Someone, probably teenagers, had built the shack years ago as an overnight camping spot, a getaway from parent supervision. If an empty coffee can, cigarette butts, a newish ace of spades, and the folded blue tarp on the floor were any indication, the island still served that purpose.
Rain dripped through in the far corner but the floor slanted enough that water drained between the floor boards there. Otherwise the roof—which had new but mismatched shingles—offered the protection they needed.
She searched in the emergency kit and set to work making herself useful.
*****
Jake fired off a flare but the red sizzle disappeared in the gray curtain of rain and fog.
Useless damn thing.
He’d have to wait until the rain stopped to try again. Hell fucking damn. He should’ve foreseen another attack, prepared for something like this. Keeping Lani with him didn’t keep her safe, as he’d feared. His belly roiled. The killer probably now had them both in his crosshairs.
His chest had tightened when he turned to see Lani stroking steadily, like a Channel swimmer, with the tide and the cold water depleting her strength. He sent up a silent prayer of thanks as he caught her arm. Man, she was game, strong and determined. Braver than him. No wonder she’d been able to drag Gail out of a burning barn.
He stumbled back to the shack in full darkness and pounding rain. When he pushed open the door, he found Lani had made the best of a worst-case scenario.
She was amazin. The battery lantern from his kit spread a halo of light on her, sitting cross legged on a tarpaulin. On the threadbare tarp were supplies from his kit—two of the energy bars, two bottles of water, the flashlight, and the space blanket.
She tossed him the other super-towel.
“Thanks.” He shed his sneakers and dried off. Only then realized he was shivering. “I have three more flares but they’re useless in this weather. I’ll have to wait until the rain stops. You okay?”
“Sure, just big-time pissed. Again.” She folded her arms and tilted her head. She was beautiful, dark hair loose and clinging to her neck. “The poor Amy Jo. That wasn’t just an old tub springing a leak, was it?”
Hunkering down beside her, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Not with that thumping noise. We didn’t hit anything. I’m guessing our bad guy made use of his stash of C-4 again.”
“A bomb,” she whispered shakily. “On a timer?”
“Sounds about right. Maybe attached to the hull while we were at the festivities.” Which was most of the day. “Padlock was still intact. So were my other security measures. Any bomb on that part of the hull had to be attached by a diver. The process would take too long without breathing equipment.”
She absorbed that for a minute. “The life raft was no good but you locked it back up.”
“The rip in it was no accident. A slice by a sharp knife. When the boat’s raised, that slit will be evidence. The radio didn’t die a natural death either. Son of a bitch yanked the wires loose.”
“But who knew we’d be going out in the boat tonight?”
“No one. We didn’t decide until after we left the fair. On second thought, the device could’ve been there for a couple days. You can do almost anything with electronics if you know what you’re doing. Whoever did this could’ve watched and started the timer after we left the harbor. Or set it up to be activated by the engine’s vibrations.”
“Any of our suspects could be divers. We can figure that out when we’re rescued. Who might know that much about electronics or explosives?”
A gust of wind flung waves of rain onto the shack’s roof. The thrown-together building trembled but held.
He wagged his head. “More than you think. Construction crews need to blast granite ledge for foundations. Even Kevin must know how to control the timing.”
“Then Brandon should be included in that list. He could’ve attached the bomb before he was arrested. I don’t know about the harbormaster.”
“Don’t count out Mike Spear or Steve Quimby. Both of them work with construction supply outlets. That might include knowledge of explosives.”
“As you so helpfully pointed out to me, you can find out on the Internet how to make a bomb. But timing the explosive tonight means whoever it is wanted to kill us both. Our bad guy is targeting you as well as me. We’ve both asked too many questions.”
“Agreed.” His whole body sagged. “I sent some information to Robichaud, but all our notes are at the bottom of the bay.”
“Our printouts and in my laptop. Do you suppose a tech wizard can retrieve my student progress charts from a wet hard drive?” Lani’s eyes flashed with fury. “I will dry off, but someone’s gonna pay for that.”
He pounded a fist on the floor. “Keeping you with me to protect you, I only endangered you more.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s freaking all your fault, Jake Wescott. Trying to find Gail’s killer just puts everyone in danger. You should just go back to Boston and forget the whole damn thing. Never mind the murderer should be caught and punished.” She rolled her eyes.
In spite of himself, he had to grin. “Message received. But if you’d stayed in town, you’d be enjoying the fireworks, not stuck out here in a leaky shed.”
“I’d rather swim back to the mainland than watch fireworks.”
Her shudder reminded him how traumatized the barn fire had left her. How she’d frozen at the sight of the smoldering cat. Her nightmares seemed to have fled since they’d been sleeping together but the fear remained. Probably always would linger in the recesses of her mind.
Her fierce expression softened. “And I’d rather be stuck out here with you than be worrying about you.”
He scooted closer and curved an arm around her shoulders. Rain clattered harder on the shingled roof. “I’ll have to phone Uncle Joe tomorrow to tell him about the Amy Jo.”
“I’m sorry about your uncle’s boat.”
“Insurance should help him recoup the loss. I doubt he’d have gotten much for it anyway.” Inhaling the scent of Lani’s hair and feeling her softness made him prefer to forget he’d just lost his home. When she shivered for the fourth time, he said, “We should get out of these wet clothes and warm each other up.”
She tilted her head and pursed her lips. “You wouldn’t try anything, would you, Wescott?” Her eyes looked hopeful.
He affected a who, me? expression. “My intentions are pure, Cameron. I’m worried about a certain woman jumping my bones.”
She laughed and started peeling off her sopping jeans.
Soon they were down to skin. Their clothing hung from nails on the walls or lay spread out on the hard floor. He stretched out and she lay beside him under the crinkly blanket. Orange polyester on one side and aluminum sheeting on the other, the emergency blanket wasn’t soft or warm. Instead it formed a reflective barrier to retain body heat.
“Survival blanket. I learned about these when I took a safety course for teacher recertification credit,” Lani said, running her hand over the blanket’s slick surface. “I don’t know how good this one is. Feels chilly so far.”
Jake smiled. “We need to increase our body heat. I have just the way.”
“That should work.” She turned her head and met his mouth.
Chapter 24
Jake snugged her closer and nuzzled her ear, enjoying her sweet scent, laced with a salty tang. Sweet and salty. Like Lani herself.
When her index finger trailed a sizzling fuse down his chest to his navel, he drew back, sucking in a breath. His heart raced, but the cloud of doubt in her eyes snagged him. The past few days but he’d been so hot for her he didn’t think at all, knew only burning fever. He should’ve paid more attention to her belief she didn’t measure up to her sister. Greedy bastard.
He had to clasp her shoulders to stop his hands from shaking with need. He should’ve said this sooner. “Lani, I sure as hell know you’re not Gail. I never wanted Gail the way I want you. Whatever I wanted when I was a boy isn’t w
hat—or who—I want now.”
“I want you too. I wanted you back then.” With a smile as seductive as Eve’s, she kissed him again and his heart turned over.
He exhaled the breath he’d been holding. Rolling atop her, he trapped her between his arms. “I want to take it slowly tonight. I want a leisurely journey of anticipation, but you make restraint near impossible.”
“Well, then. The challenge is on.”
Her flirtatious air softened as his index finger traced the plump upper curves of her breasts. She sucked in a breath when he stroked one nipple to pebbled arousal.
He bent to her left breast, and the right, first brushing his lips over the peaked nipples, then laving and tasting the salty coating and unique taste of her skin.
When he opened his mouth and suckled her, she arched upward with a small cry of pleasure. He kissed down to her flat stomach. Dizziness pulsed in his head, in his loins. In his heart. His need for her overwhelmed him.
That she trusted him touched him more deeply than her desire for him. Lani had journeyed from fearing his intentions to reliance on his skills and honor and finally to trust. In spite of the doubts remaining between them and the danger facing them, she opened herself to him. It humbled him.
She opened her arms. He craved her with an ache as powerful as a fever. “Sure you still want to take your time?”
He donned protection so fast she laughed.
“You had a condom in your pocket?”
“With you, I need to be prepared at all times.”
She laughed again until he silenced her with his mouth. They kissed with all the hunger and passion and intensity in their souls. He stroked her body as she moved beneath him and their insulating cover crinkled and slid off.
She caressed his skin, traced the contours of his muscles and rubbed his sensitive nipples until he ground his teeth. She kissed him as if he was the hottest guy on the planet and they weren’t lying on a plank floor in a cold, damp shack. As if she couldn’t help herself. As if he was the only thing in her world.
Hell. He’d never been anything special. She was the one who was special. She made him feel like the king of the world. As if he could give her everything, do anything, be anything. With her, for her. If only he could live up to the way she made him feel.
He murmured with excitement and turned for better access to her. He massaged between her legs, first in gentle circles, then deeply.
Moaning, she reached for him, explored and circled, cupping him and stroking him. “Now, Jake, now.”
When they joined, he groaned at the exquisite sensation. Slowly, he pushed deeper, and the wonder of it, the joy of the deep oneness he felt with her stilled him. Stunned him. Awed him. She locked her legs around him. Ancient rhythms rocked them, and they kissed endlessly as the need for release built.
He stiffened, fire surging in his blood, poised on the edge, straining to hold back until she joined him. And then she cried out, her strong legs gripping him, her body rippling beneath him, and he joined her in release.
Afterward when they found the space blanket kicked against the far wall, they laughed. He retrieved it and doused the lantern. Holding each other beneath its reflective warmth, they talked in the dark.
“Your student charts,” he said, relishing the tickle of her hair on his chin, “do you have hard copies?”
She sighed. “Doubles. In each student’s file and my working copies. But losing the computer file means filling in new forms and starting from scratch. I’ll manage.”
“All may not be lost. Hard drives are glass, enclosed in plastic. Your student data and some of our notes may be retrievable.”
She gazed up at him. “Small comfort at the moment, but thanks.”
He urged her to tell him more about her students. Some she couldn’t help, and those tore at her heart but she smiled at her successes. A learning disabled boy named Scott whose reading and spelling struggles had led to anger issues. Sometimes he just needed a place where he could be quiet, she said. Her resource room offered him that space. A girl named Joy with ADHD who daily lost pens and pencils, books, and lunch money had resisted help but finally accepted her as “manager.” And a boy named Michael with cerebral palsy, who could barely make his speech understood and used a walker but who wrote beautiful poetry on the computer.
“You’re amazing, honey. But it shouldn’t surprise me you can reach insecure kids.”
“You’re amazing too,” she said, dropping a kiss on his chest. “You’ve saved my life several times, maybe some we don’t even know about. Not being able to protect anyone is a load of crap. Why don’t you tell me about what happened in New Hampshire?”
Maybe it was being cocooned in the dark beneath the emergency blanket, or maybe it was Lani’s gentle hand on his body. But he began talking.
“Some kids on ATVs saw tire tracks leading to a defunct old sawmill outside the little burg of Grafton. Out in nowhere. The local cop knew to be on the lookout, passed on the info to the task force. The place didn’t seem to be guarded so no raid, only a scouting mission to check out the site. Maria Soriano was my only partner that day.”
“ATF or DEA?” she asked.
“ATF. We’d worked together before. Were friends. I’d been to her house for cookouts, played golf with her husband.” He sucked in a breath as he allowed himself to think about Tom’s grief. About their two daughters.
“Anyway. We left our car in some bushes on a side road. Checked the woods and made sure the place was really deserted. Found the tire tracks and where some big crates had been stored inside but nothing incriminating.” He could smell the moldy sawdust clumped on the floor and oily residue on the machinery, hear the skitter of rats in the corners.
“When we gave it up as a bad tip, we headed back to the car. Soriano—” calling her Maria made the telling too painfully personal “—went ahead of me to check under the car for explosives while I stood watch. Standard procedure. But the weeds underfoot were wet and she slipped. Grabbed for the door handle to break her fall. The car exploded in a ball of flame and shooting shrapnel. She was killed instantly.”
“Oh, God, Jake, I’m so sorry. And you?” Her hand pressed the leg scar.
“The blast threw me back into the trees. The only reason I didn’t die, I guess. Knocked me out cold. Jagged metal from the car impaled my leg. Lucky I didn’t bleed out. Either the smugglers had just returned or the whole thing was a trap. When we didn’t report in, the task force sent help.”
“You were partners. You weren’t responsible for what happened. It could’ve as easily been you.”
“That’s what the task-force leader said.” The words hadn’t helped then, but for some reason, hearing them from Lani did.
“You can’t help trying to protect everyone, but try not to feel responsible for everything that goes wrong.” She smiled. “Unless you want to try to take responsibility for all that goes right.” She kissed him, first on the jagged scar, then on the lips, before vowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep. In moments she was breathing evenly, head pillowed on his left arm.
He lay back, head on his linked hands, careful not to disturb her. He listened to the rain drumming on the roof, every rat-tat a reproach. The boat sabotage meant they had concrete evidence proving the attacks on Lani, and now him. The time they had together was coming to an end, and soon. Every day spent together, every time she made him smile or laugh, every time they held each other made that harder to imagine. He’d wanted to avoid getting involved, afraid he’d fail her. She’d pointed out he saved her life more than once already. But he was still afraid. Look how close they came tonight.
Now that he’d acknowledged his feelings for her weren’t fleeting, what the hell was he going to do about it? If he lived to do something about it. If he could do something about it.
The bomber might come around in the morning looking for debris and bodies. Jake had his sidearm, a multi-tool, and a couple of flares. Hardly enough if their attacker had major firepower
.
*****
Lani woke to silence except for the squawk of a seagull. No rain. Thank goodness. The front had swirled on to torment tourists Down-East. She tried to finger-comb her hair but dried salt held a shape better than industrial-strength hairspray. It didn’t bear thinking about how she must look since she could do nothing about it.
She struggled into her still-damp jeans. “Yow, these feel like an evil laundry demon starched and sprinkled them with gravel for extra abrasion.”
“I wouldn’t want to be our mad bomber when you get in his face.” Jake chuckled as he too did battle with his stiff jeans. His salt-crusted hair stood up on end as if the sight of her witchy hair terrified him.
Crap, still no coverage on either cell phone. She could no longer blame the weather. Both phones’ batteries were too weak. They ate the last of the energy bars and shared a bottle of water, careful to preserve the other in case they had to wait a long time for rescue. Lobstermen and others fishing should be out and about by dawn.
She donned her life vest—the bright yellow should make them more visible—and joined Jake outside as he prepared to send up a flare. The lifting fog revealed swatches of blue overhead and splashes of green on the mainland. At low tide, the water spread out as smooth and shiny as new paint.
Her gaze went to Jake as if on a homing device, to the tense set of his lean jaw, to the determined set of his wide shoulders. Last night he’d been different, more contemplative and intense. Thanks to their situation, stranded on an island and stalked by a murderer.
He was her match. He got her. They understood each other, could talk about anything, and did. More than physical attraction, they had a link. He was always present in her thoughts. Did he care for her? Maybe, but their only real links were sex and their searches. Anything more was in only in her mind. She’d always known the end would come, had steeled herself. She was too much work, too outspoken, and too defensive. Men always left. But the anticipated loss hurt like razorblades lacerating her insides.
Her heart beat with slow, hard thumps as she watched Jake extract a flare from the emergency kit. He cocked the flare gun and raised it.
Once Burned (Task Force Eagle) Page 21