The Renegade

by J. R. Ward

  She glowed with good health, positively radiated strength and vitality. Next to her Cass felt like a shrub with frost burn.

  “Hi, I’m looking for Alex Moorehouse. He said he lived here.” The woman looked around with sapphire eyes. “But I must have the wrong address.”

  “He, ah, he lives in the shop.”

  “You mean the barn? Oh, great. Thanks.” The woman turned away.

  “Who are you?” Cass asked quietly.

  “Madeline Maguire. I’m his navigator.” She flashed a smile. Naturally, her teeth were perfect and as white as tile.

  “Mad Dog.”

  The woman laughed, a deep, husky sound. “You must be a friend of his.”

  “Not really. No.”

  Mad Dog gave her an odd look. “Well, anyway. Thanks for the redirection.”

  Cass went to one of the few windows that had some glass left in it and watched the woman jog up to the shop, her body moving with the power and agility of a superior athlete.

  Just like Alex’s did.

  Cass collected her things and shut off the generator. She was about to leave when the plastic flap was thrown to the side again.

  Madeline smiled, warmth and apology combined. “If he’s not there, you wouldn’t happen to know where he might have gone?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t.” But then she remembered seeing Spike arrive and leave about an hour ago. “Wait. He probably went into town. He shouldn’t be long.”

  At that moment the Honda came down the drive and pulled up to the shop.

  “Here he is.”

  The woman glanced over her shoulder. “I wonder how this is going to go,” she said softly.

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s been a while and a lot has happened,” Madeline murmured. “God, look at him move. So carefully.”

  Alex eased out of the car and leaned on his cane while he waved Spike off. Before he started for the shop, he eyed the black Dodge Viper the woman had evidently come in.

  “Mad Dog!” he called toward the shop. “Where are you?”

  Mad Dog, Madeline, whatever her name was, burst out of the plastic and jogged with that awful grace across the lawn.

  Cass followed, going to her car.

  “I’m right here,” the woman said.

  Alex looked over his shoulder. The woman stopped about ten yards away from him.

  “Hey, girl,” he said, as he turned around.

  “Captain.”

  He smiled slowly. “So you gonna hug me or just keep staring at me like you’ve seen a ghost?”

  The woman let out a soft sob and galloped into his arms.

  As their bodies melded, Cass closed her eyes.

  Fumbling for her keys, she got in the Rover and drove to Gray’s. When she was parked in front of the house, she put her head down on the steering wheel. The car was freezing cold by the time she went inside.

  She gave Ernest a brief hello and skirted the issue of dinner by telling Libby she’d eaten a big lunch with the workmen.

  “And this might sound antisocial,” she continued, “but I really want to lie down. Even though it’s only six o’clock.”

  “You head on up to bed, then,” Libby said. “You look exhausted. Oh, by the way, we’re having visitors again. Alex’s sister Frankie has asked everyone to come up here. Well, everyone being Joy and Gray, that is.”

  Cass frowned. “I hope she’s not worried about the progress we’re making at White Caps. I talk to her at least once a week to update her.”

  “I’m sure she’s perfectly happy. Now get on up to bed, will you? You make me tired just looking at you. And if you wake up hungry at midnight, there’s plenty in the fridge to snack on.”

  Upstairs, Cass took a quick shower and climbed between the sheets.

  So why aren’t you with your Miracle?

  It can’t work between us.

  She’s not in your life?

  Not the way I wish she was. Not the way…I want her. It would be inappropriate.

  Of course it would. Alex couldn’t have a personal relationship with one of his crew, his navigator. And if the woman was indeed one of the strongest assets on his boat, he wasn’t going to let her talents go to someone else. Clearly, he’d rather forgo the relationship for the winning. Which made him the professional, the champion, he was.

  Madeline Maguire was his Miracle.

  God, this hurts, Cass thought, massaging her chest. This really hurts.

  * * *

  Later that night Alex lay back against his pillow and glared at the ceiling. “I don’t want you on my floor.”

  “Your leg trumps chivalry, Captain.”

  He rolled over onto his side and looked at Mad’s face. She was staring up at him, waiting for him to let her say the things she’d come to say. Over dinner in town and through several great racks of pool, they’d talked about the old times, the good times, and she’d caught him up on the crew’s latest and greatest.

  But that was all preamble. And they both knew it.

  “So let’s get it over with,” he said.

  “We want you back.”

  Alex almost smiled. The stories they’d shared over the Silver Diner’s blue-plate special and then across all that green felt had gotten him thinking. Missing. Wishing.

  The words just came out. “I want to come back.”

  “Thank God,” Mad breathed.

  “But I don’t know when.” He wasn’t about to tell her that the state of his mind made his leg look like a real winner, so he focused on the physical stuff. “I’ve got a lot of rehab I need to do before I’m up and rolling. You’ll see tomorrow, if you work out with us.”

  “Us?”

  “Yeah. Me and Spike. You’ll like him.”

  “I already like his name.”

  Alex chuckled. They were silent awhile, and then Mad murmured, “Captain?”

  “Huh?”

  “There’s one more thing.”

  “Let it fly, Mad.”

  “The boys and me…we liked Reese. We were grateful for what he did for us. You know, all that money and support and he was a nice guy, too. His death, it shook us up. But we want you to know, if it had been you who hadn’t come back, we, uh, we would have been ruined. We would have bailed on the sport. We wouldn’t have been able to go on without you.”

  “Thanks, but you’d have gotten over it. Trust me.” He thought of the deaths of his father and mother. He’d gone on. Gone on and left his sisters to clean up the mess, sure, but he’d moved ahead. God, he hated himself sometimes. He really did. “Now, enough of the sentimental stuff, okay?”

  She laughed softly. “Aye, Captain.”

  They were silent for a time.

  “Hey, Mad? I want you to be aware of something.”

  “What?”

  “Reese’s wife is working on White Caps. She’s our architect and general contractor. I just wanted you to know in case you ran into her.”

  “The redhead? That was her?”

  He tried to remember if Cassandra had come to any of the races and realized she hadn’t. The only times he’d seen her were when he and Reese were going out on, or coming home from, private trips.

  “You haven’t met her, have you?” he said.

  Mad shook her head. “You know how Reese was all into keeping his lives separate. I did see her from a distance at the funeral, but she looked so different then. I didn’t recognize her today.”

  “She’s been through a lot. Be…careful with her, okay?”

  “Yeah, of course.” Mad rolled over onto her back. “Funny, though.”

  “What?”

  “When I asked if she was a friend of yours, she said she wasn’t.”

  Alex cleared his throat. “Well, I suppose she isn’t.”

  No, they were not friends and they never would be. They were not really lovers, either.

  Cass’s voice shot through his head, her words spoken during one of the arguments they’d had.

  …after I leave this
job, I’m never going to see you again…

  Alex frowned as it dawned on him that the renovations on White Caps would be done in a month or two. Then she would go back to New York. And he would go back to the sea.

  There would be no reason for their paths to cross again. Ever.

  “You okay, Captain?” Mad said abruptly.

  “What?”

  “I heard a groan.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine, Mad. Go to sleep. Spike’s showing up first thing for some serious ironmania.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Alex turned onto his back.

  Death wasn’t the only black hole someone could fall into, he thought. Divergent lives could do a damn good erase job, too.

  A person could be perfectly healthy and above ground, and you could still lose them forever.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The next morning Alex stared out the picture window at White Caps and tried to imagine where Cassandra might be in the house.

  X-ray powers would be really handy right about now, he thought.

  Behind him, in the bathroom, Mad Dog was getting dressed to exercise and she was humming. Off-key. A truly horrible rendition of the theme from Stars Wars.

  There was a pounding on the shop’s door.

  “Rock and roll,” Alex said over his shoulder.

  “You ready to work?” Spike called out as he walked in.

  Alex nodded and took off his sweatshirt. “Yeah.”

  “Hey, that Viper is sweet. Whose is it?”

  The bathroom door opened and Mad stepped out in a black sports bra and a pair of black panties.

  “It’s mine. Hi, I’m Madeline. You can call me Mad.”

  Alex had to swallow to keep from laughing. Spike looked like someone who’d been hit in the back of the head with a mast. The expression of awe and disbelief sank even deeper into his face as Mad sauntered right up to him, stuck her hand out and smiled.

  As she stood in front of his buddy, Alex considered his navigator as a woman. Which was exactly what Spike was doing.

  Yeah, Mad did have the whole Amazon-goddess thing working for her. She was tanned and muscled, but you definitely knew she was a female. And not just because her black hair was almost down to the small of her back.

  He glanced at Spike. The guy was extending his hand slowly, like Mad was either an apparition or something that might take his arm off.

  “Your hair is great,” she said, taking his palm and giving it a good shake. “And I seriously dig the tat on your neck. How many do you have?”

  Spike blinked. “A couple.”

  “Can I see them?”

  Those yellow eyes actually popped. “Ah, not all of them, no.”

  “How about only the decent ones? I’ve never had the courage to get inked, but I love to look at them.”

  There was a pause.

  “You mean now?” Spike asked.

  Mad nodded and focused on his chest. Like she was looking forward to getting a load of it.

  Spike glanced across the room at Alex and flared his eyelids a little, flashing the international masculine symbol for: Save my ass, buddy. Right now.

  Alex nodded gravely and said, “Yeah, let’s see ’em, Spike. Even the naughty ones.”

  Those yellow eyes spit such fire that Alex figured he had to relent. Either that or he was never getting a ride anywhere ever again.

  “Okay, Mad, we better lay off.”

  Mad shrugged and headed for the weights. “Pity. So who’s first with the iron?”

  “Aren’t you going to get dressed?” Spike muttered, pointedly looking anywhere else but her backside.

  Mad cocked an eyebrow and looked down at herself. “I am dressed. I mean, I didn’t bring my workout gear and this is just like a bikini.”

  Alex frowned, finding it hard to imagine she was missing the effect she had on Spike. The guy was actually sheepish, he was so blown away by her.

  Who knew the guy even had sheepish in him?

  Alex thought about her on those boats with all his men. She treated them the same way. Up front, on the level, with never a hint of anything sexual. Of course, that was a professional environment.

  Had she ever been with anyone? Not that he knew of. And sailing was a very closed club with a gossip mill like a sorority house.

  “Mad, toss on some shorts, will you? Before you burn Spike’s retinas.”

  “Shorts? Who brings shorts to the Adirondacks in January? I almost took a dogsled to get here. And before you suggest it, I’m not lifting in my jeans.”

  Alex went over to his duffel bags and tossed her a pair of his boxers. “Try these.”

  Mad caught them, tugged the things on her smooth legs and the three of them hit the weights. They’d been at it for about twenty minutes when there was a knock on the shop’s door.

  “It’s open,” Alex called out while he spotted Mad on some bench presses.

  Cassandra walked in and froze, as if she’d stepped into the wrong place. Then she looked away wildly, eyes bouncing around.

  Mad released the bar and sat up.

  “Hi, Cassandra—” Alex didn’t get further than that.

  Cassandra’s words trampled over his, coming out of her mouth in a rush. “Joy’s been trying to reach you. Your phone’s bouncing to voice mail.”

  “I turned it off.”

  Man, she totally refused to meet his eyes.

  “Well, Joy would like you to come over for dinner tonight. She and Gray will be arriving in a couple of hours, and Frankie and Nate are due later this afternoon. I’m sure your…guest is welcome. And, Spike, you’re invited as well. Six o’clock.” She headed for the door. “You might want to call your sister. Anyway, that’s all. Will you excuse me?”

  “Cassandra, wait—”

  She left so quickly, he didn’t have time to finish.

  “I’ll be right back,” he muttered as he grabbed his cane. Outside, the cold air bit into the bare skin of his chest. “Cassandra!”

  Usually that tone of voice could stop a sailboat in a stiff breeze, but she just kept going.

  “Goddamn it,” he muttered, focusing on the ground so he didn’t fall on his face.

  He caught up with her just as she pulled back the plastic flap over White Caps’ kitchen doorway. She halted only because he grabbed her hand.

  “Will you stop already! What the hell is the problem?”

  Cassandra glanced over her shoulder at him. “There is no problem. Whatsoever.”

  She looked terrible, he realized. Dark circles under her eyes. Hollows under her cheekbones that he hadn’t seen before. She was pale as salt, too.

  “Cassandra,” he said gently, “are you all right? You look sick.”

  “I’m fine. Please let me go.”

  Her listless voice lit off the back of his neck, and his nape tingled so badly he had to use his free hand to rub it.

  “Cassandra, what’s going on?”

  Flat green eyes shifted away. “Please…let…Oh, God—”

  She clapped her hand across her mouth, doubled over and gagged.

  “Cassandra!” What the hell was she doing coming to work if she was sick? “For God’s sake, let me take you back to Gray’s.”

  She shook her head sharply, her ponytail flopping over one of her shoulders.

  “Just leave me alone.” Before he could say anything more, she cut him off. “If you don’t get out of the way, I will throw up on your shoes. You are, quite literally, making me sick. Leave. Now.”

  Alex recoiled and dropped his hand from hers.

  With a hoarse cough, she stumbled over to the Porta Potti.

  * * *

  Dizzy, still nauseated, Cass stepped out into the fresh air and breathed deeply. It didn’t help. The sickly-sweet smell of the john clung to the insides of her nostrils like a coat of paint, spurring on her stomach’s rebellion.

  She went inside the house, turned on the propane heater and sat down on a board suspended between two sawhorses. She found that if
she was motionless, the queasiness faded. Which was a good thing. The crew was due to arrive in about a half hour.

  “Cass, baby?”

  She winced and glanced over as Spike came through the plastic flap. He was smiling, but his eyes were razor sharp.

  Great, she thought. Alex had sent reinforcements.

  “Guess what?” the man said.

  She took a deep breath. “What?”

  “This is your lucky day.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. You’re going to let me take you back to Gray’s.”

  “And that makes me lucky, how?”

  “Because if you come with me, Alex won’t call an ambulance. I have five minutes to walk out of this house with you. Then he’s dialing.”

  “Spike, no offense, but you’ve lied to me before.”

  “Maybe. But I’m not lying now.”

  She met his yellow eyes for a long moment.

  “Come on, honey,” he said softly. “Let me take you home.”

  Feeling like a fool, but not willing to run the risk of throwing up in front of her crew, she reached into her backpack and took out her cell phone. She dialed and when Ted answered, she asked him to ride hard on the plumbers. When she hung up, she didn’t look at Spike, but got to her feet.

  “Let’s go,” she muttered.

  * * *

  Cass slept most of the day. She couldn’t stomach anything more adventurous than some of Libby’s chicken broth for lunch, but by the time five o’clock rolled around, she was able to force herself out of bed. A shower perked her up a little and she slipped into a black sheath of heavy silk. She put on some makeup and did her hair. Threw on a pair of earrings.

  She felt like she had to gird herself for the party.

  By the time she walked into the living room, everyone else was there. Nate and Frankie were by the fire, their dark heads together. Joy was pouring some Perrier for Spike and laughing. Gray and Alex were talking.

  Where was—

  “That is a fabulous dress,” Madeline said.

  “Thank you.”

  The other woman was dressed in black slacks and a black turtleneck and she looked drop-dead gorgeous. Worse, her smile was open, engaging, as if she was hoping to talk. To be friends.

  Cass searched her mind for something to say. “So it’s very cold, don’t you think?”