“You have a beautiful soul.”
“Nobody’s ever said that to me before.” Ajax could no longer talk over the wind and water. Dmytro only heard him because he kept their cheeks pressed together.
The water tried its hardest to pull them apart.
“I would imagine you’ve never let anyone see you before.” Dmitri spoke against his ear.
“Maybe not.” Another wave picked them up and dropped them. Ajax caught his breath. “Is it getting choppier out here?”
“Maybe.” Dmytro tried to see past the swell but couldn’t. That was a bad sign.
Ajax’s teeth chattered louder between bits of conversation.
Dmytro didn’t think about God often, although he’d been raised in the Ukrainian version of the Russian Orthodox Church. Somewhere, Orthodox clerics got to rule who had jurisdiction over each part of Eastern Europe, but as far as he was concerned, they could all go spit in the wind.
He’d hated every second he’d spent with priests—medieval actors in a two-thousand-year-old play—with their incense, robes, and bearded faces. If there was a God, Anton would be alive, and not Dmytro, the cockroach, still breathing the air and fighting his way out of one disaster after another.
If there was a God, he and Dmytro had no use for each other.
Time passed more slowly still.
He’d noticed, but didn’t mention, that the weather was changing. That clouds gathered northwest of their position. That waves now lifted them higher and dropped them into steep troughs.
Perhaps he’d insulted God by questioning him?
“You feel that?” Ajax pushed the words through teeth that sounded like machine gun fire.
“Yes.”
“This is bad, huh?”
Ajax wiped his face down after every few splashes now, as if he was simply too exhausted to do it every time his face got wet. “I’m a good swimmer, but this—”
“Of course you are.”
“You hold on to that fucking ring, Dmytro.” Ajax’s eyes widened with new terror. “We need to find something to tie you to it. I need—” He spun in circles, shielded his eyes with his hand, obviously searching for something. “Why, oh why didn’t I think of that? We could have used your pants.”
“Hush, Ajax.”
“No. I won’t hush. We need to find something to tie you to that ring, because if I get too tired and fall asleep, or I’m swept away from you—”
“That won’t happen.”
“Listen to me,” Ajax shouted while salty tears streaked his sunburned skin. “I’m a really strong swimmer, but I won’t last much longer. I’m at the end of my strength, here. If I lose consciousness—when I do—my life vest will hold me up… probably it will.”
“I will hold on, Ajax. And I will cling to you as long as I have breath.”
“I know you will.” Ajax nodded, spinning more desperately still. “I know. But keep looking. There has to be something. A million sea creatures get stuck in nets, plastic trash bags, and beer-can rings every year. There must be—”
“Ajax, stop.” Dmytro looped an arm around his neck and their legs tangled beneath the waves. He pressed their cheeks together. Water washed over them, and it took a several long seconds to fight back to the surface.
“Hush, my love. Don’t panic.”
Ajax’s body shook with sobs. “It’s not going to be all right, is it?”
“It is going to be what it is,” Dmytro offered. “But I have never been in love like this, and no god could be so cruel as to separate us now.”
“Right.” Next to his, Ajax’s head bobbed. “Right. We’ve both been through worse, huh?”
Dmytro owed him the truth about this. “Not really, no.”
“God….” Ajax tried to make his body unclench. “I’m so hungry. Isn’t that dumb?”
“I’m hungry too.”
“What would you eat?” Ajax asked. “What I wouldn’t give for an In-N-Out burger right now. Fries and a shake. I swear I can hear my stomach growl…. Sounds like a—”
“Wait—” Dmytro blinked. “Wait. Hush!”
He didn’t dare look to the sky.
Didn’t dare because if he was wrong—if this was his mind playing tricks on him—he would die of heart failure right there and he’d be no use to anyone.
“Oh my God!” Ajax began waving his arms wildly as a helicopter flew toward them. “Ohmygod, we’re here! Dmytro, quick, grab some cans or something shiny.”
Dmytro’d thought he was insane, but they’d tried to keep a few cans close by. They did seem to reflect the sunlight.
A chopper hovered over them. Wash from its rotors made it impossible to hear whatever the mechanical bullhorn voice had to say. A rope dropped out, and down it came with a man in a harness wearing a rescue diver’s uniform.
After that, it was hard to say what Dmytro remembered, and what he imagined.
Even though he argued they should take Ajax first, he was the first one they pulled to safety. Ajax argued he had a life vest and Dmytro was wounded. How did they still have energy to argue? Dmytro recognized shock when he saw it.
They really were fools in love.
Once they released him from the harness, he got a good look at the other passengers—the pilot, who hovered skillfully while the diver brought up Ajax, more medics, and Bartosz, whose pale face and bandaged shoulder told Dmytro how they’d been found.
“Did the tracker work? Your timing could have been better.”
Bartosz looked haggard. “Sorry I couldn’t come sooner. I was detained by an ER nurse with a passion for her job.”
Dmytro wasn’t about to cry. Not in front of strangers. But he gripped Bartosz’s good hand in both of his and held on tight. “Glad you made it, brother.”
Dmytro closed his eyes and waited anxiously while they pulled up Ajax, but once they got him on board, something strange began to happen. He felt—quite suddenly—ten times colder than he’d been during the time they’d spent in the water.
Every nerve ending in his skin woke up, sending agonizing pain to his brain all at once. His body shivered so violently Bartosz had to pile blankets on him. The medic got a line going in his arm, and things blurred even more after that. The other medic tended to Ajax.
He wanted to ask questions, to speak to Ajax, but he no longer had the strength.
The helicopter gave a sickening tilt and whirled away from the site of their brush with death.
Dmytro didn’t know where they were going. He only knew that when Bartosz showed him some pictures he’d taken from the helicopter with his phone, they showed large, dark shapes moving beneath them in the water.
Ajax blacked out first.
Chapter 27
AJAX WOKE in a hospital bed with his mom on one side and his dad on the other. His “uncle” Zhenya hovered by the doorway. He said he was splitting his time between Ajax’s room and the ER.
“Your quick thinking saved Dmytro’s life,” said Zhenya. “I can’t decide whether to hire you or refund your parents’ money.”
“Couldn’t you do both?” Violet Fairchild asked coolly.
Zhenya flushed. “Of course, Violet.”
“I’m kidding.” Violet’s sense of humor didn’t track for most people. She was too serious—too dangerous for anyone to laugh at her jokes. Maybe that’s what Ajax saw in Dmytro? Love and danger in equal measure? She held her hand out to him. “Once again, you saved my baby. I can’t thank you enough.”
Zhenya came forward. Jackson Fairchild looked on benignly. He turned every so often to read the numbers on the many machines silently scanning Ajax’s vitals.
“You’re out of the woods, son.” He cleared his throat. “Looks like you’re going to be fine.”
God, he hoped so. He and Dmytro had both suffered hypothermia in the frigid water. They’d slowly raised his core temperature, and now he could say he felt comfortable, if utterly drained.
His face throbbed where Chet had beaten him, every muscle ached, and it h
urt to breathe. The skin had tightened and cracked like leather. He’d have killed for his mother’s moisturizer. Maybe she’d sneak him some. They wouldn’t let him have a burger, but surely they’d let him have that?
“Dmytro’s got a concussion from the bullet that grazed him,” his father offered. “Combined with hypothermia, they’re not taking any chances. He’s being treated for the seizures—”
“Seizures?” Ajax tried to sit up, but his mother put her hand out to stop him.
His dad gave a slight wince. “He… um. From what they’ll tell me, he had a prior concussion with some seizure activity?”
Zhenya nodded. “The injury occurred a few months ago. Of course it was no longer affecting his performance on the job, but he couldn’t drive, which is why I sent him with Bartosz in place of Peter.”
“Peter.” Jackson’s lips tightened. “That bastard.”
“He’ll pay for what he’s done.” The Coast Guard caught Peter piloting the trawler alone. They assumed he killed the pilot and Chet, who probably believed he was going to be rich and meet pretty girls in Ukraine until the moment Peter put a bullet between his eyes.
Ajax hated that they still had the power to make him feel anything. He wasn’t afraid anymore. But he carried a kind of bottled-up rage.
Until Chet and Peter, Ajax didn’t know what evil was. Meeting it face-to-face had changed him.
“So Dmytro’s over the hypothermia,” his father brought his attention back, “but the stress of recent trauma seems to have triggered more seizures. They’ll want to keep a close eye on him. I imagine he’ll spend some time in ICU, where they can monitor his brain activity. Adjust his medications accordingly.”
“Will he be able to see his daughters?”
“That might have to wait until he’s in a regular room.”
Zhenya added, “Liv will be able to visit for a little while.”
“But who’s going to watch the girls while Liv’s with him?” Ajax asked.
“I will. Don’t worry.” Zhenya put a warm hand on Ajax’s shoulder. “Dmytro is one of my best men. I’ll take good care of him and his family.”
“He’s in good hands, Ajax.”
If Jackson believed it, it must be so. “Okay.”
“And he wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for you. You concentrate on you for a while,” said Violet.
As if he’d ever concentrated on anyone else.
The staff was doing everything they could. The girls were all right. Liv would be there for Dmytro. Zhenya would be there for Liv.
And they weren’t in the middle of the ocean anymore.
He remembered Dmytro’s advice: never say things can’t get worse.
“Then it’s all over?”
“We believe so. An arrest was made at the safe house—your Biblical critic’s name is Rafe King, and he was fully armed and ready to act on his threats.”
Ajax gulped. “Rafe was?”
Zhenya nodded. “He has several priors, including stalking, and he was wanted in connection with another hate crime. He will be spending a long time in prison.”
“Prison’s too good for him.” Violet growled the words.
“The rest,” Zhenya continued, “if we can believe Dmytro and Bartosz, was Peter’s doing, along with Chet.” He pulled a chair up and sat next to Ajax’s dad. “I don’t mind telling you, I never saw that coming. Peter was one of my original hires. We worked together for years. I was so certain of Peter, I’d have trusted him with my life.”
“Money makes people do all kinds of awful things.” Violet spoke as though she’d seen a lot of them firsthand.
“We didn’t know we were fighting our war on two fronts.” Zhenya lowered his gaze. “Peter used the zealot sending Ajax letters to drive him straight into his trap.”
Jackson said, “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Nevertheless, I’d couldn’t forgive myself if anything—”
“But it didn’t.” Jackson’s voice stayed gentle. “You got our boy back.”
Bedside manner was his A game. It was a shame he didn’t practice anymore, because he rarely got to use it except in situations like these.
“Your man Dmytro put the tracker in Ajax’s watch and he found a way to keep Ajax safe until they sank the boat around them. And your other man, Bartosz, found them in the middle of nowhere. I’d say that’s a job well done.”
“Dmytro had a blade in his boot or I’d still be duct-taped to the railing.” Ajax shivered. “The boat went down so fast. One minute she was there, and the next….”
“It’s horrible when you find out you can’t trust one of your own.” Zhenya glanced away.
“You were so bright and brave, little man.” Violet put a comforting hand on Ajax’s arm.
“Mom.” Ajax flushed.
“You saved the day in the end.” Jackson tried to hide his tears.
“It’s okay, Dad.” Jackson Fairchild was one of the strongest people he knew, and if something broke his heart, it had to be truly heartbreaking. He’d seen a thousand tragedies in the course of his career. His heart, soft though it might be, was his strength. His empathy a mighty weapon. He believed in miracles. As a doctor, he’d had the courage to live with the constant pain of failure and still work tirelessly for a cure.
Maybe that’s what Ajax had to offer a man like Dmytro.
Their possibilities weren’t nearly as far-fetched as Dmytro thought. He hid a smile.
“What was that just now?” Violet asked.
“Nothing.”
“You were smiling.” She was never gonna let something like that go.
He glanced at the machines as if he knew what all the numbers meant. “I was just thinking about Dmytro.”
Jackson sat back. “So. It’s like that, is it?”
“Like what?” Had his voice cracked?
“Oh, Ajax. Listen.” Shoot. That was the face she wore when she fired somebody, told them their pension was gone, and called security to escort them out of the building. “Baby.”
Uh-oh.
“You’ve been through an extremely traumatic experience,” she offered sweetly. “And it’s only natural that you should form a bond with Dmytro since you worked so hard together to solve your problems and stay alive. That was like a team-building exercise. Or a war.”
Ajax hid an inappropriate laugh. “One or the other.”
“Where do you take your colleagues for team building?” asked Zhenya.
“Uh, Violet, maybe now’s not the time.” Maybe his dad saw the numbers on those monitors rise to dangerous new levels.
“The thing is, honey,” she went on, oblivious, “I hope you’re not going to make any serious decisions right now, because my guess is you’ll be disappointed by the outcome. Things happen, and you feel one way. And that’s awesome. But then things change, is all. In the end, you’re still you. You have your life to live, and Dmytro is—”
“Don’t you dare say he’s just an employee.” Ajax gritted his teeth. “Don’t you dare.”
“Oh. That’s my cue.” Zhenya shot away from the wall. “I’m going to go check on Dmytro for you, Ajax. Would you like that?”
“Don’t handle me, please, Uncle Zhenya. But yes.”
He nodded once and left the room.
Violet watched him go. “I’m not going to say Dmytro’s an employee. He’s obviously much, much more than that. But he’s thirty-six years old. Nearly twice your age.”
“He has children, Ajax.” His dad met his mother’s worried gaze. “He obviously had a wife in the past whom he loved. He’s still very close with his sister-in-law. We just don’t want you to be hurt.”
“I know, but it’s not like that. I love him. Will he wake up and feel the same way about me? I don’t know. Where will I even be in a week, or a month, or a year from now? I have no clue. But that doesn’t change how I feel now.”
“You’ll be fine, no matter what. You know that, right?” Violet said. “You’ll be just fine.”
&
nbsp; Jackson cleared his throat. “We think you should come stay at the farm with us for a while.”
Ajax visualized “spending time” with his parents at their place in upstate New York. The farm always felt warm and cozy, especially in the fall, but his parents would only make it home on occasion—maybe once or twice a month—and work while they were there.
“Would you like that, sweetheart?” Violet asked. “We’d love to have you. We haven’t spent nearly enough time as a family since you graduated college.”
“I don’t know. I—” He blinked back tears. “I don’t know.”
Jackson held the tissue box for him, and he grabbed a few.
“Thanks.”
“My absolute pleasure.” His dad beamed at him.
Maybe it was his dad’s absolute pleasure to hand him a tissue. They thought they’d lost him forever. When he’d talked to them on the phone, they’d all believed he was saying goodbye forever.
“You know what?” he asked. “You guys are so awesome.”
“You’re kind of awesome yourself, little man.” Violet turned away so he couldn’t see her tear up.
“Mom,” he groaned.
“She’s right, though,” Jackson said. “Technically, we’re all awesome.”
“Here’s the thing.” Ajax prepared himself to let them down again, but this time only a little. “You only get to the farm so often. I spend the rest of the time rattling around in the house with the maid and the groundskeepers and that old guy—what does he even do again?”
Jackson cuffed his arm. “He’s your grandfather, son.”
“Oh, right.” Ajax bit back a smile. “You know I love all of them, but—”
“This time I’ll take time off,” his mother promised. “I swear it. Let me have my executive assistant go over my calendar and—”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“But son,” Jackson broke in, “we can. We will. I want to just… have breakfast with my boy again.” He turned to his wife. “Violet. Make him see reason. I want to take walks with him. Watch a ball game. Read the paper. We missed so goddamn much.”
She sighed. “Jackson.”
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