by Ruby Vincent
“Nathan...”
“Don’t cry for him!”
The first kick knocked me against the hull.
“He’s dead,” he shouted. “They’re all dead. You belong to me, Arabella. Your tears are for me.”
The blows rained down in an endless torrent, and I cried.
Loud, chest-wracking sobs.
For Nathan.
I SAT ON THE BED, SILENT in the dark. Outside, Mal creaked the floorboards moving the rest of his stuff out to the boat.
Friday had come. It was time to go.
I twisted my sore neck, looking to where the restraints used to be. He had taken them down and threw them away in front of me. Malcolm knew I wasn’t going anywhere.
“Let’s go.”
Carefully, I stood, cradling my sore ribs. I didn’t think anything was broken, but it hurt like hell anyway. I shuffled out under his watchful eye.
“Don’t blame anyone but yourself, Arabella,” he hissed. “It didn’t have to be like this.”
Yes, it did.
The little blue shack was swept bare. There truly was nothing for the police to find now. Everything had worked in Mal’s favor.
But not in Bracknell. Sending me here ruined whatever hideous plan he had for me then, and I was gifted this one last summer with Preston, Carter, and Nathan.
Tears welled in my eyes.
I was dangerous for them. I should have stayed away, and still, I wouldn’t trade a millisecond of our time together. I’d hold them in my heart during these years with Malcolm. I’d get by knowing that, whatever happened, those years would be short.
“Hurry up. I want out of this place.” He grabbed hold of my forearm, pulling me out the door and down the dock. I bit my split lip to hold in a groan as I quickened my pace to keep up. Mal stomped on my knee in the midst of my beating. The deep ache and worsening limp did not bode well.
“He picks us up at noon on the dot,” Mal said as he climbed the ladder. “If we’re late, our chance to get home won’t come again for weeks.” He turned around, reaching to lift me up. “You’ll like our new home in Lismore. It’s where my mother is from.”
Lismore, Ireland.
I should have known. Mal would want to be somewhere he could still control the situation. And send people after me if I tried to run.
“We have new identities waiting for us on that boat, a chroí. A new life.”
I said nothing. Just raised my hands for him to lift me.
Malcolm secured me under the shoulders.
“Belle?!”
Our heads jerked up.
No, don’t do this to me. Don’t taunt me after everything I’ve been through! I haven’t earned this torture!
“Belle!” Nathan’s voice said. “We’re here!”
I twisted, and there he was. Perfect. Beautiful. Unharmed.
Unreal.
This apparition was my mind conjuring one last jab. A death rattle as it gave up all hope.
“How?!” Mal shouted. “You’re dead!”
What? Mal can see him too?
“Baby, run!” Nathan raced toward the dock, curly locks flying, and arms held out. “Run to me!”
He no sooner said it than Carter and Preston were there, racing behind him.
An emotion took over me, bursting through the thick, clinging film of sorrow that seeped into my soul.
I reared back and slammed my forehead into Mal’s hurt nose.
“Arggh!” He dropped me and I ran. Ran as fast as my hurt knee could carry me.
A thump shook the dock. Mal fell on me, snatched me off my feet, and bounded up the ladder.
“Let me go,” I shrieked.
He sprinted down the steps and threw me in the cabin, bouncing me off the couch. “Stay here!”
Mal made to slam the door. Shooting forward, I stuck my hand in the jamb, muffling my cry as it banged on my hand.
Malcolm didn’t notice. He was already on the deck, cursing and racing around.
I crawled up as he unmoored the boat. Keeping low, Mal didn’t notice me on his way up the cockpit. When he was out of sight, I burst from below, running to the ladder.
My boys were there. Feet from me. One jump and I was free.
“Nathan. Preston. Carter.”
“Jump, Belle,” Nathan said. He reached the boat first. “We’ve got you.”
I swung my good leg over.
“Don’t fucking move.” A click sounded behind me. “Arabella, get back on the boat.”
Dropping my leg, I moved back slowly.” Mal loomed over us—his gun leveled on the boys.
He started the engine, puttering the boat down the dock. Despite the threat, the guys kept pace, hard and furious meeting his gaze.
“Provoke me,” Mal said. “Please. Nothing would make me happier—”
“Nathan, now!” Preston shouted.
Nathan whipped something from his back pocket. I caught a glimpse of a snubbed, red piece of plastic, and then it exploded.
A streak of fire flew over my head and Mal’s cry pierced the air. He fell on the steering wheel and the boat lurched portside, swinging away from the dock.
“Carter!”
The three jumped and tumbled on deck, landing by my side.
“Belle.” Scrambling up, Carter cradled my face. His heart cracked before my eyes. “What did he do to you?”
“Doesn’t matter now.” The dock was growing smaller in the distance. “We have to get off this boat.”
“We’ll swim,” said Preston. “We’ve got you, baby. We’re going home.”
“Quick,” Nathan ordered.
Nathan and Preston ran to the side, ready to jump in and catch me. Carter lifted and carried me over.
“Nathan, go in first,” he said. “Then us.”
Nathan dove in without a thought, and popped above the surface, beckoning to us as the boat tried to take us away. “Hurry.”
“Ok—”
Bang!
I slipped out of Carter’s hold, slamming on the deck. My love staggered, eyes wide as confusion flooded him, and time slowed. I moved through syrup, reaching for him, and he fell—tipping over the side with a splash dwarfed by my scream.
“Carter!”
Bang!
Preston lurched back as the bullet burrowed in the hull, inches from where he was standing.
A hand curled around the cockpit railing, pulling up a smoldering figure.
I gasped, clapping a hand over my mouth.
The left side of Mal’s face was burning—the flesh bubbling in its ravage, and reflecting the true beast I’d always known. Bits of his clothes were still on fire. He ripped his shirt off and knocked himself off balance, tumbling onto the deck.
Mal recovered fast, yanking the gun up and firing at Preston with a howl that curdled my soul.
“Stop!” I flung myself at him, tackling his arm as Preston cried out.
Preston collapsed next to the cabin steps, clutching his leg. Spittle flew from his mouth as pain contorted his features.
Shoving me off, Mal stood up, gaze burning as he leveled the final shot. “She’s mine. She will always be mine.”
He pulled back the trigger.
“No!” I jumped and smashed my head on his elbow. The shot went wide—gun flying from his hand. Unthinkingly, I dove as he did, scrabbling for the weapon.
He closed over my hand, and mine did the handle. I twisted out of his grip onto my back.
Mal stilled, looking down the barrel.
“Arabella.”
I scrambled away until my back hit the rail. I got to my feet, gun trained on him the whole time.
“What are you doing, Arabella? Put it down.”
“Do it, Belle,” Nathan shouted.
Half ruined beyond recognition, he was still so beautiful. I shook as he morphed. Eyes softening—beseeching. Hatred washing away. “I love you,” he said. “All I’ve done is for us to be together. You know that.”
He took a step forward. “You don’t want t
o do this. This isn’t you.” Mal placed his hand over his chest. “I’m the monster, remember. You’re good. You are all the good that is left in this world.”
“D-don’t listen,” Preston rasped, breaking into my fog. “Do it, Belle. Kill him.”
“It’ll be different from now on,” Mal said. He took another step. “I’ll get help, okay? I’ll never hit you again. Just let me, a chroí. Let me love you. That’s all I ever wanted to do.”
His arm slowly came up.
“She’s not coming, Belle.” Through my tears, my pain, my endless years of misery, Nathan found me. “Save yourself.
“Leave the garden.”
Mal grabbed the gun.
Bang!
We stared at each other—my mouth open in a soundless scream. His in surprise.
“Ara... bella?”
I fired again.
And again.
And again.
I didn’t stop even as the gun clicked empty in my hands.
Mal staggered back, looking down at the holes in his chest like he couldn’t understand. Raising his head, he met my eyes and—
“Belle?”
Mal fell over the side, disappearing into the depths. And my dad—the father a part of me loved even now—who held me on his lap and told me of the stars—he sank with him. Ending our tale once and for all.
I fell to my knees, crying so hard I feared I’d never stop.
“It’s okay, Belle.” Strong arms wrapped around me. “It’s over, baby. It’s finally over.”
Chapter Fourteen
Kisses peppered my face, pulling me gently from sleep.
“Wake up, my darling. Your dinner is here.”
I blinked, coming to as the nurse wheeled in my tray. After days eating hospital food, it was hard to get excited at the sight of that tray, but the dame was determined to have me well and on my feet. She wasn’t above sticking the nutrients in an IV and pumping it directly in.
“I’m awake.”
Dad raised my bed for me to sit up. “Is that too much? Do you feel okay?” He’d been fussing worse than Mom.
I couldn’t blame them.
Our parents realized where the boys must have run off to almost instantly. They arrived as Nathan pulled Carter out of the water and nearly fainted as our boat pulled in. Nathan shot and my lip split, eyes puffy, ribs bruised, and limping on one knee.
“I’m fine, Daddy.” I opened my pudding and slid it to him. “Have some. Chocolate is your favorite.”
“No. You need to eat and gather your strength.”
“What I really need”—I gave them both a look—“is for you to tell me what happened.”
Mom turned away, busying herself with uncovering my salad and pouring the dressing. “I don’t want you to worry about that right now, Belle. Focus on recovering.”
“I’m recovered. The doctors say I can get out of here in a few days. Carter and Preston too. The bullet grazed his shoulder, and Preston will be laid up for a while, but he’ll be fine in a few weeks. Everyone will be fine—including me if I know the truth. Please.”
“Belle.” Dad took hold of me, pressing a soft, loving, fatherly kiss to my hand.
“What happened with the detectives?” I asked. “Did they get away?”
“They... tried,” Mom began. “Thankfully, the real authorities arrested Ortiz and Hanson before they could get away.”
“Did they try to help in the end? They sent that fake photo of Nathan dead.”
She shook their head. “It wasn’t them who did the right thing. It was a man named Dean. One of Desai’s security guards. Mr. Fuller wasn’t the only one Byrne got to. He threatened the man’s family and employed him to stay behind and kill the boys if it came to it.
“When it did come down to it, he texted Preston instead and spilled the truth. He didn’t want the reward. He just wanted to do the right thing. After the police stormed the shack and didn’t find you, Malcolm told him to carry out the deed in punishment for giving him away. That’s when we realized we couldn’t trust someone in the police,” she said.
Her eyes welled up, and I took her hand too.
“The b-boys faked the photo to let him think his plan was still running smoothly, but we were frantic—not knowing who we could trust. Your father went to buy a gun and find you himself.
“In the confusion, the boys stole Mr. Hendrix’s keys and slipped away. Nathan had been adamant Fuller’s note was connected to you. Your message mentioned a boat and that you were still on the island. Maybe Mal was waiting for Friday too. We had to find you before then, and when they disappeared, we knew where they went.”
Sighing, I let my head fall back. “I guess I know the rest.”
“We’re so sorry, Belle. We should’ve called the authorities ourselves. We should have stormed that dock for you.”
“You did, Mom,” I whispered. “You came for me. I knew you would.”
“Oh, Belle.” My father’s cheeks and beard were soaked. “How can you do this? Forgive us so easily. This wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t force you to come here.”
“That’s not true, Daddy.” I would’ve reached for a tissue to wipe his face if both of my hands weren’t held tight. “Malcolm spent his time in Bracknell working up the same plan. He told me I got on the plane only a week before he was going to grab me. Being here bought me more time and an amazing summer with three guys who’d do anything for me. I’ve officially stopped picturing the nursing home I was going to put you in.”
My dad made a noise close to a laugh. Tobias Adler had the milage in his wrinkles and salt-and-pepper beard—that was now mostly salt—that came with becoming a father in his forties and raising a wily girl like me. Even in his youth, his voice wasn’t music. He didn’t stop hearts with his smile, or command life and death with a flexing of his power.
But that was okay. For a father, I’d take a real, honest man over a siren any day.
“You may still decide to put me in that nursing home,” he said softly.
“What do you mean?”
Dad looked to Mom. She nodded.
“It’s time, dear.”
“Time for what?” I asked.
“For you to know the real reason we sent you to the cove.”
“The real reason?” I glanced from Mom to my father—who had gone silent. “Dad?”
He finally met my gaze. “The business is failing, Belle. Sea Queen cruise lines is on the edge of bankruptcy.”
“I...” I trailed off, speech deserting me. Bankruptcy?
“It’s bad, darling,” Mom said. “While you’ve been gone, we’ve slowly sold off the cars, paintings, homes, antiques. Everything. It’ll be enough to cover our debts, your college, and a modest amount for us to live on, but all we have left is the home in England.”
The homes. The cars. My homes and cars. My entire life for the last fourteen years. Gone.
“So, you wanted me to get married—”
“—for the reason we gave you, Belle,” Dad finished. “So you’d always be taken care of. Our Arabella entrusted you to us, and I f-failed you.” My lips trembled seeing him crumble. “I’ve failed all of you. But it’s you, my girl, who had so much more to lose if we couldn’t afford to protect and keep you from him. We thought the cove was our solution.”
“We were wrong,” Mom said clearly. “And we knew it before all of this happened. Our job wasn’t only to protect you, but to see you happy. This is your life, Belle, and you deserve to run into your soulmate outside an ice cream parlor. Spend your years building a life, a friendship, and a family.” She stroked my cheek, wiping away the wetness. “Get married or don’t get married. Go to Parsons or London. The choice is yours. Please, forgive us for trying to take it away from you.”
“You don’t have to apologize, Mom.” I squeezed their hands tight. “Everything you do is because you love me.”
THE TELEVISION PLAYED on low, showing an episode of Psych I’d seen a million times before, but I let it pla
y anyway. I could use a laugh. Didn’t matter where it came from.
This was my last night in the hospital. The doctors swore my parents could take me home the next day, and they left to prepare to do just that.
A creak echoed in the room. “Belle? You up?”
I raised my head. “Carter? What’s wrong?” I asked as he padded to me, holding his hospital gown closed. “Is everything okay?”
“It will be.” Carter leaned over me and brushed his lips down my forehead, nose, and finally, on my mouth. I melted into the kiss.
“You’re right,” I whispered. “Everything is okay now.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“After the summer,” he said. “Can we have it now?”
A smile stretched across my lips. “You can have winter, spring, fall, and all the summers to come, Carter Knight. I love you.”
“I love you too, barnacle.”
I laughed. “That will not be our pet name.”
“Can I ask you something else? How are you feeling?”
“A bit sore, but I’ll be okay. The doctor say a few weeks and I’ll be on my feet.”
He nodded as he stepped back. The mattress shook as he pressed on it. “And the bed... is it sturdy?”
My mouth fell open. “Oh my gosh. You’re trying to get some in a hospital?” I cried.
He held up a condom. “Guilty as charged.”
“Carter!”
His grin could only be described as wolfish. “This is the part where I’m supposed to feel ashamed, but really, I feel like the stubborn idiot everyone calls me. We had so many perfect nights on the beach, and I turned you down because I didn’t want them to end.”
He rubbed his bandaged shoulder. “Well, they almost did. A few inches lower and I would have died without ever being with you. I’m not making that mistake again. I’m taking this stupid gown off, climbing in that bed, and having my way with you. Do you have objections?”
I giggled, thinking of the night I said much the same. “I do not have objections.”
“Good.” The gown was off in a flash and the gorgeous, naked king of the sea stood in all his glory, unmarred by injuries. On the contrary, he looked like a warrior fresh from battle.