Sweet Justice

by Christy Reece

  “Nothing other than I think this thing with us has gotten out of hand.”

  Her hand dug into the material at the back of the sofa; her lips went numb from shock. “This thing …?”

  “Yeah. Thing. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the sex is good … damn good. But face it, babe, that’s really all we’ve got. Eventually that’s going to get old.” His shoulder lifted in an insolent shrug. “Then what?”

  She shook her head and reached a hand toward him. “Seth, you can’t—”

  As if he didn’t want her near him, he backed away, out of her reach.

  Honor, who was never at a loss for words, stared mutely at the man she’d thought she would spend the rest of her life with. Everything she’d thought they had, everything she’d thought Seth was, crumbled.

  She told herself to get angry, to lash out at him. The fury would come later. For right now, an overwhelming hurt flooded through her. “I see,” she managed huskily.

  For an instant, a spark of warmth flashed in his eyes. Before she could question that look, his face went impassive, even harder than before. No, she must have imagined the emotion. Now his eyes were cool, aloof, almost mocking. The mouth that had given her such pleasure the night before twisted in a slight smile. “Sorry, babe.”

  Her vision blurred as hot tears threatened to spill. No! Honor Stone did not lose control in front of others. It was just not done … she had to get him out of here. Now! “Get out.”

  His gaze swept over her body … Honor felt the insult to her soul. “Sure you don’t want one more round? Just for the hell of it?”

  “I said, Get out.”

  He took another swallow of coffee, then set the cup on the table and winked. “My loss.”

  Turning her back to him, she heard the door shut. Her gazed dropped to the coffee cup he’d drunk from. Lifting it, she put her mouth in the exact place his lips had been. All warmth had receded … only the cold, hard surface remained. Eyes glazed with the tears she could no longer control, she hurled the cup across the room. Her dreams as shattered as the broken cup, Honor turned her back to the mess and walked away.

  three

  Present day

  San Saria Island, Florida Keys

  Clemmons is dead.

  Seth stared down at the crumpled note. Why he’d held on to it, he had no idea. The fact that Hector Clemmons was dead had made no real difference in his life. Though the man had received the death penalty, he’d survived barely five months of incarceration. A knife to the gut wasn’t exactly the easy way out, but it had been much less than what the bastard had deserved.

  Still, it hadn’t changed Seth’s life. Or what his future held. He’d accepted long ago that taking down Clemmons would destroy much of him. Had actually thought he’d be found out before he could accomplish his goal and that he’d end up in the river with cement blocks tied to his legs. Clemmons had done that with a few who’d double-crossed him. Seth had been determined to bring him down but had eventually accepted that he wouldn’t live through it. Sometimes he wondered if he had.

  Folding the note, he slid it into his wallet once more. At some point he’d get rid of it, but not today.

  The calendar across the room pulled him from the edge of the bed, where he’d been sitting for what seemed like hours. Focused on today’s date, he moved slowly toward it. He hadn’t marked the day … didn’t see the point. It wasn’t like he would forget that today was both her birthday and the anniversary of when they’d met. Without conscious intent, his fingers touched the small white square, but in his mind, he saw only her face. The memory of their meeting was just as clear and vivid as if it’d been yesterday. He’d come to the party to work and be seen. Clemmons and many of his associates were attending, and it had been one more way to get in front of the man.

  He had been standing, talking to some of Clemmons’s business associates, when she’d walked into the room. Seth had quite literally lost his breath. Job forgotten, his reason for being there no longer important. Mesmerized, he’d walked away in the middle of the conversation, without any explanation.

  Honor’s instincts had been superb. She’d known instantly that someone was watching her. Those golden-green eyes had settled on him and the world had gone away. As he’d approached her, her eyes had widened. She had recognized a predator. Seth had known his expression couldn’t have been pleasant. Hell, he was walking across an overcrowded room full of strangers, dressed in a tuxedo and carrying a full-fledged, cast-iron hard-on. Hell no, he couldn’t have looked the least bit friendly. But instead of running, she’d stood rooted to the floor and watched him approach.

  He’d stopped about a foot from her and found himself speechless. The glib tongue he’d always relied on to get him what he wanted disappeared. Seth had felt like a fifth grader at his first dance wanting to ask the prettiest girl there to step out onto the floor with him. For a man who’d had more girls flocking after him than he wanted to remember, he’d felt like the dumbest and clumsiest of oafs.

  She’d held out her hand and given him a small, simple smile. That’s all it had taken for him to fall in love with her.

  Silently, he’d pulled her out onto the postage-stamp-sized dance floor and, holding her close, started to dance. Instead of telling him to back off, that he was going too fast, holding her too tight, Honor had put her head on his shoulder and glided with him around the small space.

  Later, he’d asked her why she’d gone into his arms so easily. A mysterious smile had curved her beautiful, lush mouth, but she had never answered the question. Seth had instantly forgotten what that question was. When Honor smiled … He’d trade an entire fortune, if he had one, for one of her smiles.

  A harsh breath echoed in the room. What the hell was he doing? Staring at a blank square on a calendar as if it had some sort of meaning? The past was gone and couldn’t be reshaped or relived. He’d made the decision to let her go. She was somewhere else, hopefully thriving and happy. If she ever gave any thought to him at all, expletives and vile curses were probably included.

  Contacting her and performing a major grovel occasionally entered his head, but that’d be a damn stupid thing to do. He wasn’t the same man he’d been back then. What they’d had couldn’t be resurrected. Honor had gotten on with her life. He needed to get the hell on with his, too.

  He shook the melancholy away. Fishing, swimming, and diving in the midst of paradise—how could a man ask for anything more? He ignored the small voice that whispered the names of the people he loved, the people he’d hurt.

  Disgusted with himself, he twisted around, grabbed his sunglasses, and headed out the door. The sun would be up soon. He wanted to get on his boat and be miles from land before that happened. This was his life now; he damn well needed to get used to it.

  Minneapolis, Minnesota

  I haven’t had sex in over four years.

  Of all the things Honor believed one should be thinking when a wickedly sharp knife was being held to your throat, this wasn’t one of them. Nevertheless, the thought was there and, sadly, all too true. Today was her thirtieth birthday and her life had become one long workday after another. She was in a serious rut. Though that overregimented, mundane life was about to end if she didn’t do something about the idiot holding her from behind and threatening to “spill her guts,” as he had shouted in her ear.

  “Calm down, Edwin,” Honor said calmly. “There’s no reason to get more years added to your prison sentence by killing an FBI agent.”

  “And think of the mess.”

  If Honor hadn’t been standing on her tiptoes to avoid being cut, she would have rolled her eyes. When Miller Moss—or Mossy to his friends—started trying to negotiate with a criminal, there was no telling the outcome. The man had a mind for statistics and facts, but when it came to his negotiating skills, he was all thumbs.

  “I didn’t kill that girl!” Edwin Simpson shouted.

  Honor winced. If she lived through this, she wondered if she could get disabili
ty for a hearing impairment. Her right ear rang, making her position even more painful.

  “If you didn’t kill Shelly Amos, then you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?”

  “Yeah, like anyone’s going to believe me. I made a mistake years ago and paid my dues in prison. Does anyone give me credit for that? No. I can hardly find a job and every time some dumb bitch gets killed around here, you assholes come looking for me.”

  Honor had almost been feeling a hint of sympathy, until the “dumb bitch” part. Shelly Amos had been a bright, beautiful twelve-year-old child, abducted while walking home from the library. Her bloody clothes had been found, but so far, no body. To have Edwin Simpson, a sleazy pervert down to his black socks and white sneakers, make a comment like that was Honor’s tipping point.

  With the sincere hope that he really didn’t intend to kill her, Honor relaxed, dropping her body slightly. Simpson relaxed, too, but the knife caught her when her feet went flat on the floor. Stung like hell, but she ignored it.

  Jerking her head back as hard as she could, she slammed it into Simpson’s throat. As he gurgled his pain, his hands loosened and then fell away. Honor followed with a heel kick to his shin, then whirled and slammed her forearm across his face. Blood spurted from his mouth and nose. Grabbing his right hand, she twisted until she heard a satisfying pop and Simpson bellowed like an angry hyena. The knife thudded to the floor and then Simpson fell forward. Seconds later, Honor had him handcuffed.

  As she got to her feet, she was surprised by the blurry sway of the room. What the hell?

  “Honor! Sit down!”

  Her eyes blinked up at Mossy. “Why?”

  “Because you’re bleeding. That’s why.”

  Her fingers touched her neck. Damn. The cut was worse than she’d thought. She figured she could at least make it to the chair a few steps away, but her legs had a different idea. With the suddenness of a falling rock, Honor keeled over. She heard Mossy let out a curse. As the thought flitted through her mind that she would rather he catch her than curse, she fell face-first onto the floor and the lights went out.

  * * *

  Blinking awake, she looked up into her father’s face and smiled. When he didn’t smile back, she reached up to touch him and found only air.

  “Thank God you’re awake.” Her brother’s hoarse voice startled her. What was he doing here?

  “Nick?”

  “Yeah.” He came to stand over her and she was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

  “What happened?”

  “You almost bled out.”

  “I did?” She didn’t remember anything after she hit the floor.

  “Another couple of centimeters and it would have been all over.”

  She sighed. And on her birthday, no less. Good to know that she was keeping up the tradition of sucky birthdays.

  Already knowing, she asked anyway, “Mom here?”

  “Yeah, she’s in the hallway, talking to Aunt Jenny. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

  Aunt Jenny was loud. Get her on the phone and everyone within twenty feet could hear her.

  “Is Mom pretty upset?”

  “What do you think?”

  She grimaced. Beverly Stone was military, through and through. A former army nurse, she’d left the service and become the wife of an air force pilot and, later, the mother of a marine. She’d stoically seen her husband and son deployed again and again without complaint. She was so very cool about it all. However, when faced with a specific trauma, she had a tendency to hover and worry. Honor had a feeling she was about to get a major dose of mama-henning.

  “What’d the doctor say?”

  “Two more days after you regain consciousness before you can leave the hospital. Two weeks before you’re able to work.”

  And, no doubt, her mother would want her to come stay with her. Suddenly that didn’t seem like such a bad idea. She had some decisions to make. Being fussed over while she did that would please her mom and it would give her a chance to think seriously about several issues she’d been avoiding.

  Nick’s eyes, so similar to hers, watched her keenly. “Want me to detour her?”

  “No, I think I’ll go home with her. Think through some things.”

  “About time, too.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You haven’t been the same since that bastard.”

  Anytime her brother referred to Seth, it was only as “that bastard.” If he and Seth ever met each other, Nick would probably—Hell, what was she thinking? They would never meet. Seth was never coming back to her. He’d made that more than clear. Crap, Stone, what does it take to get it through your head? The man didn’t want you. It’s been five years. Get over it already.

  Honor shook her head. “That’s not exactly what I plan to be thinking of.”

  “Still considering a job change?”

  She and her brother had no secrets. He knew all about Seth, had held her while she’d cried her eyes out and cursed him fiercely. And she’d been there for Nick when his best friend was killed in Afghanistan and when Marla, his wife, miscarried. Barely one year apart in age, she and her brother had been best friends almost since her birth.

  “I just don’t have the excitement and fire for the job like I used to.”

  “You still thinking about that rescue organization?”

  “Every time I talk to Noah McCall, he asks if I’m ready to come on board. I think I might be ready.”

  “What are you going to tell Mom?”

  With generations of military behind her, Honor was one of the few members of her family who’d bucked tradition and hadn’t joined the armed forces. It had been a personal, heartfelt decision to join the FBI. One that she had made when she was thirteen years old. Her family had humored her when she was a kid, thinking she’d change her mind. When she was twenty-two and applied to the FBI, it hadn’t been as amusing to them.

  Though her parents had never tried to discourage her from joining the FBI, she knew they’d never given up the hope that she’d follow family tradition. Even though her dad had been gone for almost five years now and Honor’s career choice was no longer under discussion, she knew her mom still harbored some hope.

  “I’ll explain what LCR does. She’s got to support that.”

  Nick shrugged, his expression doubtful. “Anyway, your friend Moss wants to speak to you. Said he had some information you’d want to know.”

  Had Shelly been found? Was she perhaps not dead after all? Please, God, let her be alive. Honor was so very tired of being too late to save them. She tried to sit up; agony zoomed through her.

  “Hold on, Sprite. Why the hell do you have to be so gung ho with everything?”

  If she hadn’t been hurting so much, that comment would have earned Nick a snort and an eye roll. They’d been trained from birth to go all out and be gung ho. She’d seen her brother overdo it on multiple occasions.

  Lying back against the pillow, she allowed Nick to press the button on the hospital bed to raise her head.

  “I’d better let the doctor know you’re awake.”

  “How long was I unconscious?”

  “On and off about ten hours.”

  Funny, she didn’t remember the conscious moments, although she vaguely remembered seeing her dad’s face. When she was at her most vulnerable, she often imagined she saw him. Wishful thinking? Absolutely, but still it gave her comfort.

  “Get the doctor in here before you tell Mom I’m awake or she’ll come along with him, giving him instructions and drilling him.”

  Nick grimaced as he headed out the door. “Too late; she’s already done that.”

  Smiling at the image of her tiny mother shooting questions and advice at her doctor, Honor leaned back against her pillow. After her release, she would go stay with her mom, but it wouldn’t take two weeks to make the decision she’d been tinkering with for several years. It was time for a change.

  After the horrible experience with
Seth, she’d moved on and taken the job offer she’d delayed accepting. And she had continued to breathe, think, and go through the motions. Yes, she’d done some good work, saved lives and put several people behind bars, but she had lost the fire she’d once had. Had she been living in limbo, thinking Seth would come back, beg for forgiveness and they’d live happily ever after? She hoped not, but she greatly feared that had been in the back of her mind.

  Well, no more. This incident had been a wake-up call. It was time to let go of the past. Time for Honor Stone to get on with the rest of her life and forget that Seth Cavanaugh ever existed.

  four

  Three months later

  His feet propped on the railing of his balcony, Seth looked out over the small resort town that was now his home. Compared to Key West, San Saria had little to offer other than the beach, a couple of decent restaurants, a nice hotel, and some ratty, storm-damaged beach houses. He’d lucked into the nicest of the ratty houses. Making all the repairs himself was taking forever. Not only was he a perfectionist, but he wasn’t quite sure what he would do once he finished. At some point, he figured, there’d be a day when he wouldn’t have a reason to get out of bed. That thought didn’t sit well with him.

  Living in paradise had its advantages, but not having a purpose, a reason to get up in the mornings was going to suck. So, to delay the inevitable as long as possible, he’d make sure every shingle fit just right, every nail was hammered completely straight, and, what the hell, if he didn’t like one color of paint, he could always repaint.

  Seth took another swig of his icy cold Pepsi. This was what he’d told himself he wanted. And for a while, it had worked. After years of being immersed in a world of filth, slime, and murderers, a thick layer of grime had coated his soul. The fresh salty air and sunshine were just the cleansers he’d needed.

  Once Clemmons went on trial, Seth disappeared. The man might’ve suspected that he was the one who’d betrayed him, but he couldn’t prove anything. By the time it was all over, they’d had more than enough to convict the bastard and Seth had never needed to testify. For all Clemmons had known, Seth had just jumped ship to avoid being arrested, too.