Sarah's Secrets

by Lisa Childs

  The cold barrel stroked over her temple. Back and forth.

  She waited to see which threat would be made good on. She waited but no shot was fired. The barrel moved from her head and footsteps sounded across the deck then were swallowed by the crash of waves and roar of engine. Fear kept her in place, her heart pounding in her throat, until she remembered the hurt young man. And her nursing training.

  After scrambling to her feet, she grabbed a handkerchief from the pocket of her slacks and pressed it against the kid’s head. Then she lifted his hand to the linen. “Hold this. Keep up the pressure.”

  The young man moaned, his eyes still closed, but his fingers pressed.

  “I’ll be right back,” she promised the kid and turned for the door to the corridor leading above. The man with the gun had to have gone. He hadn’t wanted her to see him, so he would have left. She hoped. She managed a few sliding steps across the deck then glanced up.

  Separating from the bank of vehicles between her and the door, a minivan rolled forward. Then a car and a cargo van—each starting toward her, keeping her from seeking help. From seeking Royce.

  Heart pounding with fear again, Sarah backed away, farther and farther from the door until she found herself with nowhere to turn and nowhere to run.

  “Royce!”

  ROYCE HEARD his name just as he crashed through the door and toward the moving bank of vehicles, no drivers behind the steering wheels. Someone had slipped them out of gear to let them roll. He caught a flash of red hair in the sunlight and mist off the rolling waves filtering through the gangway door. The ramp, leading to the dock for the vehicles to drive over, folded in on itself and created a half door. Chains secured it.

  Sarah stood before it, trapped, and sure to be crushed between the vehicles and the steel. “Sarah! Move!”

  With horror he watched her do just as he’d ordered. She grasped the chain above her head and hurled herself over the gangway door and into the lake.

  A wave crashed over, splashing water onto the deck and wiping away any trace of her. Then the vehicles surged forward, smashing into the steel and then each bumper slammed into the one of the vehicle before it in some odd, chain-reaction accident. But this was no accident.

  “Sarah!”

  Royce vaulted onto the trunk of the closest vehicle, metal shifting beneath his feet as he jumped from the roof of one to the hood of another. He had to save her. Or, as he’d promised, die trying.

  From the smashed hood of the last vehicle, he jumped over the gangway door. His breath left in a whoosh of air as the icy water enfolded his body and pressed against his lungs, constricting them. No red head bobbed atop the water. Had she hit her head against the ferry? Or didn’t she know how to swim?

  He fought against the paralyzing cold, gulped in a mouthful of air and dove. Water, stirred from the ferry, bubbled around him. No Sarah.

  He hadn’t jumped that long after she had. She had to be close. Moving fast, arms chopping at the water, he swam farther back. His lungs burned with the effort to hold breath as the cold constricted them.

  She was light. Wouldn’t she float to the surface instead of sink? Unless her clothes had dragged her deep. He needed one more breath. He kicked to the surface, gulped in as much air as his aching lungs would hold, then dove again. He had to find her.

  His wet jeans slowed his kicks, the denim more frozen than clammy, fighting his lethargic movements to swim against the ship’s wake. Where was she?

  A glimpse of red drew his gaze, and he dove deeper, reaching out to grasp slippery silk. The material slid through his fingers. He tightened his grip and touched cold skin. Using all of his energy to fight the icy water, he kicked toward the rolling surface, fighting to keep his hold on Sarah and bring her to safety.

  Lungs begging for air, he broke through. Blinking against the glare of the sun, he looked down at Sarah. All of the color had left her face except for the blue around her soft lips.

  Kicking with his numb legs to keep them afloat, he lifted a hand from under her shoulder to touch the icy skin of her neck. A faint pulse quivered beneath his fingers. Pressing her nose closed, he puffed a quick breath into her parted lips. “Breathe, Sarah. Breathe.” He puffed again and again until she choked and sputtered and breathed. But still her eyes stayed closed.

  “Sarah, come on. Hold on. Hold on for Jeremy. Your son needs you.” His voice cracked, stealing the rest of the words before he could utter them. Hold on for me. I need you. And not just to fulfill a dying man’s wish.

  His lungs burned, and his flesh hurt from the frigid water. Had he saved her? Or as he’d promised, would he die trying?

  He surveyed the lake around them, seeking help. A small fishing boat, its motor whining beneath the louder engine of the ferry, headed away from them. He lifted his arm, trying to catch the attention of the two dark-clothed figures hunched in it. “Help! Help us!”

  They continued on their way, pushing the fishing boat to top speed. His gut tightened. Once again he’d been close to catching whoever was behind the threat against Jeremy. And once again, he’d failed. Now he couldn’t fail Sarah.

  Holding her close, keeping her chin above the water, he kicked toward the receding ferry. Even accepting that it’d be impossible for him to catch the ship, he couldn’t give up.

  A voice from his past rang out in his head, accusing him of just that. “You never give up, Royce. You should have given up.”

  He’d given up on that woman. He wouldn’t on Sarah. He glanced down at her face, white but for a few drops of crimson blood.

  No scratch marred her beauty. Where had the blood come from? He blinked hard against liquid running into his eyes, probably water dripping from his hair. But it wasn’t water. Blood. He was bleeding.

  “Come on, Sarah. Help me help you!” His vision blurred, either from the blood or the probable concussion he’d gotten squeezing over the gangway door.

  He fought to hang onto consciousness as pain throbbed at his temple. He couldn’t pass out. If he did, they were both dead. “Hang on, Sarah…”

  Chapter Seven

  Royce sank into the familiarity of the nightmare. The heavy stench of wet wool and the metallic scent of blood choked him. The cold had seeped deeply into his bones, leaving his muscles numb and useless.

  The splitting pain radiating from above his temple throughout his head was the only new sensation. But the frustration of helplessness was not.

  He couldn’t fight. Screaming for help would bring no one. He could only wait for the blessed relief of death…like those children he’d not found in time. Samantha. Bobby.

  Cold, soft fingers stroked over the side of his face, jolting him. He groaned over his sharp movement.

  “You’re alive.”

  Would the voice of an angel utter a lie? He forced open heavy eyelids and fought through a haze of blurriness to peer at her face.

  Pale skin stretched across the rise of sharp cheekbones, a pert nose and a pointed chin. Generous lips, tinted a faint blue, curved into a smile. “Thank God, you’re conscious.”

  “You’re alive.”

  Memories drifted back to him…the approach of the dinghy from the ferry, lifting Sarah’s lifeless body into it. Then pulling himself over the side, the cold water sucking at his legs, trying to pull him down even as he fought against it. Scratchy wool had rasped against his cheek as the rescue crew had wrapped him and Sarah in blankets.

  But nothing could dispel the cold. Or the fear that help had come too late for Sarah.

  “I’m alive because of you,” she said, her voice soft and grateful.

  He shook his head, the pain reverberating inside his skull. “No, the rescue crew…”

  “You dove in after me. You saved me, Royce, at risk to your own life.” Tears misted her gray eyes. “How did you know to come looking for me?”

  “Instinct…” His gut had told him she hadn’t calmly gone off to bed, leaving her son in his care. Then the cruise director had mentioned her trying t
o bribe him to let her down to the car deck.

  She hadn’t bribed that employee, but she’d managed to coerce someone else. He’d known it immediately. After seeing the retired sheriff and Jeremy into the security of the locked stateroom, he’d gone below to find her.

  If only he hadn’t taken so much time…

  “Your instincts are legendary. Lucky for me.”

  “You shouldn’t have jumped, Sarah.” But he remembered the crush of the vehicles, imagined what her body would have looked like if she hadn’t jumped. He shuddered.

  “You’re cold and hurt.”

  He grimaced as he remembered crumpling to the deck of the ferry once they had re-boarded. “Just hit my hard head when I went through the gangway door. I’ll be fine. Really. What about you?”

  Her bluish lips tilted up in a brave smile. “I’m fine. The ship’s purser brought me a first aid kit. There are some pain killers.”

  He shuddered, his teeth clattering together. So cold. “No shots.” He hated needles.

  She pressed something against his lips. “No, they’re pills. Open up.”

  He shook his head then fought for consciousness as black waves rolled over him. A groan shook his body and shattered his skull.

  “Take the pills.”

  He opened his mouth, and the tender skin of her fingertips brushed against his lips as bitter pills met his tongue. He forced his throat to swallow. A glass replaced her fingers. He managed a quick sip of tepid water without choking too much.

  “Sarah…” He reached out, a wool blanket falling from his shoulder as his fingers caught a tress of damp red hair. “That water was so cold. You were in there longer than I was. I could hardly find you. Are you sure you’re all right? You must be freezing.”

  “So must you.” She tugged the wool blanket tighter around her shoulders as she huddled on her knees beside the cot where he lay.

  “I’ve been warmer. You know that Jeremy’s safe.” He had no doubt that she would have assured herself of that the moment she’d gained consciousness. The silk of her hair slid through his fingers as he absently toyed with the red tresses.

  She nodded. “He’s with Sheriff Buck.”

  She didn’t say “safe.” She knew whoever had threatened her son in Winter Falls had followed them onto the ferry.

  His stomach pitched, from the painkillers or the concussion, he didn’t know. “I saw a small boat pull away from the ferry after we jumped. I have no proof, but I think it was them.”

  “It was,” she confirmed. “At least one of them… The voice was the same as the phone call yesterday—”

  “You saw one of them?” he asked, overwhelmed by her ordeal.

  She shook her head and pressed a finger to her temple. “No. He snuck up behind me and pressed a gun—” Her voice broke with fear, but she tilted her chin, summoning her unfathomable courage. “He—I think it was a he—told me to get rid of you and get the money ready.”

  “Are you going to get rid of me, Sarah?”

  She shook her head again, her eyes luminous with unshed tears. “They hurt the attendant,” she said.

  Royce jerked. “Is he all right?”

  Her fingers slid across his cheek, soothing. “I checked. He’s fine. A doctor is with him.”

  “Good.” His hand dropped from her hair and grasped her wool-covered shoulder. She was alive. Gratitude filled him.

  “The doctor just left. He thinks you should have X-rays, too. I’m sure you have a concussion, Royce.”

  “That’s the least of my worries. You already gave me painkillers.” Not that they’d kicked in yet. A groan burned his throat. “You’ve taken care of me, Sarah.”

  Her fingers caressed his cheek again. “I am a nurse. I don’t take care of anybody every day anymore…anyone but Jeremy.” His hand on her shoulder propelled her closer. “Thank you…for taking care of me.”

  The wet ends of her hair brushed over his wrist, droplets of cold water chasing across his skin.

  She grimaced, her teeth biting into her lower lip. “It was my fault you got hurt, Royce. Thank you for jumping in after me, for rescuing me. The water was so cold. I couldn’t swim…”

  Another groan rumbled in his throat as he relived the horror of not being able to find her. “I thought you were dead.”

  She shivered. “So did I. I told him they wouldn’t get Jeremy, and he—he—threatened to blow my head off then.”

  Anger surged through Royce. He wanted to hurt these people as they’d hurt Sarah. Then the ache in his head turned into a hammer swinging at his conscience. None of it made sense. Why had his presence put her and Jeremy at risk? Because he had no doubt it had or they wouldn’t be so desperate for her to get rid of him, desperate enough to physically threaten the woman they wanted to extort money from. “But he didn’t shoot you, Sarah.”

  “No, but I nearly drowned. If not for you…”

  He could see her again, vehicles rolling toward her, leaving her no choice but to jump overboard. He winced as the horrifying image played through his mind. “I’m sure they didn’t plan on you jumping overboard.”

  “I had no choice…”

  “I know. They had pushed the vehicles out of Park, maybe before you even got there. Maybe it was like slashing my tire—a ploy to slow us down if they managed to grab Jeremy when we were disembarking. But you got in the way.” Which brought him to the reason he’d sought her out in the first place.

  A flush stole over her pale skin. “I’m sorry, Royce.”

  “Why’d you bribe someone to let you down to the car deck, Sarah?”

  She sighed. “Because sometimes I have more money than brains?” She pressed a fist against her forehead. “Because I can’t trust anyone…not with Jeremy.”

  He opened his mouth to tell her he understood. He knew more about her past than she was aware.

  She pressed a finger over his lips. “I’m sorry, Royce. I should have trusted you.”

  Another whack of the hammer inside him. What reason had he given her to trust him? None. If he’d never come to Winter Falls, she and Jeremy would be safe. He winced, then shivered.

  “I’m sorry.” Her soft voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I meant to get you out of those wet clothes.”

  He shifted on the cot, and dizziness swam through his head.

  “I had the purser get your duffel bag. Your truck had been broken into, but that hadn’t been taken.” She bit her lip again then released it.

  Royce swung his legs off the cot and forced himself to sit up. The small room spun once then righted itself. “Sarah, what was taken?”

  “Jeremy’s bag. His backpack.” Her breath hitched. “He’s going to be mad. He had his favorite pajamas in there. And probably his lucky socks.”

  “Jeremy’s going to be fine.”

  She shuddered, the blanket falling open with the violence of her movement. “He has to be. But I’m not sure about his mother.”

  “You’re going to be fine, Sarah.”

  His gaze skimmed over her pale face, down her porcelain neck to where the wet silk blouse clung to her breasts, the pattern of her lace bra visible through the nearly transparent fabric. And through the lacy bra, her nipples pressed, taut and dark.

  Another part of his body started to throb. “Sarah…”

  Her tongue flicked across her bitten lip. “I—I—they brought my bag here, too.”

  He leaned forward, so his face nearly touched hers. Then he pushed the blanket from her shaking shoulders. His blood heated in his veins, causing a tingling sensation in his fingertips and the pit of his stomach.

  “Sarah…” His hands skimmed from her shoulders, down her arms to her waist. She trembled.

  “Royce…”

  “Let me help you out of these wet things.” Her blouse had pulled free of her slacks. He doubted Sarah had ever appeared untucked or rumpled until now. Until him. Until he’d come into her life and turned it upside down.

  His fingers, still numb from the cold, fumbled on
her buttons, but he pushed them through the holes and peeled the cold silk from her body. Her breath shuddered out and caressed the side of his face.

  “Royce…”

  He couldn’t tell if she spoke his name in protest or encouragement.

  His hand hovered near the front clasp of her bra, his knuckles brushing against the cold, quivering skin of her full breasts where they rose above the wet lace.

  Her hands grasped his waist, digging into his shirt and dragging it up his body. He lifted his arms and pulled the shirt over his head, wincing as the collar brushed against the swollen knot on his forehead.

  “Careful.” She reached up, pressing her breasts against his bare chest and her fingertips against the bandage above his temple. “The doctor had to put in a couple of stitches. It wouldn’t stop bleeding. So you have to be careful.”

  Careful. He had to be careful about more than his head. He had to be careful about his stupid heart. How could it beat so fast and hard for this woman?

  He knew what she’d gone through as a young girl, but he didn’t know what kind of woman she’d become. Or did he? His fingers stroked the silky skin of her cheek. “Sarah…”

  She lifted her smoky gaze. “What? Are you dizzy?”

  Instead of pressing a finger against her mouth, he pressed his lips. A brush of cold flesh against cold flesh. A brief salutation was all he intended. But the tips of her breasts nudged his chest, pushed against his heart and incited his passion.

  He entwined his fingers in her wet, red tresses and urged her lips apart. His tongue slipped in, stroking the cold length of hers until it heated with passion and joined the duel.

  A moan vibrated her breasts against him. He slipped his fingers between them and snapped open the clasp of her bra. Her taut nipples scraped over his chest as he pulled the straps down her trembling arms. His lips parted from hers to release a groan.

  “Royce, are you all right?”

  He leaned back enough to glance down but not separate skin from skin. Hers was creamy and as silky as the only fabric he’d seen her wear. “Sarah…you’re so beautiful.”