Hunting Houston
Page 21
Abby reached up and tried to work her hand into his jeans pocket, but the denim was tight. Finally, she settled for wiggling her fingers far enough down to maneuver the knife up and out. “Got it!” She flipped the blade out and started sawing at the rope. Working furiously, she felt the seconds tick by like hours while she worked. At last, the rope popped in two. She pulled and tugged until at last Houston was free.
He spun around, reaching under the table for Abby at the same time, jerked her up and half dragged, half carried her to the steps leading above deck.
“Houston!”
He whipped around to see Gil standing by the wheelhouse, his gun pointed at both of them. He saw Gil’s other hand come up in the customary policeman’s hold and reacted instinctively.
Gil fired at the same moment Houston shoved Abby to one side.
Abby screamed, falling onto the deck. A second later, Houston’s body fell on hers.
“I’m all right. Crawl. To the back of the boat.”
Another bullet whizzed over their heads.
“Keep going. There’s a ladder that goes to the upper deck.”
With Houston acting as a shield, they scrambled to the ladder just as Gil rounded the serving counter, aimed and fired.
Abby thought she heard Houston moan but she wasn’t sure, and he stayed right behind her going up the ladder. They were on deck, but far from safe. Gil was still below with the explosives and a gun.
“He’s got a dinghy lashed to the left hull so he can get back to the docks.” Houston grabbed her hand and pulled her along the side of the cabin, heading for the rowboat. Her hand slipped out of his and she looked down as he reached for it again.
Houston’s arm and both of their hands were covered in blood.
“Oh, my God,” she cried. “You’re hurt.”
“Keep moving.”
“But you’re—”
“It doesn’t matter now—”
“Stop right where you are!” Gil called from behind them.
They stopped, turned to face him, and Houston pushed Abby behind him.
They stood on one side of the cabin’s entrance, Gil on the other, an equal distance from the dinghy.
“Didn’t think I’d let you get away, did you?”
“You’re not a killer, Gil. It’s not too late to put a stop to this. Give it up.” Reaching a hand behind him to urge Abby to stay with him, Houston inched his way toward Gil.
“Stay right where you are,” Gil ordered when they were less than three feet from him. “You’re up to something.”
Houston shook his head. “I want to see your face. I want you to look me in the eye when you shoot me.”
“Oh, no.” Gil grinned. “I couldn’t kill you outright. The explosives will do that. Neat, huh?”
Houston’s hopes of getting Abby to the dinghy and safety suddenly nosedived. Unless he could get that gun away from Gil, their chances of survival were slim to none.
“Now,” Gil said, backing up, “I’m going to get in my little boat, paddle out a way and wait for the big boom.” He glanced down to check his path.
Houston saw his opportunity and took it.
He leaped forward, grabbed for the gun and he and Gil went down in a tangle of limbs. They rolled around on the deck, struggling with the weapon, finally rolling through the cabin entrance and down the steps. Now they grappled on their knees for the pistol.
“Abby!” Houston yelled. “Get to the dinghy. Hurry!”
The pitch and sway of the boat sent them tumbling over the deck and up against the right pontoon. The gun popped free and went sliding across the deck. Both men shot to their feet, trying to prevent the other from reaching the weapon. As they staggered backward together, Gil took a swing at Houston and missed. Houston’s fist caught Gil square on the jaw, slamming him against the serving counter.
In one swift move, Gil righted himself and grabbed Houston, knocking the box of explosives and timer to the deck in the process. Neither man noticed. All their attention was focused on seizing the gun. They both dove for it, but at that moment the boat pitched, and the weapon skidded across the deck and fell down into the open glass-bottom area.
As Gil watched the pistol disappear out of sight, Houston hit him with a powerful blow to the right side of his head. Gil groaned, then slumped onto the deck. Houston grabbed his friend by the back of the shirt and dragged him up the stairs. He was almost in the open, hanging on to Gil, when the explosion ripped through the cabin, jerking Gil from his grasp and hurling him several feet along the upper deck.
Houston looked up in time to see Abby fly over the ship’s railing and plunge into the ocean.
“Abby! Abby!” Dragging himself to the railing he scanned the waves for her. Finally he saw her floating, facedown, in the water.
Houston dove straight for her, but when he surfaced, he couldn’t see her. “No. Not again. Do you hear me?” he yelled. He prayed. “Not again.”
Just then, another explosion lit up the darkness. “Abby!” he screamed, twisting and turning, searching… Then he saw her—saw something about twenty yards away. Keeping his eyes fixed on the spot, he swam furiously toward it. But just before he reached the spot, she disappeared beneath the waves.
Houston dived, frantically groping for her in the inky water. Then something that felt like seaweed brushed his hand and he grabbed at it.
And found he had a handful of Abby’s skirt.
He yanked the sodden fabric toward him and pulled her limp body into his arms. With three powerful kicks, they broke the surface of the water.
“Abby, Abby.” He held her head in his hands, shaking it gently. “Talk to me. Sweetheart. Oh, God, don’t let her be—”
She made a choking sound, coughing up seawater, and Houston thought it just might be the most beautiful sound in the world. He turned her, looping her arms around his neck. “Hang on, sweetheart.”
“Hou-Houston,” Abby finally managed to choke out his name.
“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”
Still coughing, she looked up and saw that a great deal of the boat was now on fire. “Gil?”
“He’s still on board.”
Suddenly a screaming apparition appeared on the deck of the burning ship. It was Gil, most of his body engulfed in flames. For a second he paused, arms outstretched like some monster in a horror movie. Then a second explosion ripped through the night, destroying the ship completely. And he was gone.
Chapter 15
“Are you warm enough?”
“Hmm.” Sitting on the sofa wearing one of Houston’s soft denim shirts and a pair of his boxer shorts pinned at the waist, Abby snuggled deeper under the quilt he had brought from his bedroom.
“More coffee? It’s decaf.”
Abby had to smile. It would take more than caffeine to keep her awake. After tonight’s ordeal, she was so totally exhausted she just might sleep for days. “No, thanks.”
They had managed to pull themselves into the dinghy and start rowing back toward the harbor, but they didn’t have to row for very long. The explosion had been seen from the docks, and within moments the harbor-patrol boat and several others were on the scene to help. Wet, frightened and almost in shock, they had been questioned, signed statements, and in general, repeated the events of the night more times than either of them cared to remember.
Through all the questions, Houston had never left her side. They had huddled together under blankets for warmth, and sipped hot coffee together in a quiet corner while their statements were being typed. Now, alone in his house, for the first time Abby felt uncomfortable in his presence.
She looked so small and fragile, Houston thought. Small wonder, after what she had been through. It was almost ironic that he had once envisioned her sitting on this couch, wearing one of his shirts; and now here she was, but how different the circumstances. He wondered if he would ever have the opportunity to see the other fantasy fulfilled, or if she’d had enough of islands, the ocean, and him.
“I hung your clothes up in the kitchen, but I’m afraid the blazer is ruined,” he said apologetically.
She reached up and brushed a still-damp swath of hair out of her eyes. “A small price to pay for my life, don’t you think?”
Wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a worried look on his face, Houston squatted in front of her, balancing himself on the balls of his feet. “You can’t put a price on your life.”
“Gil did. What was the amount? Two hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars?”
“I’d gladly give a hundred times that sum for you not to have gone through what you did tonight. Abby.” He. rocked forward, coming down on one knee. “If anything had happened to you…” He closed his eyes, whispering, “When I saw you going over the rail and into the water—” opening his eyes, he swallowed hard “—my heart stopped.”
Abby thought she was all cried out, thought she had shaken until there wasn’t one more tremble left in her body, but she was wrong. Seeing Houston so humble, so…frightened for her, brought the emotions whirling to the surface in a heartbeat. A fat teardrop slid down her cheek and plopped onto the quilt.
“Oh, darlin’, no.” Quickly, he was beside her, wrapping her in his embrace. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please, don’t cry.”
But she couldn’t stop. The tears she had shed before were out of fear, and from having to tell and retell the horror of what had happened. They had been necessary, but not cleansing. The tears she shed now, with Houston rocking her gently, washed her soul, cleansed her heart.
“Abby, Abby,” he murmured against her temple. “I was a fool. Can you ever forgive me?”
“I-I lied,” she sobbed.
“Don’t.” He held her tighter. “You did what you had to. I understand that now. And my reaction was so…so brutal. I’ll never forgive myself.”
“B-but Gil was y-your friend. You tr-trusted him. I sh-should have known you would be-be loyal. No matter w-what.”
“I was blind, and it was almost too late by the time I really opened my eyes. I almost lost you.”
“But you didn’t. You saved me.”
“No. When I dived in the water after you, I saved myself. I love you, Abby. I’m nothing without you.”
She pulled a hand from beneath the quilt to stroke his cheek. “And I love you. I didn’t think I would ever get the chance to say those words again.”
“And now?”
“Now, I want to say them until you’re sick of hearing them.”
He smiled, kissed her damp cheek. “That should be in about fifty or sixty years.”
“I was thinking more along the lines of forever.”
Houston looked into her beautiful blue eyes and saw forgiveness, and more love than he deserved. “I like your time frame better.”
“But…”
“But what? There’s nothing we can’t handle as long as we’re together.”
“What about…my job?”
He turned her to face him, lifting her arms around his neck. “You mean the investigation?” She nodded.
“I thought about that while we were standing around waiting for stenographers, for all the paperwork to be done.” Absently, he massaged her shoulders. “I want to leave Maui, Abby.”
“But-”
“No.” He silenced her with a quick kiss. “Maybe I’ll come back—we’ll come back—someday as tourists, but this part of my life is over. I think it’s been over for a while, and I didn’t realize it until you came along. I want to go home, Abby. To Houston.”
He waited, watching her face for any signs of distress, releasing a deep sigh when he found none. “Do you think you could be happy in Texas?”
“No more water, huh?”
“Actually, I was thinking of a marina along the coast. Maybe Padre Island.”
“Another island?” she said, smiling.
“We don’t have to,” he rushed to assure her. “If you don’t ever want to see the ocean again, I can live with that.”
“You love the sea, and I love you. A marina sounds fine to me.”
“But your job.”
“I’m looking for a new job,” she told him, caressing his broad shoulders. “Something less adventuresome.”
“How does raising a couple of kids sound to you?”
Her hands stilled. “Kids?”
“Yeah. Marriage, kids. The works.”
Abby smiled, her eyes shining with love as she drew his head down for a deep kiss. “It sounds like paradise.”
* * * * *
eISBN 978-14592-7935-3
HUNTING HOUSTON
Copyright © 1996 by Sandy Steen
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the editorial office. Silhouette Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York. NY 10017 U.S.A.
All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author. and all incidents are pure invention.
This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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Printed In U.S.A.
Table of Contents
Cover Page
Table of Contents
Excerpt
Dear Reader
Books by Sandy Steen
About the Author
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Copyright