Maybe she wasn’t just a job to him…
He tilted her chin to examine the thin slice that stung on her neck while the medic worked on the more serious gash on her calf.
“You need to get to a hospital,” he said.
He was concerned about her. It didn’t mean he loved her. Or that they had a future together. She drew away from him, realizing no matter how much she wanted him, she needed to stand on her own two feet.
He was a cop.
And she was a case.
She was finally learning to accept she had psychic abilities. She should be grateful for one mercy at a time. Now she had to work through the grief and guilt of her family’s betrayal, and then maybe she could cope with losing Ben.
She’d been heartbroken before.
She’d survived once.
She’d survive again.
“We need to get you out of those wet things, miss. You too, sir.” The medic had a serious expression on his face. “Hypothermia is a real risk—”
Sorcha stood and pulled off her sweater, then began unbuttoning her jeans, pausing as she caught Ben’s gaze, remembering another time not so long ago.
His eyes were still impenetrable and forbidding, but they concealed a twinkle of amusement. He didn’t scare her anymore. He was one of the good guys. And she loved him.
But his job was over. The bad guys were dead.
She looked away, bereavement stealing some of the joy of her survival.
The crewman handed her a dry T-shirt and sweatpants and then wrapped her in a silver blanket and forced her to sit back down. The splinters in her palms started to throb and there were blisters to match. And her head hurt and her jaw ached, but except for the slash on her leg—which the medic closed with surgical tape—her injuries were minor, and she wasn’t dead.
She just hurt.
Ben watched her whole time, but she ignored the pull. Resisted the desire to sink into his arms and let him take care of her. Her heart squeezed tight into a knot of anguish.
The medic kept treating her wounds, but finally she waved him away. “Please, I need a minute alone.”
He didn’t look pleased, but she didn’t care.
Another man loomed over her as Ben slumped at her side. The stranger stuck out his hand, and she shook it tentatively, wincing a little from her the cuts on her fingers.
The big man squatted on his haunches in front of her, a relief for her aching neck. “I’m Detective Sergeant Ewan McKnight. I know you’ve been through a terrible ordeal, Sorcha, but I need to ask you some questions.”
She nodded. She understood. She huddled deeper into the silver blanket. “Angus and Robbie attacked Carolyn. They told me they’ve been smuggling drugs for years.” The words rushed out. “And Robbie said Angus murdered my father and that Eileen Logan was dead.”
“She’s dead all right,” Ben muttered.
She glanced at him. The image from Robbie’s mind was etched on her brain forever.
“He also said he’d done something to Kevin,” she spoke quietly, “Kevin Cassidy, Carolyn’s boyfriend.” Sorcha didn’t want to upset Carolyn in case she could hear them.
Ben and Ewan exchanged a look. “We’ll check it out.”
Ben sat tense by her side, his stillness vibrating with frustrated energy. She wanted to touch him. Wanted to lay a hand on him and somehow ease his troubles. But he might not want her anymore.
“What happened to the speedboat?” Ewan raised his eyebrows. Ben started to answer, but Uncle Davy walked up and cut in.
“I shot at it to immobilize the engines,” Davy said, offering D.S. McKnight a gun, butt first. “Didn’t mean for the thing to blow up.”
Ben opened his mouth to say something, but Davy shook his head.
“I’ll never forgive myself for the mistakes I’ve made.” Davy touched her shoulder. She took comfort from the fact they’d both been fooled by those closest to them. “I’m resigning from the job as soon as I get back to the station.”
Ben’s mouth thinned. He looked as though he was about to speak, but Davy gave him a sharp look. “I’ll leave the youngsters to do the world some good, aye?”
Finally Ben nodded, then glanced at her, his eyes searching, but for what she didn’t know. A confession?
“I didn’t know about any of it.” She felt like a dunce. “Robbie was psychic, but I didn’t know. When we were on the boat he told me you were an undercover police officer.”
She read the truth in Ben’s dark eyes. She also recognized the skepticism on the other police officer’s face, but she plowed on. “He was evil.” Her body wouldn’t stop trembling.
“You’ll get a promotion for this, Foley.” Ewan McKnight positively glowed and Sorcha flinched, disgust rising in her throat. Robbie and Angus were dead, Carolyn was badly injured and the guy was celebrating. Sorcha pushed away from the seat, needing some space.
There was a shout from the wheelhouse. “We’ve picked up Peter Hughes and the cocaine.”
Sorcha’s mouth dropped open. She’d been set up from the moment she’d returned home. Played for a fool. She wanted to put her head on her knees and never speak to another human being, ever again.
Damn them.
The Coastguard finished putting marker buoys around the scene of the sunken boats and the engines geared up.
“Where are we heading?” Ben asked.
“To the nearest hospital.” Ewan nodded toward Carolyn. “Medic’s worried about that young lady.”
Sorcha jammed her eyes shut and pulled the silver blanket tighter to her chest. “I moved her.”
“Without you, she’d be dead.” McKnight smiled, transforming his plain face into something handsome. He took her hand. “You were bloody marvelous.”
Tears brimmed. “I was so stupid. My uncle and cousin were drug dealers and I never had a clue.”
She hurt so much, but the physical injuries were only part of her pain. With a sob she finally let go and started to cry.
***
Ben set his teeth, his breath short and tight in his chest. Sorcha was covered in cuts and bruises after battling for her life, and she was still blaming herself. She’d climbed back into a sinking vessel to save Carolyn and she still thought she wasn’t worthy.
What would it take for her to realize just how special she was? For her to see how brave she was? Shutting his eyes, Ben let his head fall back. How the hell did he convince her of that?
His life was back on track.
The wild ride and plunge into the sea meant he could tolerate the water if he had to, but he didn’t have to like it. He’d destroyed the drug ring and had the closure he needed to move on with his career—justice for his dead partner and satisfaction for himself. But everything felt meaningless without Sorcha.
And she’d withdrawn because he’d lied to her. Once she got over her trauma, once she got over her ordeal, she was gonna be pissed. But he’d rather have pissed than this elusive hurt where she wouldn’t connect with him, wouldn’t talk.
She finally looked up, dark shadows revealing the trauma she’d endured.
“I don’t want to go home.” Her lips trembled. “I’m scared.”
Tentatively, he placed his arm over her shoulders and hugged her against his side. Her hair was a tangled mess from the sea, wrung out and straggling out of some makeshift bun she’d constructed. Her skin was ghostly white.
She was scared?
He’d never forget the sight of Robbie’s knife flashing in the spotlight, would never erase the image of Sorcha climbing back inside that burning trawler and then watching it sink.
Fear for her still drummed through his veins, made his hands shake. So he held on tight. “They can’t hurt you anymore, Sorch. They’re dead.”
The breath shuddered out of her body, and he watched the injured line of her throat as she swallowed. “What if they decide to haunt me too?”
He hadn’t thought of that.
Christ. He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ll do m
y damnedest to keep them away.” He’d nearly lost her today and that terrible experience had revealed a void in his life that would never be filled by any amount of work. Worry lines formed between her brows. Ben watched the leap of intuition in her eyes steamroll toward questions he didn’t want to answer.
The light in her eyes dimmed and died. “You thought I was involved with drug running, didn’t you?”
His heart beat loud enough to deafen him, but he didn’t lie. “Yeah.”
Her hands mangled one another and she blinked rapidly, as if clearing tears. “Sleeping with the enemy? Well, it was all for a good cause, wasn’t it.”
He leaned over her, eyes intent on her face. Did she really think he’d slept with her just because of the job?
“The first time we had sex, I figured I’d totally screwed up,” he admitted. No more deception. “And that day on the Isle of May? After you left I found forty kilos of cocaine in the lighthouse where you stored your gear.”
She drew back.
“Then Ewan found a Swiss bank account in your name with over a million pounds in it.”
“Get out.” The wrinkle in her brow told him she didn’t believe him. She fidgeted, the survival blanket glistening under the boat lights. “I don’t have a Swiss bank account.”
He smiled bitterly. “Yeah, you do.” It was the only good news from this entire freaking mess. “Your father’s journals listed bets he’d made, and he talked about putting money away for when you were older.”
“Bets?” she asked. “He made money from gambling?”
“The man was a genius.” Ben hesitated. What would she do with all that cash? Would she want a guy like him hanging around if she was rich?
“Why didn’t I know about the money? His solicitor should have contacted me.” She really didn’t believe him.
“I have no clue.” Ben stood up and stepped away from her. He wanted to hold her and comfort her, but she might not want him now she knew everything. “Your father’s journals officially cleared your name.”
“That’s why you took them?” Her blue eyes searched his. Then she grabbed his wrist.
“He knew Angus was smuggling drugs?”
Ben nodded.
“I still don’t get it. Why were you investigating me?”
Hell, it seemed like so long ago now. “I was working in Colombia and got a lead. A phone call to a drug lord in South America was traced to your address in Anstruther.”
“I don’t know anyone in Colombia.”
“I guess Robbie or Angus made the call.” It was going to take some explaining how a Scottish fisherman knew about an undercover DEA agent thousands of miles away. He could just picture the raised eyebrows when they read the words psychic or remote viewing in his report.
“I closed it down in Colombia, but I lost my partner doing it. And I swore I’d nail every last sonofabitch in the chain.” Ben didn’t know if he was brave enough to handle her rejection, but she deserved to know everything. “I know that you’re not part of the trafficking ring. You never did anything to deserve this and I was wrong to sleep with you when I was withholding information.”
She viewed herself as weak, yet there were few people in the world who’d have risked their lives for Carolyn the way she had tonight.
And now he was about to take the biggest risk of his life. “Sorcha, I love you.” He clasped her shoulders. “I wish things had been different, I wish I could have told you the truth right at the start, but I’m not sure that I’d have done anything different. This is my job.”
She looked away.
“Would you have believed me, if I’d told you about the drugs?”
She shook her head. “Probably not. Davy, Robbie and Angus were all I had left.”
The punch to his ego stung. She hadn’t responded to his declaration of love. No starry-eyed throwing herself at his feet, not this girl. He’d be better off making a clean break, instead he cupped her cheek. “You’ve got me, for as long as you want me.”
What if she didn’t want him? He stood there waiting for her to break his heart and finally remembered why he didn’t do personal relationships.
Because they hurt like hell.
Determined to fight for what he wanted, he pointed at the ocean. “That was scary. That was a freaking nightmare. But compared to losing you, it’s nothing.” His voice broke.
She raised her lips and kissed him. Her desire, her forgiveness, eased into him until the tension died from his body.
“I love you, Ben.” She pressed her cheek to his chest where his heart was beating way too fast. “But it terrifies me.” Relief swelled inside him, but when she lifted her eyes sadness shone from their depths and twisted up his insides. “You live in the States, and I live here.”
He had a second chance and he wasn’t going to blow it. He took a deep breath. “You have three years until you finish your Ph.D. Right?”
“Two years, nine months.”
Too long to spend on different continents.
“Well.” He gathered his courage. “There’s a job I’ve applied for, based in London. It involves a lot of traveling, but I think now, thanks to this case, I’ve got a good shot at it.”
His fingers massaged her fingers, twisted one of her rings. “I may even be able to get it transferred up to Paisley. Otherwise I’ll be collecting a lot of air miles. If you can stand having me around.” He waited a second, not quite ready to believe in the hope surging in her eyes. There was one more thing. “I need to go back to the States after that. My mom is getting older, and I can’t leave her alone forever.”
She nodded, understanding the need for family even though hers had betrayed her.
“We could get married.” He held his breath. Suddenly he understood why people put their heart on the line—for the chance, the slim, fragile possibility, of being one of the lucky ones who got the whole shebang.
She closed her eyes, nodding as tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn’t cry pretty, but he’d do his damnedest to make sure she never cried again.
He kissed her, wrapped his arms around her. It wouldn’t be an easy road, but they’d get there. They’d protect each other from ghosts and demons, bitter old men and loneliness.
They’d make it work.
Epilogue
Two months later, Sorcha knelt on a blanket beside her father’s grave. Weak sunshine caressed her cheek, and a slight breeze tangled her hair and pulled down an intricate curl from the top of her head. The earth smelled fresh and cold and clean after overnight snow and a hard frost.
Iain Logan’s ghost had disappeared the same night Robbie died, as if his job was finally over. She swallowed tightly. She missed her father, especially today, but figured she’d meet up with him eventually. She’d donated his money to a drug rehabilitation program—figured it was the least she could do under the circumstances.
The voices, her guides, still spoke to her, though she had more control now. The more she learned about her gifts, the less strange she felt. She was living a normal life, albeit with spirit guides—like guardian angels—watching over her.
Ben placed a warm hand on her shoulder, squeezed and smiled down at her with those heart-melting black eyes. He wore a charcoal three-piece suit and looked incredible. Careful of her dress, she let him help her up. Took a single long-stemmed rose from her bouquet and placed it beneath her father’s angel. Then she turned to look at the wedding party, a mix of scientists and law enforcement, all pretending not to watch.
Uncle Davy. Poor, poor Uncle Davy. The wrinkles on his face were deeper, although some of the stress had lifted since his retirement. Ewan McKnight was doing his best to make Carolyn laugh. Her injuries had healed, but despite the smile she wore, Sorcha doubted she was over her ordeal. Nick Archer had his arm wrapped around a pregnant-looking professor. Kevin acted more subdued now his addiction had been revealed. He’d only narrowly survived his own near-death experience.
One other very special lady was also in attendance.
/>
Ben’s mother stood with her hands clasped in front of her. A timid woman, but Sorcha wondered if Ben recognized the strength contained within that slight frame.
He took her hand, rubbed her new ring between his thumb and forefinger, and kissed her. She kissed him back and heard bells ringing. Not all of them were outside her head.
About the Author
Toni Anderson is a former marine biologist who conducted her Ph.D. at the Gatty Marine Laboratory in St. Andrews, Fife, Scotland. She was born and raised in the UK, but now lives in the harsh but beautiful Canadian prairies with her husband and two children, living about as far from the ocean as possible. Her stories are set in the stunning locations where she’s been lucky enough to live and work—the blustery east coast of Scotland, the remote, isolated mining communities of Northern Labrador, the rugged landscapes of the U.S. and the Red Center of Australia. She escapes the long brutal winters by writing romantic mystery and suspense stories.
For hobbies she loves traveling, photography, painting, drawing and walking—especially on the beach with a big hairy mutt splashing in the shallows.
Toni’s first romantic suspense, Her Sanctuary, was released in 2009. Readers can sign up for her newsletter on her website, http://tonianderson.shawwebspace.ca, plus, you can become a fan of her books or add her as a friend on Facebook.
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