

  Katie was a starlit night filled with the bursts of fireflies. She was the pummel and froth of a waterfall booming in his ears, the surge of a plane jetting into the bright blue sky, pressing him back against the seat, his chest tightening with excitement. She was a tender movement of a slow dance on the front porch to the soft melody of crickets. She was every sensation, every good moment, every emotion rolled into one. One person. One love. It was her.

  He’d known it all along, and yet he’d walked away. Talk about the definition of madness.

  It was time to make things right.

  To be right.

  For that to happen, he needed to be at her side.

  Without her, he didn’t exist—not fully, not the way she awakened the light within him. Around her, his every sense was alive and on fire.

  He existed to be at her side. To be one with her.

  She was the piece his soul was missing.

  She pushed off the panel and walked toward him. “Too tired to reply?” she asked softly at his silence.

  “Too mesmerized by you.” She’d always had that effect on him. Ever since he’d first laid eyes on her, he’d been hers.

  She looked down, her hair slipping forward, hiding the blush he knew was creeping across her skin. He knew her, mind and soul. Now, in a moment of perfect clarity, he longed for nothing more than to marry her . . . and soon. Making her fully his, and him fully hers.

  He swallowed and dropped to one knee.

  Her eyes widened. “Wh-what are . . . you . . . doing?”

  “Katie.” He pulled the ring he’d worn for years on the chain around his neck, hidden by dog tags—dog tags of a true friend, one who’d died in front of him in Baghdad.

  He slipped the ring off the chain and offered it to her with a trembling hand. “I bought this the day I left as a promise to myself I’d return and make you my wife. I’ve been married to you this whole time in my mind, but I know there’s so much more to it than that.” He bent his head, praying for the courage to be brutally honest with her. “I promise you, I will leave the Agency as soon as Ebeid is stopped and I know you are safe. Then I am going to marry you.”

>   Her chin jutted up at his bold declaration. “Oh, you are?”

  He stood. “Yes.”

  She shook her head and moved to turn.

  He tugged her arm, wrapping her into his hold. He backed her up against the window, unwilling to let her pull away or shut down. “I know there’s a part of you that hates me, and you have good reason.”

  She sighed and looked down.

  He tipped her chin up, unwilling to let her hide any longer. It was time to have this out. He was a man of action, after all, and he desperately needed to get this off his chest.

  “But,” he said, softening his voice, “I also know you love me.”

  Her jaw shifted. “Someone thinks highly of himself.”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.” Kate was never one to lie. Never had been. It was one of his favorite qualities about her.

  She nibbled the corner of her lip. “You’re awfully confident for a man I slapped not too long ago.”

  She held true. Not lying. Not denying. Only attempting to misdirect.

  “Only a woman still in love would be that angry.”

  She laughed. “That’s your reasoning?”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “What does it matter? I won’t marry you.”

  “But you love me.”

  “I loved you then, and look where it got me.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “And it will take the rest of our lives for me to make things right, but please, Katie, give me the chance. I’m only asking for the chance.”

  “You’re asking me to risk my heart getting pummeled again.”

  “Your heart is already pummeled because of me.” He rested his hands over hers, intertwining their fingers. “Now let me do the right thing for once and start mending it.”

  She sniffed back tears. “And how do you plan to do that?”

  “One kiss at a time.” He nudged her nose with his, brushed his mouth along her hair to hover over her ear, and whispered, “Let me love you, Gracie.”

  She swallowed. “You’re not fighting fair.”

  “Darling, I will fight however hard, fierce, and long it takes to have you back in my arms forever. Marry me, Gracie.”

  She didn’t move, not a single inch, just remained in his embrace, tears streaming down her cheeks, her heart thumping against his rib cage, her breath tickling his neck.

  “I love you, Katie,” he murmured, his forehead resting against hers.

  “I love you too,” she said between sobs.

  He nearly collapsed to his knees in relief. Thank you, Lord.

  He pulled her tighter to him, kissing her forehead, the tip of her nose . . . grazing her neck and earlobe before bringing his mouth to hers.

  He stepped back, but only long enough to lift her hand, ready to slip the ring on, but she pulled back.

  “Whoa!”

  His stomach dropped. “I don’t understand.” She’d just said she loved him.

  “Let’s get through this alive first. You officially leave the Agency, we spend some quality time together, and then I’ll marry you.”

  “Fair enough. But will you please let me place this ring on your finger as a sign of my promise? I’ve been waiting more than seven years to do so.”

  “And I’ve been waiting more than seven years for you to do it.” Shaking, she held out her hand, and he slid the solitaire diamond on her ring finger, inexpressible joy flooding him. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to take her and disappear, leave everything behind, but he knew Ebeid would never stop. It was up to him—he truly believed God had chosen him to bring Ebeid down. But afterward he would stand at the end of the aisle, awaiting his bride. Awaiting Katie.

  He clasped her hand as he rested it against his chest, feeling the ring on her finger, finally where it belonged. He knew all the hurt he’d caused wouldn’t magically be erased, knew it would be years for the wounds he’d inflicted to heal.

  Still floored Katie had agreed to join him on that healing journey, he uttered another prayer of thanks.

  It seemed too good to be true, and suddenly the immense fear of losing her knocked the breath from his lungs.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked as he tensed.

  Just terrified of losing what I love most. “Just anxious to get Ebeid behind bars.”

  She nestled back against him. “We’ll get him. All of us together. I trust God will equip us to prevail.”

  But how long would it take, and how many more lives would it cost?

  She tensed.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked this time.

  “Nothing. Just want to show you something . . .”

  She reached for her shirt.

  He arched his brows.

  “My tattoo,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “You’re finally going to let me see it?”

  “Since we’re going to get married, it only seems appropriate.” She smiled and tugged down the neck of her shirt, scooting back against him so he could look.

  He smiled. It was a beautiful conch shell, but it was what nestled inside that brought joy to his soul—a starfish—just like the ring he’d given her back in college.

  She turned back to face him. “I wanted something that tied me to you in a tangible way, because I knew whether you stayed or left after this mission that you’d always be a part of me.” She cupped his cheek, her hand warm. “The best part of me.”

  “I don’t know about that.” He’d messed up so much.

  She held his jaw firm, keeping his gaze locked on hers. “I do,” she said, lowering her pink lips to his.

  Hours later, torn between the bliss of Katie back in his arms and the reality they faced with Ebeid, Luke sat on the futon with Katie asleep beside him. The two had argued over who would take the bed, neither relenting, so they’d ended up sitting there, feet propped up on the coffee table, each trying to outlast the other.

  Finally, his head bobbed, his eyes closed, and his mind drifted to the vivid image of bodies littering the ground. The image continued flashing as the nightmare shifted to fully engulf his mind.

  He walked through a silent park, choking on the anthrax-filled air. He couldn’t see the spores, but he knew Ebeid had won. He walked by his friends’ bodies one by one, his soul crushing tighter and smaller with each body.

  Declan. Parker. Griffin. Finley. Avery. Tanner.

  And there at the end stood Kate, her back to him.

  Relief washed over him. She was still standing.

  He called her name, and she turned, her abdomen covered with blood. Ebeid stood behind her laughing, gun still in hand. “A loved one for a loved one,” he said as Luke lunged forward, jolting awake.

  “What’s wrong?” Kate asked, tumbling to the floor.

  “Sorry.” He reached down and lifted her back up on the futon as the sunrise gleamed streaming shafts across the pine floor.

  He swallowed, his skin clammy, his hair drenched in a cold sweat. “Nothing,” he said, trying to shake out of it. “Just a bad dream.”

  And yet . . . it felt so real. Every detail nearly tactile—vivid and eerily present.

  “A loved one for a loved one.”

  Was his dream a message from God? What had Ebeid been talking about? Had he lost someone he loved? Had their background report on him missed something . . . or someone?

  Could that be fueling his actions and the impending attack?

  He raked a hand through his hair as Kate did the same to hers, both disheveled. Despite Kate’s wish for him to grab some sleep, he’d planned to stay awake and alert, but sleep had overcome him all the same. Unfortunately, rather than getting a good night’s rest, he’d had a horrific nightmare, and Kate, by the way she was tenderly moving, had a serious kink in her neck.

  “Kink?” he asked, walking over to her as she stood and stretched.

  “Yeah.” She nodded, then winced with the motion.

  “Here.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Let me help.” It didn’t take long for his finger
s to feel the knot at the base of her neck. Gently, he applied pressure.

  “Thanks.” She remained still, pliable to his touch, but fear tugged at him, pricking his subconscious. He had Katie back. What would he do if Ebeid took her away?

  Please, Lord, don’t let Ebeid take her away. Don’t let me lose her. Not again.

  Even if he’d chosen to leave the first time, he’d still lost the woman he loved for seven years—all because of his desire to serve his country and to see Ebeid brought down. But when was enough, enough?

  Not yet, God whispered. I have chosen you. You will overcome. Trust me.

  But what more might he lose in the process?

  Katie shifted as he found another knot in her shoulder, and he lessened the pressure.

  He’d promised to give all to God, to not hold anything back. If God was calling him to this battle, to face this Goliath, he had to do so, even if it meant death.

  He thought of King David, so fearless for his age and stature, but he knew God had chosen him. He thought of the fear Joseph must have felt being dragged away from everything and everyone he loved to be sold into slavery, and yet God had raised him up and used him to save His people.

  He was hardly comparing himself with David or Joseph, but God had entrusted this fight to him. He knew that as surely as he knew of God’s love for him. Even now, even after all the compromises, God’s love held strong. It was an anchor in the storm. His anchor. It’d taken reentering his old life for God to finally break through his thick skull, but He’d done so. He’d revealed how strong His love remained for Luke. How strong it had always been.

  Thank you, Lord, for your patience with me, for never ceasing to love me. Please equip me to serve you wholly. I pray I make it through this mission, and that I get to spend my life by Kate’s side. Amen.

  Kate moved away from his massage and turned to him, studied him.

  “Sorry, I was just . . .”

  “I know you’ll say ‘distracted,’ but I don’t think that’s it.”

  She knew him well.

  “Oh?”

  “No. You were thinking deeply.”

  “And praying.”

  She smiled.

  “What?”

  “I didn’t know. . . . You’ve been gone so long, I didn’t know—”