Broken Angels

by Anne Hope

  “I was hoping you’d be here,” Noah wrote.

  “I like the night,” his friend replied. “What R U doin up so late?”

  “Couldn’t sleep. My dumb baby brother was screaming again.”

  “Babies are a real PITA.” Pain in the ass.

  “N/S.” No shit.

  “Guess what?” Night-Owl typed. “I’m coming to Chatham. I’ll be staying with my aunt up at Minister’s Point.”

  Excitement glided down Noah’s spine, curled in his tummy. “That’s where I’m at. What street?”

  “Ministers Lane. The gray house with the blue shutters and the fake rooster on the roof.”

  “I think I know it. Went biking there once. When will U be here?”

  “Tomorrow at 1. Wanna drop by? Ralph wants to meet U.”

  “You’re bringing him along?”

  “Yup. He gets lonely without me.” A short pause, then, “Do you have a pet?”

  “A dog.”

  “Don’t bring him with U. Ralph will freak.”

  Noah sent Night-Owl a laughing face.

  “And don’t tell anyone you’re coming. It’s our little secret.”

  “Do I look stupid to U?”

  “Tell U tomorrow.”

  He rolled his eyes, even though Night-Owl couldn’t see him. “LMAO.” Laughing my ass off, he wrote sarcastically.

  “CU tomorrow,” was Night-Owl’s response.

  For the first time in days, a smile spread across Noah’s face. “CU.”

  Fog hovered over the sea like a drowning cloud. Raymond’s motor boat cut a steady path through the blue-gray mist, angled toward the mountains, where his boss’s craft sat moored. Behind him, a fat sun rose to salute the day. Raymond knew this place well. He came by every few months to drop off the special packages his employer dispatched him to collect. Here they remained, sometimes for days, until his boss could make the necessary arrangements to transfer them. Paperwork needed to be done, photographs taken, identities changed. Raymond didn’t know where they ultimately ended up, and he didn’t care.

  He was just the middleman.

  The day would be bright, clear and warm. He could tell by the way the sun steadily ate away at the fog. He anchored his boat, left the key in the ignition in case he had to make a quick getaway, then skillfully scaled the low cliff. Beyond it, acres upon acres of land stretched. There was a narrow trail that would lead him straight to his destination, so he took it. This tended to be a little more challenging in the winter months, but his employer needed the cloak of invisibility this remote location offered. Neighbors could be such a nuisance. Raymond had learned that the hard way.

  Within minutes the house he sought came into view. It was quaint, picturesque, something one might expect to see in a painting of the countryside—the ideal shroud for the devil’s workshop. The air was sweet, redolent with the aroma of fruit ripening beneath a thin cover of dew. The only sound was that of crickets and of a spotted sandpiper greeting him as he passed. He found the key hidden in the usual spot, a flowerbed now overrun with weeds, and fished it out. Then he let himself in.

  The place looked deserted, but he knew his employer was here. He’d seen his boat anchored below. Raymond didn’t bother announcing his presence. He just waited. As the minutes stretched, he grew restless, nervous. Damage control, his boss had said. Raymond was smart enough to understand he was part of the damage that needed to be controlled. So he’d hedged his bets, made a life-altering call late last night. If it came down to him or his employer, he’d feed the bastard to the wolves in a heartbeat.

  A loud clang startled him. From the back room, machinery droned with steady precision, like a well-oiled assembly line. Raymond followed the sound. Rusted vats framed him as he searched for the source of the noise. Then he saw it, a mammoth of a contraption, lifting monstrous steel arms and plunging them deep within its own dark center. The sight mesmerized him. He’d never seen the machine in operation before. Curiosity and boredom propelled him up the metal stairs, where a low platform hung. He stared into the empty bowels of the crusher, waiting for his employer to make an appearance, wondering why he’d suddenly decided to turn the device on.

  Then it struck him, the culmination of all his fears, seconds before he heard someone call out his name. He turned, aware that—despite all his planning—he’d walked straight into the belly of the beast. The black barrel of a gun yawned before him. He panicked, scrambled for the 9mm SIG strapped to his belt. But it was too late. The gun exploded, glinted silver in the semi-dark room. A spray of bullets slammed into him. Blood squirted from the wounds in his chest, thick and sickening.

  Pain made his body spasm. Pain and an unbearable heat. Regret swamped him. The only consolation was the knowledge that his murderer would burn in hell alongside him. As he fell backward, right into the steel-toothed mouth waiting to chew his carcass to bits, his last thought was of the terrible mess he’d leave behind.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Sometimes, when Zach watched the kids splashing around in the waves, running across the spit of a beach that bordered his dad’s summer home or tossing a ball at the dog, he almost forgot everything they’d been through. Kids were so resilient. They found hope and a reason to smile even as the world collapsed around them. Unlike adults, they instinctively knew how to compartmentalize. He wished he did, too. Wished he could stop worrying about what tomorrow would bring or thinking of the son of a bitch who’d taken his sister from him.

  At night, in Becca’s arms, he almost did. A man could live an entire lifetime in just one minute holding the woman he loved. On those occasions when her fragrant skin brushed his or her hair feathered across his chest, soft as silk, their entire future slid into focus. He could see them raising the kids, growing old together, holding hands as they watched the sun set for the last time.

  But the second night spilled into dawn, the doubts returned, sharper than before. He wanted to believe they’d get it right this time, but a part of him couldn’t help but wonder what would happen the second a crisis came along. Would they crash and burn again? Would he be able to comfort her the way she needed to be comforted? Would she cave under the pressure and retreat into herself? Would he run away?

  And what about the murderous bastard who still roamed the streets, gloating because he’d gotten away with a double homicide? He needed to be put behind bars before he could hurt anyone else, make another child an orphan. But Noah didn’t want to remember, and Pat still hadn’t gotten back to him about that appointment with the sketch artist.

  Bolt’s yapping snapped him out of his thoughts. The kids chased the beagle around the backyard, laughing each time they made him bark. The Jenkinses’ door burst open, and Amy and Jason ran over to join the fun.

  Hot on their heels was their mom. “Morning,” she greeted.

  “Looks like a nice day,” he said, making small talk.

  “Sure does. Better pile on the sunblock.”

  Zach leaned his elbows on the railing. A cool breeze rolled off the harbor, slid fine fingers through his hair, but failed to soothe his nerves.

  “Is Rebecca around?”

  “She’s inside with Will. He’s been acting up a lot these past couple days.”

  “I noticed. Probably teething, poor thing.”

  A cottontail darted across the yard, and the dog went wild. From the surrounding shrubs, a group of sparrows suddenly took flight.

  “Is Pat up?” he asked. “I got something to talk to him about.”

  “Pat’s gone back to Boston.”

  He directed an assessing stare Tess’s way. “Hope everything’s all right.”

  “Oh, yeah. Just some break in the big case he hasn’t been able to get out of his head.” The bitter note in her voice was unmistakable. “Maybe they’ll finally put this thing to bed so we can all take a break.”

  “Will you be heading out, too?”

  “I’ll stay till the end of the week as planned. Then I’ll drive back.” She crossed h
er arms over her chest, propped her back against the wall. “Thank God he left me the car, at least. This is one of those rare times when I’m actually glad he got that ridiculously overpriced boat. I hate being stranded.”

  It seemed Pat’s job, like his fishing, was a sore spot for Tess.

  “Did he mention anything about the sketch artist before he left?”

  She shrugged apologetically. “Not really. Sorry. He’s been really preoccupied lately.”

  From the house, Becca emerged with a now-quiet Will perched on her hip. “Hi, Tess.”

  Tess brightened at the sight of her friend, and Zach couldn’t blame her. There was something very vital about Becca, a light that shone from within that reached out and lit a fire deep inside you. For a while that light had dimmed. Now it was back, more radiant than the sun.

  “How is he?” Tess asked, gazing at Will with doe-eyed affection.

  “Better. But I’m still worried.” Becca ran a loving palm over the baby’s damp head. The kid had obviously cried himself into a sweat. “Maybe we should take him to the clinic.”

  Zach wasn’t convinced. Will had been pulling these fits on him for weeks. “Aren’t you jumping the gun a little? He’s got a couple of molars coming. You’d be screaming, too, if your gums were about to be split open.”

  Tess and Becca exchanged a conspiratorial look, and he read the unvoiced thought that sped through their minds. Men.

  He smiled and shook his head. Women.

  The sudden roar of a motor slashed the air, and he turned his gaze toward the harbor, where a boat chugged steadily toward them. His first thought was that Pat had returned. Then he recognized the miniature yacht and realized with a sinking sensation exactly who was at the helm.

  Martin.

  What the hell was he doing here?

  Martin anchored the boat, then used a motorized dinghy to zip to the shore without wetting his designer shorts. Bet they’d cost as much as this house. The closer he got, the more the greasy feeling in Zach’s stomach spread. The jerk looked like a Ralph Lauren ad, with his white Polo opened at the neck, his surfer tan and his dirty blond hair fused to his scalp with enough gel to snare an entire swarm of flies. Not a single hair on his head moved, even as his clothing flapped in the wind.

  Martin’s face lit up like a Christmas tree when he saw Becca, and he gave her a wave befitting a politician. Becca waved back and smiled. If Zach had felt like shit before, he felt even worse now.

  “Looks like you’ve got a visitor,” Tess said. “Isn’t that Liam’s brother?”

  “In the flesh.” Zach grunted his frustration.

  Becca inched up beside him. “Behave,” she whispered. Her breath scraped his ear—soft, seductive. That familiar tingle coiled deep in his gut, made him wish everyone would disappear so he could have her all to himself, just for a minute or two.

  No such luck. Before he could catch his breath, Martin invaded their space like a goddamn elephant. Becca gave him her most luminous smile. The kids practically tripped over themselves in their rush to greet him. Even the dog proved himself a traitor, nearly peeing from excitement.

  Zach didn’t get it. The guy was as fake as imitation leather, but everyone seemed to worship the ground he walked on. Was he the only one who saw through his plastic grin?

  Martin gave him the benefit of that grin now. “Enjoying the sun?”

  Zach managed a stiff nod. “Looks like you are, too. No multi-million-dollar deal to land this week?”

  “Nope.” Martin flashed a set of perfectly aligned, impossibly white teeth. “Have a few days off. I was on my way back from my place at the Vineyard, so I thought I’d drop by and visit my little buds here.” He slapped Kristen and Noah on the back affectionately. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  Zach gritted his teeth and fought real hard not to answer that question.

  Thankfully, Becca answered for him. “It’s always nice to see you, Martin. It’s been a while.”

  “It sure has.” Martin reached for her hand, then brought it to his lips like some smarmy Casanova. “I didn’t think it was possible, but you’ve gone and done it.”

  Confusion tugged at her full mouth. “Done what?”

  “Grown even lovelier.”

  Zach nearly choked on a snort. Did women actually buy this load of crap?

  Becca beamed, and he had to fight to keep from rolling his eyes. Guess they do.

  “Martin, you know Tess,” she quickly introduced the neighbor in an effort to downplay her embarrassment. Becca never could take a compliment without turning every known shade of red.

  “Yes, of course.” Martin clasped Tess’s hand in his. “Pat’s wife, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  Martin displayed those blinding teeth again. “Must be the water. The ladies here are positively radiant.”

  Now it was Tess’s turn to blush.

  Oh, brother.

  Zach took Will from Becca and propped him on the railing in front of him. He needed to keep his hands busy so he wouldn’t be tempted to wrap them around Martin’s slick throat. Will fussed for a second, then thankfully settled.

  Kristen tugged at Martin’s shorts. “Can you take us on a boat ride?” She unleashed the full force of her liquid blue gaze. “Pleeeease!” Unable to contain her eagerness, she jumped on the balls of her feet. “I wanna see dolphins and whales.”

  “Maybe later, pip-squeak.” Martin ruffled her wispy blond hair. “I think I’m suffering from heat stroke right now.”

  “Why don’t you come inside?” Becca offered. “I’ll get you something cold to drink.”

  “Why thank you. I never turn down a chance to have a drink with a pretty lady.”

  Becca’s cheeks flushed with color again. Zach wondered how cocky the flirtatious bastard would look without his front teeth. He was tempted to find out.

  Instead, he swallowed his irritation and grudgingly watched Martin follow his blushing wife into the house.

  Becca invited Martin to stay for lunch; he’d come all this way after all. The kids were ecstatic and talked Martin’s ear off. They seemed determined to share every detail of their stay here so far.

  Zach cut into his steak and tried to look pleasant for Becca’s sake. She’d warned him about a dozen times to behave. He was determined to prove to her that he could be civil. Even with the likes of Martin Birch.

  “So are you still writing for that magazine?” Martin asked Becca between mouthfuls of sweet peas and mashed potatoes.

  “Uh hum.” She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “Women Today. I write an article a month.”

  “What about that book you started? Did you ever finish it?”

  How did Martin remember that? Becca hadn’t talked about it in years. In the early days of their marriage she’d toyed with the idea of writing a novel. Then things had gotten complicated, and she’d abandoned the whole project.

  “No.” Embarrassment bled across her cheeks.

  “Why not?”

  She carved tracks in her mashed potatoes with her fork and averted her gaze. “Life got in the way.”

  “Life always gets in the way,” he told her. “That’s no excuse to give up on your dreams.”

  A light came into her eyes, and Zach wished he’d been the one to put it there. “You’re right. It’s easy to give up sometimes. But we shouldn’t, should we?”

  Martin wagged his head. “Nope. Life’s too short not to make the most of it.”

  She gave Liam’s brother a grateful smile, and a rock fell to settle in Zach’s gut. Suddenly, he couldn’t take another bite. His resentment for Martin snowballed inside him until he thought he’d burst. Not because the man had said the wrong thing, but because he’d said the right one. The truth was, Zach had never known exactly what Becca wanted or needed. When she’d given up on the book, he’d assumed she’d grown bored, so he hadn’t hassled her about it. Now he realized what she’d really needed was a kick in the pants.

  And when they�
��d failed to conceive, what had he done? He’d tried to placate her, to downplay the significance of the misfortune that had befallen them. But that had only made her grow angry and bitter. He was a goddamn idiot. She hadn’t needed someone to tell her everything would be all right. She’d needed someone to share her grief. Unfortunately, like Noah, grief wasn’t something he handled well. He wasn’t the kind of guy to sit and cry in his beer. He had to take action, solve the situation. That was just the way he was made.

  Back then, leaving her had seemed like the answer. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  Will let out another scream and tossed a handful of peas on the table. He’d complained throughout most of the meal. His eyes looked tired, his skin pink and clammy. Right there and then, Zach wondered whether Becca was right and that something was wrong with the kid.

  Becca stood and gathered the weeping toddler in her arms. Concern instantly pleated her brows. “I think he’s running a fever.”

  Zach shot to his feet and joined her. He slid his palm across Will’s head. The kid was burning up. “You’re right. We need to have him checked out. Noah, Kristen, go change. We’re going to the clinic.”

  Fire blazed in Noah’s eyes, and Zach knew the boy would put up a fight. “I wanna stay with Uncle Martin.”

  “Me, too.” Kristen happily joined her brother’s act of mutiny.

  “I don’t mind staying with them,” Martin tossed in, thoroughly undermining him.

  Even Becca decided to jump ship. “There’s no use dragging everyone along. We could be there for hours.”

  But Zach wasn’t ready to surrender just yet. “I’m not sure that’s such a great idea.”

  “Why not?” Martin looked offended. For the first time his artificial smile faltered. “You don’t trust me to look after my own niece and nephew?”

  “Of course we trust you.” Becca tried to soothe his bruised ego. “Zach’s just being a little overprotective.”

  “You really think you can handle these two on your own?” Zach asked him, trying not to sound too condescending or smug.

  “You handled the three of them on your own for weeks.” An unmistakable challenge resonated in the other man’s voice. “I sure as hell can do it for a few hours.”