Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel)

by Tiffinie Helmer

  Garrett squeezed her hand in approval. “Good, keep him talking. Hopefully it’ll buy us time until the Calypso arrives.”

  If it kept her out of the water, she’d recite the constitution. Cranky hadn’t responded to the last question she’d asked, which had her worrying her bottom lip again. She was going to chew through it at this rate.

  “Earl, tell me what you want me to do?”

  “Why, Kyra?” His words slurred. “Why did ya have to do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Make me hurt you,” he whined.

  Hell, this was like déjà vu. This could be Aidan talking to her.

  “You haven’t hurt me, Earl.” Not yet. “And you don’t have to. Just tell me what you want me to do?”

  “I want you to die, Kyra. And this time, I want you stayin’ dead.”

  A chill sank into her bones. Garrett’s hold on her tightened. He rose up again to look over the rail and this time aimed and fired off a shot. A cackling laugh followed, and then a homemade pipe bomb, fuse lit and smoking, whistled into the air, landing a few feet from them.

  “Shit!” Garrett grabbed her. Before she could utter a protest, she went flying overboard into the black water as the bomb exploded aboard her boat.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Icy needles pierced Sonya’s skin as the ocean reached up and eagerly swallowed her. Down, down, down into the depths of hell, invisible talons dragged her to a waiting watery grave. She kicked and lashed. Everything inside her screamed. Water blinded her eyes. Filled her mouth and nose. Smothered, strangled, and squeezed the life out of her.

  She broke the surface and choked in large breaths of air. Coughing up the bitter taste of saltwater, she blinked as it stung like acid in her eyes. She thrashed. The deep wrapped around her ankles and pulled at her feet. Water splashed, toying with her as she panicked. Then the killing clutches towed her under again.

  There was a score to settle, Sonya knew. Finally understood. She’d cheated this unforgiving ocean before, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to again. Her number was being called, and damn it, there was no way she’d avoid answering this time.

  Pain exploded in her chest, and her lungs flamed with the need for air.

  This was it. Everything she’d feared since she was fifteen. She’d known she’d die this was—the way she’d been meant to all those years ago. She hadn’t been destined to live through the Mystic’s sinking.

  Suddenly everything went still and through the murky water, Sonya saw her twin. Floating like an angel, peaceful, beautiful, but sporting that ornery look she always got on her face whenever Sonya did something Sasha didn’t like. Sonya reached a hand out for her, but Sasha shook her head, and she swore Sasha mouthed the word “fight.” Then she was alone in the freezing darkness. The pressure in her chest returned, burning for breath, the pain worse than anything she’d ever experienced. She struggled, kicked her legs, her arms striking up, angling down, as the motion of swimming returned to her like retained muscle memory.

  Her head emerged into the night air and she gasped for breath. Her heart thumped like a drum solo, her breathing choppy as she attempted to gulp in as much air as her body could possible hold. She treaded water and took in her surroundings, while panic still shivered through her. Any minute now the water would reach for her again.

  The Double Dippin’ smoked but wasn’t aflame…and a crazed man’s voice cackled over the serene darkness of the night.

  Garrett.

  Where was Garrett? Sonya whipped around, her eyes straining the blackness to find him. He wouldn’t have left her. He knew how scared of the water she was—

  A body floated face down a few feet from her.

  A prayer—a tortured sob—escaped as she swam toward him. Grabbing his arm, she turned him in the water, until his face floated up. Then he sank like an anchor taking her down with him.

  Damned if she’d let this ocean steal another person she loved.

  Hooking her arm around his neck, she kicked and heaved for the surface with everything she had, relieved to find they hadn’t been pulled under far. The cold of the water drained her strength, causing her teeth to chatter. She backstroked for the Double Dippin’, dragging Garrett with her, just as a shot ran out.

  The bastard was shooting at her now?

  Throwing a bomb on her boat wasn’t enough? What the hell had she ever done to piss off Cranky?

  Once she was out of the water she was going to kill the fucking bastard.

  She’d make sure he never hurt her or someone she loved again. Anger heated her muscles, and she made it to the stern, near the ladder. She grabbed the lowest rung with one hand, and rested, still holding Garrett’s head above water. How was she going to get him aboard if he didn’t wake up?

  What if he never woke up? Please God, she silently prayed. Make him wake up.

  Waves lulled against them, no longer threatening, more like cradling the both of them. As though pitying their useless efforts to stay alive. The evening seemed almost tranquil, hushed, as though pausing to watch. Garrett’s head rolled, something warm and sticky brushed her face, and he groaned. Sonya almost sobbed with relief.

  Then she heard the engine of Earl’s sputtering skiff split the eerie stillness. The mocking serenity of the night bore a shocking similarity to that of a horror movie just before the characters were slaughtered.

  Her heart pounded in tune to the theme of Jaws as Earl crept steadily closer.

  “Kyrrra? Where are you, Kyrrra?” Earl’s sing-song voice sent more shivers coursing through Sonya’s body.

  With no choice that she could see, Sonya let go of the ladder and swam them around the corner of the stern before Earl saw them. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep them both afloat while Earl played a sick Marco Polo, taking pot shots at them around the Double Dippin’.

  Swimming to shore was no longer an option. She didn’t have the strength to get both Garrett and herself there, and as soon as she left the protection of the Double Dippin’, she’d be in open water—easy pickings for Earl, damn-his-cranky-hide, Harte.

  Where the hell was the Calypso?

  Then she heard another outboard engine roaring toward them. She prayed troopers were coming to the rescue loaded for bear and would take this son of a bitch down. Rather that than a member of her family hearing the explosions and coming to investigate. She couldn’t handle it if any one of them were hurt.

  The new skiff’s engine powered down. “Dad!”

  Aidan?

  Was he there for backup? For who? Her or his father?

  Garrett struggled in her grasp, coughing and giving away their location, as he came to full consciousness.

  “Sonya?” he croaked, his tone one of panic as he thrashed in the water.

  “Shhh,” she whispered near his ear, flooded with emotion that he was alive. Tears clogged her throat. She felt his body jerk with suppressed coughs, relieved he settled and didn’t need an explanation regarding their precarious situation. She relaxed her hold on Garrett as he began treading water on his own. She didn’t know how much longer she’d have been able to keep them both from sinking.

  “You okay?” he whispered back. The concern in his tone brought a lump to her throat.

  She nodded, knowing that Garrett wasn’t okay, afraid he bled from a head wound.

  “Dad, what are you doing?” Aidan asked. “Why are you wasting all the fireworks?”

  “What fireworks?” Sonya heard the confusion in Earl’s voice.

  The man was nuts. First he was calling her Kyra and now he didn’t remember throwing homemade fireworks at them?

  “I’m throwing pipe bombs.” He cackled. “They do a fine job blowing up boats. At least they did.” She could imagine Cranky scratching his head. “Must’ve messed up on the mixture. That one didn’t do much more than boom and smoke.”

  “Why don’t we head back to camp and try to get the formula right?” Aidan said.

  “Sure. Just as soon as I’m done here.�
�� Sonya heard the skiff inch closer. The cold was making her fingers numb and her limbs sluggish. Ten minutes was all this water allowed before hypothermia set in. Those minutes were ticking by fast, if not altogether gone.

  A flashlight clicked on, shining in Sonya’s eyes, blinding her. Garrett moved her behind him, using his body as a shield.

  “There you are, Kyrrra,” Earl said, sadistic pleasure coming through in his tone. “Thought you could get away from me again, did ya?”

  “W-what do you mean, a-again?” Sonya chattered. Was the man off his meds? She twisted to see Earl while Garrett did his best to keep her behind him. His motions were lethargic, and Sonya knew he wouldn’t last long. Then his head fell against her shoulder, and his body started to sink. Sonya grabbed him around his trunk.

  Enough of this bullshit.

  They needed to get out of the water now. They were no better than sitting ducks.

  Earl let out another cackle. “Think the Mystic caught fire by accident? I rigged the electrical harness.”

  “You b-bastard.” Sonya shook with cold, and anger, and an overwhelming need to wrap her fingers around Earl’s neck and squeeze until he flopped like a dead fish in her hands.

  “I warned you, Kyra. You never did listen. Guess you’ll listen now—” he interrupted himself with a laugh, “—guess you won’t, since you’ll be dead.” His gaze shifted to include Garrett. “Along with your stud.” He raised the gun he held in his hand. “That is if the man lives long enough to die.”

  “Dad! That isn’t Kyra. It’s Sonya,” Aidan said, stressing her name.

  “I know she’s Sonya. What? You think I’m nuts?”

  Well, yeah.

  “Then why are you calling her Kyra?”

  Yeah,why?

  “Why would I call her Kyra? Kyra’s dead.” Then he laughed, the evil sound echoing across the water.

  “Dad—”

  “When I was your age, Junior, I’d never let a woman get away with making a fool out me like Sonya has you. Fucking a fish cop right under your nose and you just sat back and let her get away with it.”

  “You’re making a mistake. Sonya and I aren’t in love—”

  “What? You going to tell me you don’t love her? That her banging this asswipe doesn’t twist your insides? I’m doing you a favor, boy.”

  “I don’t want any favors. Let me handle her on my own.”

  “Like you’ve handled her so far? She’s made a fool of you, just like her mother did me. I didn’t let that bitch get away with it, and I’m not going to let this one either.” He turned back to Sonya, his face deformed into a painful, cruel mask. “Why did you have to come back, Kyra?”

  “Sonya, you psychotic bastard!” she yelled at him. If he was going to kill her, he’d sure as hell better get her name right.

  “Whatever.” Earl shrugged and raised the gun.

  “Earl,” Garrett said, raising his head, his voice raspy as though pain had him tight in its grip. “I’ve already radioed the Calypso. Your only choice is to listen to your son.”

  “Yeah,” Earl scoffed. “Like that will ever happen. The boy’s an idiot.”

  “Put the gun down, Dad,” Aidan pleaded. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” Earl lowered the gun and swung around to face Aidan, who’d snuck steadily closer in his skiff. Earl smirked when he saw the gun Aidan carried.

  “Come on, Dad. Lana made those brownies you like. The ones with the toffee bits crumbled on top. Let’s head back to camp where we can have some and figure this all out.”

  “Why? I’ve got it figured out.” Then, quick as a snake, Earl coiled back to Sonya and Garrett and aimed.

  A gun fired…and Earl fell to his knees.

  He dropped his pistol, his hand covering his chest where blood bubbled out like black crude oil. His wide-eyed expression sought out Aidan’s. “Well, I’ll be damned. Who knew you had the balls, son?” A proud smile tilted the side of his mouth, and then he pitched forward into the bottom of the skiff.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  “Dad!” Aidan yelled, his skiff smacking into Earl’s. “Oh God, oh God, oh God.” Aidan grabbed the rail of the skiff, roped the two boats together and jumped into his father’s boat.

  Aidan’s tortured sob clutched at Sonya’s heart. From where she treaded water, she couldn’t see if Earl was all right, but she didn’t think so.

  Aidan had always been a crack shot.

  Both Sonya and Garrett had jerked when the gunshot rang out, expecting to be shot themselves.

  Where the hell were those troopers Garrett had radioed for?

  Then she heard another outboard and prayed help was on the way. They needed to get out of this water, which didn’t seem as cold as before.

  “Sonya!” Peter hollered, his voice anxious. She turned to see Wes and Peter pulling up in the skiff. “Are you okay?”

  “Y-yes, but Garrett isn’t.”

  Wes maneuvered as close to them as he could. He and Peter grabbed Garrett under the arms and pulled him out of the frigid water. Sonya swam up to the boat, her actions slow and sluggish, her arms leaden. She reached up a hand, and they pulled her into the skiff.

  The night air sliced like shards of ice, stealing her breath. She’d been warmer in the water.

  “What the hell’s been going on here?” Peter asked, fear causing his voice to crack. “Why are you guys in the water? What’s up with Aidan?” They all heard his tormented sobs carrying over the water as the skiffs drifted away from each other with the tide. “What’s with all the fireworks? I thought Cranky and Crafty were going to wait ’til tomorrow night.” He helped her sit in the bottom of the boat, next to Garrett, since her legs couldn’t seem to hold her weight. “Damn, you’re cold, Sonya. We’ve got to get you back to the cabin and warm you up.”

  She shook her head. “Garrett’s h-hurt.” She put her hand on his bare chest, relieved to feel air rhythmically breathe in and out. Blood seeped steadily from a gash on his forehead. “We n-need blankets from the Double Dippin’. C-cabin’s too far away.” Wes had already angled the skiff near the ladder at the stern of the drift boat. Peter scampered aboard, while Wes tied them to the boat. “Grab something to h-help stop Garrett’s bleeding t-too,” Sonya hollered.

  Peter was back in moments with two sleeping bags and the first aid kit. Bless him, he’d also grabbed their boots. “Crap, Sonya, the boat’s a mess.” He draped one of the sleeping bags around her shoulders and handed over a pair of boots. “What the hell went down here tonight?” She grabbed the folds of the down-filled sleeping bag tight around her and struggled to get her wet, frozen feet into her rubber boots.

  Garrett moved his head and groaned. “Sonya.”

  She reached for his hand and held it in hers, bringing their clasped fingers to her chest. “I-I’m right here. H-hang in there, Garrett. W-we’ll get you f-fixed up.”

  Wes picked her up and moved her away from Garrett. “You sit here and let Peter and I take care of him.” They stripped Garrett’s soaked jeans off him and zipped him snug in the sleeping bag. Then Wes covered the cut on his forehead with gauze pads, taping them in place. When they were finished, she crawled back to Garrett’s side and brushed a hand over his wet hair.

  “There isn’t anything more we can do for him until we get to the cabin,” Wes said.

  She shook her head. “No, you n-need to take him to Wanda. He needs s-stitches, and checked over for a c-concussion,” she said through chattering teeth. Aidan’s anguished suffering echoed over the water. She had to help him, too, before he did something bad…like turn his gun on himself. “I want you to drop me off with Aidan, and then take Garrett to Wanda.”

  “No.” Garrett struggled to opened his eyes. “Skip and Judd will be here. They can help Aidan.”

  “They’ll a-arrest him and a-ask questions later. That’s the last thing he n-needs right now.”

  “We’ll get you two to shore and then come back and he
lp Aidan,” Peter suggested. “You need to get dry and warmed up.”

  “No.” She hoped Peter would understand. She knew he was worried about her. “Peter, Aidan just k-killed Earl. I can’t leave him a-alone. He n-needs me.”

  “I need you, Sonya.” Garrett’s hand squeezed hers.

  The words warmed her heart and she wished she could go with him, but of the two men, Aidan needed her more right now. She gave Garrett a soft smile and kissed their joined hands. “Garrett, you’re the kind of guy who doesn’t need anyone.”

  “Damn it, Sonya.” Garrett pushed up to a sitting position, and then his eyes rolled back in his head. He would have fallen back if Sonya hadn’t caught him in her arms and helped him lie down. He was quickly losing his ability to fight with her. “Sonya.” He swallowed. “Listen—”

  “Save your s-strength for Wanda. Y-you’ll need it.” She ran her fingers alongside his stubbled jaw, and then turned to Wes. “Take me to Aidan.”

  “You’re sure?” Wes asked. “One of us can stay behind with Aidan.”

  “It’ll take b-both of you to get Garrett to Wanda’s. I-I don’t have the strength.”

  Wes drew the skiff alongside Aidan’s. The two boats drifted recklessly with the incoming tide. Aidan held Earl in his arms, his fractured sobs breaking her heart. She stepped from one boat into the other with Peter’s help, the sleeping bag still clutched like a life preserver around her. “Now, get Garrett t-to Wanda. Hurry.”

  They took off, the skiff on plane as it flew toward the village. Sonya sent a silent prayer that Garrett would be all right and then bent next to Aidan, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Aidan.”

  “Sonya?” He seemed as though he’d been unaware of her boarding his boat as he’d been caught up in his own hell. “I killed him, Sonya. I killed the son of a bitch.” He wiped his nose with his forearm.

  “You s-saved my life, Aidan,” she pointed out though he didn’t seem to hear her.

  “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted him dead?” He didn’t wait for Sonya to answer as he sobbed. “Most of my life. Even fantasized how I’d do it, if given the opportunity. Never thought I actually do it, though.”