Tangled Lies

by Connie Mann

“He went looking for you.”

  Sasha glanced up at the house, thinking, trying to make sure she didn’t miss something important. “How much have you told Mama and Pop?”

  “As little as possible. I let them think you were with Jesse. He took your Jeep.”

  Sasha tried to take a step, and the world spun. “I think I need to eat.”

  Blaze stepped over and wrapped an arm around her waist, keeping her upright. “A shower wouldn’t hurt, either.”

  “I need to get to Clearwater for the race.”

  Blaze’s eyes widened. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Jesse was really worried about you.” She looked Sasha up and down. “You’re bleeding, too.”

  “I’m fine. I just need to eat, I think. Will you grab me something with protein, while I shower? I need to get there on time. Jesse needs to win this race.” She stopped and looked deep into Blaze’s eyes. “It’s important.”

  Blaze started walking. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Just don’t pass out and crash, OK?”

  Sasha smiled. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

  Sasha hurried upstairs and took a quick shower, wincing when she saw the bruise on her cheek and the scratches all over her arms. She reached for her mariner’s cross and stopped. It was gone. Unexpected panic filled her. It was her last link to her biological family; it was her anchor. She wanted to rush out and find it, but Jesse needed her more. She tried to remember when she’d touched it last and decided she must have lost it in the barn or on the way home.

  She doctored the gash on her leg with a couple of butterfly bandages, since it still wanted to bleed. She braided her hair before she took a few minutes to cover the bruises on her face to limit explanations.

  When she returned to the kitchen, Blaze handed her a plate of scrambled eggs, several slices of bacon and cheese, and two pieces of buttered toast. Sasha gave her a quick hug before she could pull away, then piled all the food onto the bread for a sandwich. She washed it down with a big glass of milk and glanced at the clock.

  Pop came in. “Sasha. There you are.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.

  She rinsed her glass and grabbed a ball cap. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Go where?”

  “Clearwater. The race starts soon.”

  Their eyes met, and he studied her face for a long moment, his look troubled. “I don’t think this is a good idea, Sasha, given . . . everything that’s happened lately.”

  Sasha raised her chin. “Which is exactly why I’m going. Somebody thinks they got Jesse out of the race. So I’ll go on his behalf.” Now was not the time to express her worry that maybe her own kidnapping could have something to do with the race. Though she still wasn’t sure how.

  “I worry for you, Sasha.”

  His words pierced her heart, but she pushed them away. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I know, Pop. But I need to do this.”

  “Where’s Jesse?”

  Sasha grabbed the small cooler filled with water Blaze handed her, and sent her a grateful smile. “I don’t know. He must be running late. You coming to the race?” As soon as the words slipped out, she wanted to call them back. “I wasn’t thinking. Take care of Mama. Wish me luck.”

  “You go, Pop. I’ll take care of Mama,” Blaze said.

  Sasha turned and grabbed her in a quick hug before she could protest. “Thanks, Blaze,” she whispered.

  “It’s Bethany,” Blaze hissed.

  Sasha stopped, halfway out the door. “What?”

  “My name is Bethany.” Her chin came up, challenge in her eyes.

  “It’s a beautiful name. Thanks for telling me. See you later.” She rushed down the dock, smiling. Blaze, aka Bethany, would be all right.

  Sasha let herself into Jesse’s shed and fished the boat key out from where he kept it hidden. She hopped aboard The Painted Lady and turned the blower on, checked the fuel levels—bless Pop for filling the tanks!—and ran through her pretrip checklist.

  Within minutes she was heading south, the clock ticking in her head. She had to get there in time. She had to. Luckily, The Painted Lady could get her there with no trouble. Jesse had her purring like a kitten. There wasn’t much wind today, so the water was pretty calm, too, which helped.

  The farther she went, the better she felt. She flung her head back and laughed at the feel of the wind in her face and the sun on her back. There was no other feeling like it in the entire world.

  She could do this. She’d win this race. For Jesse.

  Sasha’s footprints ended at the side of the road. Jesse figured either she’d kept walking on the pavement, or someone had given her a ride, since there was no sign of her on the arrow-straight road.

  He heard a vehicle behind him, but instead of flagging it down, he ducked into the bushes. Something about the engine sounded familiar. The hair on the back of his neck stood up when he saw the same pickup he’d seen that morning.

  He waited, searching his memory.

  He thought back to his breakfast at the Blue Dolphin with Bella, and the pieces clicked. He’d glanced out the window and seen that same truck turning into the street from the alley where he’d parked his truck.

  Was he spinning conspiracy theories like a lunatic? Maybe, except that ten minutes later his truck exploded.

  When the truck made a U-turn and headed back in his direction, Jesse eased farther back into the underbrush. They were looking for him.

  Or for Sasha. She’d said she’d seen what looked like an ancient pickup the night she saw the minisub. He’d bet money he saw the same one this morning. Which meant these were the people after him—and Sasha.

  He had to get to the marina. Make sure she was safe. And then, get hold of Nick. If these guys had a minisub in the water, armed with torpedoes no less, he knew they wouldn’t hesitate to kill either of them.

  As soon as the truck disappeared from view, he started running toward Safe Harbor.

  His ribs hurt so badly he could barely draw breath. He had slowed to a walk, trying to take shallow breaths so he could pick up the pace again, when a big boat of a Buick pulled in behind him and Mrs. Robertson hopped out. Hard to imagine the tiny woman could maneuver that barge, but she did. She rushed over to him.

  “Jesse Claybourne, are you all right? You look terrible, young man.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Robertson. Any chance you could give me a ride to Safe Harbor?”

  “Of course. But aren’t you supposed to be in that big highfalutin race today in Clearwater?”

  Jesse climbed in the passenger seat and sighed as his aching body sank into the soft leather. “Yes, ma’am. But my ribs won’t let me.”

  She started the car with a roar, and Jesse studied her for a moment as she eased onto the highway at thirty-five miles per hour.

  “Mrs. Robertson, I really need to get to the marina. Sasha may be in danger.”

  Her eyes widened behind her spectacles, and she gripped the steering wheel. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” She clenched her jaw and stomped down on the accelerator, and the car rocketed down the highway like it had been shot from a cannon.

  When they arrived at the marina in a spray of gravel, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mrs. Robertson.”

  “You look out for our Sasha, young man.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I intend to.”

  When she barreled out of the parking lot, Bella raced up to him, Blaze hot on her heels. “Where have you been?”

  He looked over at The Painted Lady’s empty slip, and his heart kicked into overdrive. Please, God, don’t let her have gone to Clearwater. But in his heart, he knew. He looked back at Blaze. “Sasha’s on The Lady?”

  Blaze nodded. “Headed for Clearwater like her pants are on fire.”

  “Where’s Sal? I need a boat.”

  “He just went down to the marina store to get something. Then he’s going to Clearwater to watch the race. Mama had a rough morning, but she’s sleeping now.”

  He leaned over and kissed her foreh
ead. “Thanks for holding down the fort, Blaze.” Then he ran to the marina store as fast as his ribs would let him.

  Jesse burst into the store and headed straight for the office in the back. “Sal, I need a boat.”

  Sal’s head snapped up. “Thank God you’re OK. What’s wrong?”

  “I need to intercept Sasha. You have a boat I can borrow?”

  To his credit, Sal didn’t waste time asking questions. He simply reached into a drawer and tossed him a key.

  “She’s in the last slip on the south side. Tank’s full. You need me to ride with you?”

  “No thanks. But I appreciate it.” He turned to go. “You going to Clearwater?”

  Sal nodded. “Absolutely. How can I help?”

  Jesse thought for a moment. “Knowing you’ll be there means a lot. If I need anything else, I’ll let you know.”

  “I don’t know what’s going on, Jesse, but you keep my girl safe, you hear?”

  “That’s the plan, Sal.” He held up the keys. “Thanks.”

  He hopped into the boat, started her up, and raced out of the marina.

  If only he could get there in time.

  Chapter 21

  Sasha made it to the small marina just north of Clearwater with scant minutes to spare. She tied up at one of the slips and raced into the marina office just in time to check in with the race official and refuel the boat.

  “Captain Sasha Petrov of The Painted Lady of Safe Harbor Marina, on behalf of owner Jesse Claybourne,” she announced, hand outstretched.

  The man looked her up and down as he shook her hand. “Do you have credentials?”

  Sasha merely raised a brow as she reached into her hip pocket. “Of course.” She handed him her captain’s license and other official paperwork, hoping he wouldn’t question Jesse’s absence.

  “You just made it. Starting gun is in thirty minutes.” He handed her a T-shirt with a number pinned to the back of it. “Good luck.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Relieved, she shook his hand again, then ducked into the ladies’ room to don the shirt before heading back outside. It didn’t take long at all before she was out in deeper water, idling at the starting line with the other vintage power boats.

  A quick glance showed she was the only lady captain, but she wasn’t worried. Let them send her their smug looks and nod like they were so superior. She’d show them soon enough.

  She was going to get Jesse that prize. She could feel it.

  The announcer started jabbering and the boats moved into position. Another boat, two feet longer than The Painted Lady, tried to edge her out of position, but Sasha held The Lady steady, forcing the other boat to back off or risk bumping into her. The man glared, and Sasha smiled serenely.

  She wouldn’t show her hand too early. Let them think she didn’t have a clue.

  As soon as the starting gun fired, she hit the throttle. The Lady leaped under her commands and soon she was in fourth place, gaining on the number three boat.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw something in the water ahead at about one o’clock, and her heart skipped a beat. What was that? She eased The Lady farther west to avoid whatever it was that bobbed just below the surface.

  Sasha kept her eyes on the boats ahead of her, with quick glimpses behind to see who was gaining on her. So far so good. The other boats were maintaining speed behind her.

  She glanced over at what she’d seen, and suddenly her brain registered what it was.

  The minisub! What was it doing out here in open water—and barely submerged? If someone wasn’t paying attention, they’d run right into it.

  She gave it wide berth as the boats raced down the straightaway, everyone holding their position.

  They made the first turn without a problem and were heading back toward the marina when Sasha spotted some idiot racing right toward them—from the wrong direction. Was the guy crazy? What was he doing?

  Sasha lost sight of him as the boats made the next turn, passing in front of the grandstands on shore and the cheering crowds. She dutifully waved, but never took her eyes from the boats around her. While the other captains were busy smiling and waving, Sasha inched the throttle forward and The Lady eased into the number-three spot. The crowd went wild, but Sasha ignored them. Only two more laps to go and she could win that money for Jesse.

  She made the next turn, and suddenly the Griffon, which had tried to get her spot at the starting line, pushed ahead of her, forcing her to slow or risk a collision. Sasha eased back on the throttle, then picked up speed again.

  She could so win this.

  Jesse thought his heart would hammer right out of his chest when he saw that idiot try to maneuver right under The Lady’s bow. Was the guy nuts?

  Sasha didn’t panic, though; she just eased around him and, in a burst of speed, got The Lady back into the number-three slot.

  Win or lose, he’d be forever grateful. But right now, he had to find that sub, see what they were up to. He throttled back, looking over the area he thought he had seen it in. He waited, scanning, always scanning, and was rewarded when sunlight glinted off the bubble dome.

  It had moved and now bobbed right in line with the boats currently at the other end of the racecourse. What were they planning?

  He maneuvered Sal’s little johnboat back around and idled behind the minisub. He watched as the boats came screaming toward them again, but he kept his eyes glued to the little submarine. He rummaged around under the seat and could have kissed Sal when he found a pair of binoculars. The glass was a bit cloudy, but he wiped the lenses on his T-shirt and trained his eyes on the minisub.

  As the boats raced past his location, Jesse finally caught a glimpse of the operator, a man, fiddling with the console, aiming the minisub directly at Sasha. The man’s eyes never left The Painted Lady.

  A wave brought the sub partway up out of the water, and Jesse caught a glimpse of what was underneath. His blood ran cold as his suspicions were confirmed.

  Dear Jesus, they’d mounted the two torpedoes on the minisub. He couldn’t let him hurt Sasha. He reached over and pulled on a life jacket, tightening the straps. Then, as the boats rocketed toward him again, he set his little boat on a course straight for the minisub. He whipped off his belt and used it to secure the throttle in position, hoping it was enough to keep the boat moving in a straight line.

  He got as close as dared, keeping out of the sub’s line of sight until the last possible moment, which wasn’t hard, since the operator was completely focused on Sasha and The Lady.

  Just before his johnboat crashed into the minisub, Jesse leaped off the boat.

  He surfaced just in time to see the two vessels collide.

  And explode.

  “Sorry, Sal,” he muttered, treading water.

  He watched the racers take note of the commotion and steer clear of the burning wreckage and floating debris.

  Once they passed him again, he started swimming toward shore. Sasha had been in the number-two spot when she went by. He had no doubt she would win.

  He tried not to think about whoever had been in that sub.

  When what looked like a fireworks barge exploded just outside the racecourse, Sasha gripped the steering wheel and tried not to let it distract her or throw her off course. Had someone detonated them too early? Was there a fireworks display planned for later? She had no idea, but she couldn’t worry about it right this second.

  She had one more lap to get The Lady into first place. She pushed the throttle farther forward, and The Lady increased speed. The Grey Goose in the lead wasn’t going to make it easy. As Sasha tried to pass on the starboard side, the Goose moved in front of her, keeping her just behind him the whole way.

  As they entered the last turn, Sasha decided to let him get a little bit ahead so he’d relax, maybe get a little cocky. The minute he did, she gunned the throttle, and The Lady blew right past him and across the finish line.

  Sasha eased back on the throttle and headed back to the marina, a
satisfied smile on her face. She’d done it. She’d won the race for Jesse.

  As she approached the marina, she scanned the crowds lining the dock, hoping to spot him, but if he was there, she couldn’t find him. Anxiety slid down her spine. Surely by now he knew she’d taken The Lady. Where was he?

  Not far from the grandstand, she spotted Pop. He tipped his hat, and the gesture made her heart clench. “Love you,” she mouthed, and he blew her a kiss and gave her a thumbs-up.

  Where was Jesse?

  She secured The Painted Lady and let a race official congratulate her and lead her to the podium, where they handed her an enormous trophy and a big fat check. She smiled as the cameras flashed, but all she wanted was to get away, to find Jesse.

  Something wasn’t right. Blaze said someone blew up his truck.

  She thought of the explosion on the water and spun in a circle, scanning the crowd, looking for him.

  “Sasha!” Pop called, elbowing his way through the throng. She wrapped her arms around him, surprised at how weak her knees felt all of a sudden.

  “You did good, Sasha, mia bella.”

  She pulled back to look at him. “Where’s Jesse?”

  He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t know.” He took her hand. “We should go. Leave The Lady here. We’ll come back for her.”

  Sasha nodded. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, bone-deep exhaustion was setting in. All around them, people were talking about the explosion. Official boats milled around the site, lights flashing.

  “Do you know what happened?” Sasha asked as Pop led her through the crowd.

  “I’m not really sure.”

  Reporters swarmed around her, thrusting microphones in her face. Sasha stopped, held up a hand to get their attention. “I am honored to have won the race today and am grateful for the skill and great driving exhibited by all the captains in the race today. Thank you.”

  “What did you think when you saw the boat explode?” a balding reporter asked.

  Sasha’s smile vanished, and her anxiety reached new levels. “I was unaware it was a boat. I thought some fireworks detonated early. Is the captain OK?”