Because they’d stopped to shop and eat, it was early afternoon when he turned into the marina his cousin Giles once operated. It looked abandoned. He hadn’t expected that. The snow was blowing now, sticking on the windshield and flurrying in gusts that prevented him from seeing the road. There wasn’t a car anywhere, only a truck huddling against the other side of the building as if it were trying to stay warm.
Niko left the engine running while he tried the office door. Misha had said that Giles’s son operated the place now, but nobody answered his knock. He spent a few cold minutes walking around the building, trying desperately to find the proprietor.
There was nobody home, and from the looks of the area, nobody had been there for a while. Maybe they closed up for the winter. How in hell was he going to find a boat? He didn’t want to go any farther north. One Gypsy would protect another, but a stranger would identify him if anybody asked questions.
Giles always kept his own boat in the shack at the end of the dock. Maybe. Niko sprinted down the sagging planked walkway and peered inside—a boat, big enough and steady enough to get them to the island. It even had a cabin, where Karen would be protected from the elements.
Niko brushed aside any thought that he might be breaking and entering. Giles was family and so was his son, even if Niko didn’t know him. He’d explain later. In the meantime he smashed open the lock, found the boat keys in Giles’s old hiding place, and checked the fuel. Not a full tank, but enough. Next he tried the engine. After a few hiccupy coughs, it fired.
Now, for Karen.
He drove the Bronco as close to the truck as he could and cut off the motor. The snow wasn’t heavy, but it wouldn’t take long to cover their tracks.
If anyone came looking, they’d find it, but for now this was the best he could do. Swiftly he unloaded the supplies from the rear and stored them inside the boat.
Glancing at his watch and the weather, Niko forced himself to take it slow and easy. He was normally a careful man, an orderly man who worked out a problem and proceeded to find an answer. Haste made waste. But this time he felt a sense of urgency that made him move more quickly.
One last thing, he needed to check in with Mac. The public phone attached to the outside of the shack was working.
“We’re here,” Niko said when Mac picked up. “Or almost. I assume you’ve figured out where we’ll be.”
“I think so.”
“What have you learned about the reporter?”
“Seems he’s for real. He’s made finding the arsonist his personal crusade. Without her testimony, the son of a wealthy and prominent family will go free.”
“Why’d she run?”
“Nobody knows. She was a well-respected teacher, always considered a role model for her students. A little shy, innocent even, but tough and morally above reproach. How’s she doing?”
“Physically? Tired and weak. Emotionally? Confused, scared, and entirely too trusting.”
“So you’re a doctor. Heal her ills.”
“I don’t know, Mac. This isn’t a slide under a microscope I’m studying. Karen Miller is a real person, and frankly, she scares the hell out of me.”
“You’re her angel of mercy, Niko. It’s the result that counts here. You’ll do fine.”
But Niko didn’t feel like an angel of mercy. Angels were pure in thought and deed. Neither attribute had ever been applied to Nikolai Sandor.
A blast of wind slammed against him as he hung up the phone. Time to get his runaway schoolteacher on board. He hesitated one last minute about what he was doing, then started back. Once he’d taken the slow, sure way and he’d failed. Mac was right, this time he wouldn’t worry, he’d act.
He opened the door on Karen’s side, slid his arms under her slight body, and lifted her. She was lost in his sweatshirt and jacket, smelling of his soap and shaving lotion. A shudder of awareness raced through him.
He groaned silently.
Her eyes flew open. “Are we there yet?”
“Not yet. We have to cross the river now.”
“Is your name Moses?”
He blanched. “Moses?”
She smiled. “He parted the Red Sea. Or do you just walk on water?”
He felt her arms tighten around his neck as she nestled against his chest and wondered why she trusted him. She knew they didn’t have a past together, that the intimate memories he’d created for her were lies. Maybe it was more secure for her to pretend they did have a history together.
As he held her, he felt those imaginary scenes replay themselves in his mind. They felt almost real to him too. Too real. He was responding as physically as if he’d actually been with her.
“We’re going by boat,” he said as they reached the dock. The wooden planks groaned as he moved across them. The snow was falling on his face, catching and freezing in his lashes.
Once Niko moved inside the shack, the wind quieted and they were wrapped in a damp, still cold. He stepped into the boat and ducked down the steps to the tiny cabin. He laid Karen across the padded seat that doubled as a bed and covered her with one of the blankets from his supply bag.
“You’re going to be cold until we get to the lodge, but at least you’ll be out of the weather. The chop is high, but try not to worry. Once I was a pretty fair sailor.”
“I’m not worried,” she said, and closed her eyes.
Niko was very much afraid that she ought to be. He’d gained his experience as a sailor when he was ten years old and had spent a summer doing odd jobs for a fishing captain in Baton Rouge. That was a long time ago.
The river end of the metal building was open. The boat’s motor ran rough for a few minutes, then settled down into a steady rhythm. Niko pushed on the throttle and felt the craft lurch forward.
He steadied his hand as they moved out into the water. From the shack he rounded the point and headed straight up the river. During the daylight hours, the island was usually visible from that point, but today he couldn’t see it at all. Things were going to be a little dicey.
As he left the inlet and the stand of fir trees that sheltered the cove, the wind was behind him, blowing the snow ahead instead of against his face. That was a break. Keeping the boat steady became easier once they were in more open waters with less current. The boat seemed to skim the waves, and their progress went much faster than he’d anticipated.
In just a few minutes he caught sight of a blur of land. Slade Island. The lodge was built at the top of a land mound that rose abruptly from the sea. Stands of maples and oak were bare now, leaving only the wild tangles of brush showing green beneath the snow.
In winter it looked foreboding and desolate. And for a moment, all the memories of that day came crashing back. His sister had met him at the marina, where they’d shared coffee and stale doughnuts. She’d been so young, so fragile. He hadn’t known then how fragile she was. She’d met her future husband and he wasn’t at all what she’d expected.
Niko had sensed right away that something had changed. Where she’d been afraid before, now she was stoic, almost resigned. She’d decided to marry her father’s chosen successor. Nothing Niko said had changed her mind. The most he could get from her that morning was her promise to wait until the next day instead of having the ceremony that night. In the end, he couldn’t stop her. It was as if she were sacrificing herself for the good of the tribe. She’d become the wife of the man she’d feared only days before. Niko had never returned to the island.
Until now.
For a time Niko kept the boat heading against the waves. But as he neared the island, he was forced to angle it to the right, catching the wake against the side of the boat in a lurching motion.
Niko hoped Karen didn’t get seasick. He hoped she was able to stay on the bench. But he couldn’t check on her now. He let out a sigh of relief when he caught sight of the dock. They were going to make it.
Until then he’d worried, but he hadn’t allowed himself to face the possible consequences of his act
. Promising Karen that he’d take her to Slade Island had been risky. But it had become symbolic of success, at least the possibility of it.
The journey had been easy, but he wasn’t going to dock the boat without difficulty. He could see that as the waves drove the craft toward the covered boathouse with alarming speed. He put the boat in reverse, trying desperately to slow their progress. The power of the engine helped, but they still plowed into the enclosure like a bat out of hell, slamming against the pier and splintering it.
“What happened?” Karen stood at the head of the steps, her blue eyes wide with fear.
He cut the engine and dropped the rope around its hitch. “We just arrived a little faster than I’d planned, princess. But we’re here, just like I promised.”
“Slade Island,” she whispered, and took a step forward. “Now where’s your white horse?”
Then she seemed to collapse.
SIX
Friday the 13th—plus fourteen hours—Slade Island
Niko caught her, then, holding her in his arms, stepped out of the boat onto the dock. She hadn’t fainted, she’d just reached the end of her endurance.
Though it was only early afternoon, it was almost dark. The wind had slowed, but the snow still fell intermittently. Niko studied the woman in his arms. He was torn over whether to leave Karen in the boat until he opened the house, or take her along. Either way, she was going to be cold until he could get a fire going.
“How far is the lodge?” she asked, her eyes closed, fatigue evident in her voice.
“Too far for you to walk. But by the time I get a fire going and come back for you, you’ll be a chunk of ice. I’m sure there is wood, but I don’t know about the furnace.”
“Take me with you.”
“Can you stand for a minute while I wrap the blanket around you?”
“Certainly. Lean me up against a post and I’ll hang on.”
Niko did as she said, but he hurried, convinced that only her strong will held her up.
After making certain that the boat was secure, he wrapped the blanket around her and headed up the path. When the log building loomed before them, he was both relieved and hesitant. Childhood memories died hard, and this wasn’t a place where he’d been happy.
He walked up the steps and onto the porch and then let Karen down, balancing her with one arm while he searched above the door for the key. None there. The wind picked up again and Niko knew that he had to get her inside.
Finally, at the end of his rope, he reared back and planted a solid kick against the door. It swung open, revealing a cold, dark hallway.
“If I remember,” he said, lifting her once more, “the fireplace is straight ahead.” He was right about the fireplace and the wood. Niko planted Karen in a huge chair pulled close to the fireplace and covered her with her blanket and an afghan he found folded neatly on the footstool nearby.
The last occupants had left the fire laid and a tall tin of matches on the hearth. Moments later the dry wood was blazing. He warmed his hands, then looked around. A thin layer of dust confirmed that nobody had been there in some time.
“Will you be all right while I go back to the boat?”
But she didn’t answer. She was asleep.
That was just as well. He didn’t know how long it would take him to make the place livable. Pausing for a moment to satisfy himself that her pulse was normal, he turned back to the door.
The lodge was old when he was a boy, built before the Civil War, he’d been told. As a child he’d thought it looked like an ancient fortress on a base of silver granite, and he’d always dreaded the meetings held there. Now it was even more daunting, and he wished he’d found another hideaway for Karen.
The sky was gray and thick. Niko needed to move quickly, while there was still enough light to see.
It took three trips to transfer all the goods they’d bought, but it was done. After adding more wood to the fire, Niko took his newly purchased flashlight and made his way to the cellar and the furnace. He had always been good with his hands, but mechanics weren’t his strong point.
Two hours later he’d turned on the water, fired up the oil furnace and the gasoline-powered generator. He was dirty, hungry, and worried.
Granted, he’d gotten Karen away from her pursuer, but was bringing her to an island in the middle of winter any safer? Had he gotten carried away, letting his own needs and desires color his judgment?
Well, it was too late to worry about that now. They were on Slade Island, and as Mac had suggested, sometimes the ends justified the means. Now it was up to him to make everything right.
At the top of the steps he went through the kitchen, up the hallway past the stairs leading to the second floor, and into the great room that was the center of the lodge. He stood in the darkness, the sound of his breath echoing in the cavernous, empty room.
In the silence he heard the echoes of the past. The last time he’d been there, the house had been packed with people. Musicians kept up a lively pace on the porch overlooking the bonfires set between the lodge and the river. Inside the great room the men had gathered, passing on the events of the past year and discussing the future.
Except for Niko, who never would have come at all if it hadn’t been for his sister. He’d left that vagabond lifestyle behind and had no intention of returning. Until she’d learned that she was to be married to the future king of the tribe, a man twice her age, a man she didn’t even know.
Only Niko could help her. Only Niko could make their father change his mind.
As always, he’d refused his father’s order to attend the gathering. But he couldn’t refuse his sister.
The bastard Romano Sandor was the king. Everybody was expected to follow his orders. But this time he’d gone too far. This time Niko wanted to kill the man who’d given him life. As a boy, he’d tried to love his father, tried to accept what was expected of him. He could even understand the marriage his father had arranged for his daughter. He’d guessed the future groom was Romano’s heir apparent. Until he heard about the money.
He should have known about that too. The old fox was going to keep control of the tribe and make a profit at the same time. He was going to sell his own daughter to do it, either that or force Niko to become the next leader.
But in the end he hadn’t been able to stop her. Katrina Karen Sandor, his little sister, had married the man her father had chosen.
It hadn’t been his sister who called him the next time, it had been Mac. Karen had taken an overdose of drugs and was in a coma. She was at his sanitarium at Shangrila. Niko hadn’t hesitated. He’d gone to her. He hadn’t saved her the first time she’d needed him, and he failed the second time as well. Karen died in his arms, still unconscious.
Now the shadows became phantoms that danced down the hall and hid in the corners, calling out to him, mocking him. His father was dead now, but he still heard his voice. His sister was gone too, but sometimes, late at night, he could still hear her crying. Twice he’d had a chance to rescue her. Twice he’d failed. The last time he’d walked away, he’d renounced his Gypsy heritage forever.
But being in this cold, dark place brought it all back, the tight reins of tradition and his fierce determination to turn his back on a way of life where, in the twentieth century, a woman was sold for gold.
The fire in the great hall was blazing, warming the air, if not yet heating the room. Karen was still sleeping, her face pale, yet tinged with a blush of color. He hesitated to touch her for fear that she’d wake. While he’d spent most of the previous day trying to rouse her, he knew that now she needed rest.
The second floor wouldn’t be comfortable until the next day. For that night, he’d make pallets before the fire. There was a bathroom off the kitchen, and the cook stove would offer some additional heat to the room. First he’d heat some water to clean himself up, then see about some food.
This time Karen’s dream was not of a Gypsy lover on a white horse with flowers and red ribbons
woven into its mane. This time there was wind and ice and snow. It swirled around her, closing off her sight, her very breath.
And there was fear.
A loud snap startled her awake. For a moment she didn’t know where she was. Then it all came filtering back—the hospital, the Gypsy who’d come to her first in her dream and later in the flesh. Then came the reality of another flight.
She glanced around at the overstuffed couches and chairs that formed little conversation areas throughout the massive high-ceilinged room. There were unlit lamps, windows with drawn blinds, and a silence that was anything but welcoming.
“Slade Island,” she whispered, and wondered at her unease. Somehow she couldn’t connect what she’d seen on her climb up from the boat with the picture Niko had created. There was certainly no sandy beach, warm, clear water, or golden lover. There was only granite and snow and the man who’d brought her there.
Gypsy Lover.
No, she corrected herself. She couldn’t think about him that way. Where was the brooding doctor who’d helped her flee the hospital, who’d kissed her, then pulled back as if he were sorry?
And then she felt his presence. She didn’t have to see him to know that he was there, behind her.
“Are you awake?” he asked.
“Yes.” She stretched her feet out before her, beyond the edge of the afghan, caught sight of her combat boots, and laughed at the incongruity.
“If I’d known combat boots would make you smile, I’d have brought some to the hospital,” he said.
“Where did I get these?” she asked, moving her ankles stiffly, “an army surplus store?”
“Nope. Kmart blue-light special,” he answered. “Don’t you remember?”
She wrinkled her brow, bringing into focus the picture of her leaving the medical facility in a blue hospital gown, covered with a white lab coat. Threading her fingertips curiously through the folds of the blanket, she found the gown had been replaced by a sweatsuit.
Yes, she remembered.
“You swiped somebody’s house shoes, didn’t you?”
“I did not. Those house shoes cost me fifty bucks.”
Mac's Angels : Sinner and Saint. a Loveswept Classic Romance (9780345541659) Page 8