His sister lifted an eyebrow, pulled a pin from her hair and turned her attention to the lock. In fifteen seconds flat, she was clicking it open.
“Brains not bombs,” she said, stepping back.
“Funny.”
But he was already moving again. Sliding the wide doors open. Flicking on the light and scanning the fuel-scented space for an option. He found one right away in the form of a single-man, sit-on-top kayak. Norah had clearly spied it, too.
She pointed. “If you grab a pair of those goggles from the shelf, they’ll have no idea it’s you until you’re right on top of them. If you can call chasing down a luxury boat with a kayak being ‘right on top of them,’ that is.”
Noah nodded, hurrying yet again. He limped to the shelf in question and snagged a pair of goggles at random. He grabbed a life jacket, too, and slipped it on and fastened the zipper and clasps. Next, he turned to the kayak itself. It wasn’t his first time using one, and he knew it was light enough for him to carry on his own, if a little awkwardly. He didn’t protest, though, as he grabbed one end, and Norah grabbed the other. It was more about solidarity than assistance. Together, in unspoken agreement, they lifted it from its stand and carried the watercraft out of the building, away from the exposed dock, then down a side path. In under two minutes, they were beachside, and the kayak was bobbing halfway in, halfway out of the water.
“I’m going to try to find a way over to the island too,” Norah said, giving him a quick squeeze.
Noah didn’t bother to argue or even shake his head. There was no point. She’d do whatever she could to help him. He knew, because he’d do the same for her.
“Be safe,” he said instead.
“Ditto,” she replied.
He stole another little hug, then turned his attention to the task at hand. In moments, he was on the water, arms pumping in a steady rhythm. At first, he envisioned himself actually overtaking the luxury boat, like his sister had half-jokingly suggested. He quickly realized it wasn’t just an overzealous idea; it was utterly unfeasible. His manpower couldn’t come close to the thrust of the boat’s engine. By the time Noah was halfway out on the lake, he could see that Trey and his crew were already nearing the island. He pushed on anyway, forming a new plan.
Cutting to the east, Noah guided the kayak out wide and well out of attention-grabbing distance. Soon, his arms ached with the effort, but he ignored the burn and pushed on. Still paddling hard and straight—as though he were headed anywhere but to the island—he pushed on for another minute or two. At last, when he’d brought himself to an angle that took Trey’s boat out of view, he cut west again. His sharp turn brought the kayak to a rocky halt, and he let himself take a moment to recover from the energy-sucking ride.
Through the picturesque tree line, he could see the outline of the chapel. It was white and hung with twinkling lights that still shone brightly, even in the sun. It was a beautiful location. Noah fully understood the appeal of it. Right then, though, it made him taste bile.
Drawing a breath, he plunged the paddle into the water again. The bow parted the smooth surface of the lake, and the hull glided along with power and precision. Another couple of minutes of hard work brought him to the pebbled shore, and he guided the kayak along the edge to a small cove. There, he disembarked, stowed the boat and immediately began his hike in toward the chapel.
The going wasn’t easy, and the farther in he got, the more his foot burned. Before long, the pain extended up to his calf. His pants were damp and chafed uncomfortably. Sweat—more from the fight against the pain than from exertion—slid down his forehead and stung his eyes. At one point, he tripped over an unseen rock and smacked his injured foot against a partially buried tree stump, and it took everything he had to keep from hollering every curse word he knew. By the time he’d pushed through the forested area to the edge of the cleared property, Noah was questioning his sanity. Why hadn’t he taken a chance that someone at the local RCMP detachment would be untouched by Trey’s taint? Why hadn’t he let his sister call one of her out-of-town contacts? What had made him assume that coming alone was the best, most efficient method of rescuing Elle and Katie? The questions tumbled through his head on repeat. But when he finally reached a spot close enough to the chapel to stop to assess his surroundings, all of the questions—all of everything—slipped away.
Elle sat alone on a bench in the clearing just outside of the chapel. Her head was down, her eyes on the hands she had laced together in her lap. The wedding dress was a mess of lace and puffy fabric and Noah was one hundred percent sure she would never have chosen something so flamboyant on her own. But in spite of that, and despite her heartbreaking pose, too, her beauty was undeniable.
Noah wanted to go to her. To sweep her into his arms and put the dress to real use. He had a desperate need to tell her that he thought they should join their lives together right there, right then. That they could work backward. A quick marriage to a languorous courtship. It made utter sense in his head. The hours they’d spent apart had shown him that what he wanted most was more hours together.
As if she could feel the way Noah’s thoughts were projecting, Elle lifted her eyes and looked right at the spot where he stood hidden. A voice in his head screamed at him to not move. It pointed out that it made no sense that she was alone, and it warned that exposing himself before he meant to could equal death for both of them. He took the tiniest step backward. He might’ve gone farther, too. Except he couldn’t. A cold metal barrel pressed to his head and a voice he’d already committed to memory stopped him.
“Don’t move unless I say to,” ordered Trey Charger. “If you do anything other than what I told my guys would happen, then my man over near the chapel is authorized to shoot without warning.”
On cue, a red dot appeared on Noah’s hand, then slowly slid up his arm and came to rest on his chest. And he did as he was told.
* * *
It took Elle a long, slow-blink moment to clue in that she wasn’t seeing a mirage. Noah really was stepping into the spot where Trey had instructed her to wait.
Noah.
Elation soared through her. His handsome face filled her heart with hope and warmth. Elle pushed to her feet, fully prepared to throw herself into his arms. But then—before she could really process the fact that only Katie had ever infused her with that kind of joy—all the good feelings rushed out. Because Noah wasn’t alone. Trey stood behind him. And judging from the two men’s stances, Trey had a weapon pressed to Noah’s back. A second later, they were close enough that she could see that her assumption was correct. And she realized something else—she’d been used as bait. Trey had told her she was awaiting her “man.” Now she knew he’d used the word deliberately. Not as a jibe, but as a means of showing his cleverness. His wide smile right at her proved it.
“Isn’t it nice that Mr. Loblaw decided to join us? If he’d given us a little more notice, we might even have been able to provide him with some proper attire,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “But since he paddled all the way in from the mainland, the least we can do is let him enjoy the festivities. Maybe even walk you down the aisle?”
Noah cut in, his voice a growl. “You really are a special kind of despicable, aren’t you?”
Elle’s eyes burned, but she refused to cry, and instead lifted her chin and replied, “It’s fine, Noah. God knows he didn’t earn the privilege of giving me away.”
The narrowing of his eyes was the only sign of Trey’s irritation. Other than that, he maintained his unnatural politeness. He stepped back a little from Noah and gestured toward the bench that Elle had just abandoned.
“Have a seat,” he suggested. “If you’re not going to participate, you might as well have a good view.”
Elle could see the pinch around Noah’s eyes. The even line of his mouth. And for the first time, she really noticed his appearance. He looked unimpressed, yes. But
also injured. His face was covered in little scrapes, his shirt torn. The spot in his neck where one of Trey’s lackeys had jabbed him with the needle was bright red, the hole a crimson speck in the middle. He looked like he was soaking wet, too.
Before she could stop herself, Elle swung to Trey. “You gave me your word that you wouldn’t hurt him.”
He shook his head. “Uh-uh. I gave you my word that I wouldn’t kill him. And that promise was contingent upon him staying away. Apparently, even telling him you’re a murderer wasn’t enough.”
“Because I’m not a murderer.”
“It doesn’t matter, anyway, does it? He’s just lucky I haven’t killed him already. But now that you’ve brought it to my attention, all this waiting does is create friction, so…”
As he trailed off, he reached for the gun at his side. But before he could get a grip on the handle and drag it from its holster, another voice drew everyone’s attention.
“I always thought she could love me.”
The statement came from the shadows near the chapel, and they were followed by the appearance of Detective Stanley. He stepped into view, and Elle couldn’t quite stifle a gasp. The detective’s usual, intense look had turned wild-eyed. That hint of crazy that Elle had always sworn was there had boiled over. His hair was disheveled, his tie askew. And though he still wore the suit Trey had provided, the jacket hung open, revealing something even more terrifying than Trey and his men—a mishmash of wires and canisters that could only be a bomb. And if there were any doubt about it, it was swept away by the cord leading from the device straight up to the detective’s hand.
For a moment, silence hung heavily in the air. The stillness was as subtle as a hammer hitting an anvil, and just as jarring. Finally, Trey spoke up.
“What the hell are you doing, Jimmy?” he demanded, the worry in his voice only just sneaking out from behind his authoritarian tone.
The other man shook his head and repeated his first statement. “I always thought she could love me.”
“She can,” Trey replied. “That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? So you can marry Mirabella?”
“Not Mirabella,” the detective said.
“He means Tawney,” Noah interjected, adjusting the angle of his body so that he all but covered Elle. “Don’t you, Detective?”
Detective Stanley swung his glassy eyes toward Noah, nodding. “I can’t live like this anymore. Trying to pretend Tawney’s daughter could fill her shoes.”
Elle’s heart skipped about three terrified beats as his grip on the detonator visibly tightened, and her mind shifted to Katie. Where was she now? Trey had left her with the detective and his men. And if the men hadn’t stopped Stanley from coming out…
Dear God…please let her be alive.
The detective flipped his attention back to Trey. “Tell them.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” the corrupt businessman said.
Detective Stanley lifted the detonator higher. “We can’t live like this anymore, Trey. You’ve been ruining lives for too long. Framing Mirabella for that nanny’s murder. Making me cover your tracks. All of it. But I want someone to know why it has to be this way.”
Trey refused to budge. “You’re unstable, Jimmy. You were always a little off, but this…”
The other man’s face reddened with fury, and his next words were a scream. “Tell them!”
Elle jumped back, startled by the vehemence. Her slight stumble drew both Detective Stanley’s attention and his ire.
“You aren’t her,” he spat. “In the dark, maybe you’d pass. But it’s like putting cheap wine in a nice glass. No matter what, the taste will always be sour.” He spun back to Trey. “Tell them now, or I’ll lift my finger, and we’ll all blow to hell.”
Trey’s jaw ticked. “I don’t know—”
Detective Stanley swung the detonator hard, and his snarl was more vicious than a wolf’s howl, and he began a wild pace of the cleared area. “We killed him. That day on the mountain. We killed him, and we buried him, and we swore not to tell anyone. Trey made us promise.” He stopped dead, fixing the other man with another stare. “Tell them.”
At last, Trey seemed to relent, at least a bit. “You’re remembering it wrong, my friend. Tawney and I helped you with the body, yes. But you killed him. We only ever wanted to help.”
Detective Stanley blinked like he was trying to process the claim, shook his head, then scratched it, and rambled on, almost under his breath. “No. No, that’s not how it happened. I’ve been dreaming about it every night for twenty-six years. I remember every detail. Every minute. Every damn second. I told Tawney I loved her. She looked at me like she pitied me. She told me she was going to marry you. My best friend.”
“That’s right,” Trey agreed. “All of it. And then you attacked me. And the hiker turned up and tried to pull you off me, and—”
“You killed him!”
“No.”
“Yes. Yes, you did. Tawney was screaming for you to stop. Begging you. But you were so angry, and…” The detective trailed off and gave his head another shake, his words coming more surely. “You told me it was my fault, because you were trying to hit me.” Still gripping the detonator in his left palm, he freed his weapon using his right hand. He aimed it at Trey’s head. “Last chance,” he said, his voice suddenly quieter than it was crazy. “Tell. Them. Now.”
For a second, Trey’s eyes closed. Then they opened, and slipped to Elle, then Noah, then came to rest on Detective Stanley. And even if he hadn’t spoken, the truth was obvious in that brief glance. Insane or not, every word that the detective had said was real.
“Yes,” Trey said. “You’re right. I gave him the final hit. I stopped you from calling the police. I refused to have anything to do with Tawney after she told me she was pregnant.”
“And then what?” Detective Stanley prodded.
“When she died and the lawyers brought the sniveling kid to my door, I thought I saw a way out. She looked so much like Tawney. And that was all you ever wanted, so…” Trey shrugged. “Fair substitute.”
“I was never looking for a substitute. That’s never what I wanted. I loved her, Trey.”
“You’ve been half-crazy since that weekend in the mountains, Jimmy. You don’t know what you want. Look at you now. Are you really going to blow yourself and all of us up just for the sake of being right? If you wanted to die, you should’ve just said so years ago. You have to know that the only reason I never killed you or Mirabella was because you stole that map of where we hid the hiker’s body from me and promised it would go public if you died.”
A triumphant smile broke on the detective’s face. “That, my friend, was the best lie I ever told you. I didn’t keep that map. I burned it the very next day.”
For the first time in all the years that she’d found out that Trey Charger was her biological father, his facade truly broke apart. He was furious. Embarrassed. Humiliated. Each emotion played across his face with absolute clarity. He lunged forward. But as he did, Detective Stanley lifted his thumb from the detonator. Simultaneously, Elle felt the air leave her lungs and the weight of Noah’s body hit her as he knocked her to the ground, shielding her from the oncoming blast.
But it never came.
Instead of an explosion, it was a simple shot that rang out. And when Elle lifted her head out from under Noah’s arm, she saw why. The “bomb” remained intact. It was a fake. A decoy. But Trey Charger lay on the ground, eyes open and sightless, blood seeping from a bullet hole in the center of his forehead.
“Couldn’t stop me from calling the police this time, could he?” said Detective Stanley, and he collapsed to the ground and put his hands on his head.
EPILOGUE
Six months later…
Elle stared out at the bright water, basking in the sunshine as she watched Katie bounce along on her infl
atable unicorn. Her daughter—officially, now that all of the proper paperwork had at last been processed—was always like this. Laughing and smiling. Like the first six years of her life hadn’t been spent in hiding. Like the man who was her biological father had never kidnapped her. It was everything Elle had ever wanted. And she had no complaints. Especially not since they were spending Katie’s seventh birthday on a Hawaiian beach. There was only one small piece missing. And a glance down at her phone told her that he’d be finished talking to his twin sister any second, then joining her on the colorful blanket to soak up some more sun together.
As if on cue, a pair of warm lips landed on her shoulder, and a set of equally warm hands slid down her arms. And Elle automatically smiled in response. She didn’t flinch. She didn’t have a moment of panic where she worried that it might not be Noah as he slid in behind her and pulled her against his chest. Belatedly—and with a great deal of surprise—she realized that she was much like Katie in that regard. She’d somehow managed to acclimatize to the idea that she was safe. Her brain and her body made the assumption that no one was out to get her, whereas before, she assumed danger lurked around every corner. It was remarkable, really, to think about it.
With Detective Stanley’s confession had come a deeper police investigation. The remains of a long-missing hiker were uncovered on the mountain, right where he’d said they would be.
Closure, she thought. This is what closure feels like.
She opened her mouth to comment on it all to Noah, but he spoke before she could. “So… I’ve been thinking…”
“Oh, you have, have you?” Elle teased.
“Mmm. Hear me out.”
“I’m listening.”
He pulled his arm away, shuffled a little behind her, then dropped something onto her lap. She looked down at the pink velvet box and opened her mouth. But Noah was faster again.
“I know I’ve asked you ninety-nine times before…” he said.
“Thirty-two,” Elle corrected.
Harlequin Romantic Suspense January 2021 Page 92